Dear Donna,
Thank you for your recent request for permission to post material by Max Lucado for your group. It pleases us to be able to grant permission to those when possible. We do, however, have a few requests of you.
First, that your usage be in a not for profit environment.
Any material by Max Lucado should be copied in its original format, unedited.
Always include an attribution line that would state the following information as pertains to the material you wish to use:
[FearLess] Max Lucado
Copyright [Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2009]
Used by permission
Blessings,
Tina Chisholm
UpWords Ministries
The Teaching Ministry of Max Lucado
"No one has ever imagined what God has prepared for those who love him."
1 Corinthians 2:9
So here it is...I forgot that I even sent in the request for permission!
FEAR OF NOT MATTERING
Perhaps you don't know,
then, maybe you do,
about Stiltsville, and the Village,
(so strange but so true)
where people like we,
some tiny, some tall,
with jobs and kids
and clocks on the wall
keep an eye on the time,
For each evening at six,
they meet in the square
for the purpose of sticks,
tall stilts upon which
Stiltsvillians can strut
and be lifted above
those down in the rut:
the less and the least,
the Tribe of Too Smalls,
the not cools and have-nots
who want to be tall
but can't, because
in the giving of sticks,
their name was not called.
The didn't get picked.
Yet still they come
when villagers gather;
they press to the front
to see if they Matter
to the clique of the cool,
the court of high clout,
that decides who is special
and declares with a shout,
You're classy! You're pretty!
You're clever or Funny!
And bequeath a prize,
not of medals or money,
not a freshly baked pie
or a house someone built,
but the oddest of gifts--
a gift of some stilts.
Moving up is their mission,
going higher their aim.
Elevate your position
is the name the their game.
The higher-ups of Stilsville
(you know if you've been there)
make the biggest to-do
of the sweetness of this air.
They relish the chance
on their high apparatus
to strut on their stilts,
the ultimate status.
For isn't life best
when viewed from the top?
Unless you stumble
and suddenly are not
so sure of your footing.
You tilt and then sway,
Look out bel-o-o-o-w!
and you fall straightaway
into the Too Smalls,
hoi polloi of the earth.
You land on your pride-
oh boy how it hurts
when the chic police
in the jilt of all jilts,
don't offer to help
but instead take you stilts.
Who made you king?
you start to complain
but then notice the hour
and forget your refrain
It's almost six!
No time for chatter.
It's back to the crowd
to see if you matter.
