General CBF

Stigmata Me: A Poem

By Mike Hutchinson

I hold out my missionary hand
to help the poor
and expect that someone will place another hand,
no more.
But into my upturned hand
someone places a heart
and with a pump and a start
I feel it’s story, a painful part
and it begins to burn a hole in
my hand.
I let if fall to the sand.
Christ call me
Christ move me
Christ mold me
Christ ask a lot of me
just don’t ever
stigmata me.

I unbend my elbow
open my hand with this heart stain
and now not a hand but a
troubled fou brain.
Driven mad by death’s angry grief,
without relief,  it puts a pricking pain into my palm
I shake it loose to regain my calm.
Christ call me
Christ move me
Christ mold me
ask a lot of me
just don’t ever stigmata me.

Disappointed but not misappointed
I stretch out my hand
of care once more…
but there is no more..
I wait.
There are people all around
who just need to give me their hand
I will lift them off the ground.

But it feels empty
and Christ says, “Missionary,
I have called you
I have moved you
I have molded you
What I put into your hand will
crucify you.
Shattered, broken
Your heart, Your brain,
they crucified me
Hold it tight,
with clinched knuckled might,
it will puncture and pierce,
attach you fierce
to my cross,
Missionary, don’t let it go.
you gotta
stigmata.”

Mike Hutchinson is a CBF field personnel serving alongside his wife, Lynn, in Togo, West Africa. Learn more about and support the Hutchinsons’ ministry here

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