My Church Family (Province of Grace Ministries International)

I strolled around the camp.

Glimpses of wounded men,

Bleeding youths.

Girls confused yet chattering

That they knew what’s new.

I saw women weeping

From the whips of life.

I wondered,

Why…

Again, I rose to stroll around the camp.

Some months I counted had gone by.

I stopped at the gate.

Soldiers at attention,

Standing with gaze fixed to the heavens,

Like they looked to the hills.

Yet—

They searched us.

Nothing penetrated without permission.

I wondered,

How…

My stroll was disrupted,

For each one was busy at a post.

I saw soldiers clad with armor,

Yet they worked—hands on the plow,

None looking back.

I feared I was off,

So I aligned my steps.

Soldier like,

I matched too.

I wondered,

Where…

Where was I?

What had changed?

Whose camp was this?

Then I heard it:

This was David’s camp,

Where broken men are called,

And these men are turned soldiers,

Leading their captivity captive.

This was PGMI —

The Place God Makes Men Intentionally.

Grace and discipline,

Accountable discipleship,

These anchors hold them.

Yes.

Here is David’s camp,

And there is none feeble amongst them.