Liturgy

I am no longer my own, but Yours. 

Use me as You choose, 

rank me alongside whoever You choose;

put me to doing, put me to suffering;

let me be employed for You, or laid aside for You, 

raised up for You, or brought low for You;

let me be full, let me be empty;

let me have all things, let me have nothing; 

with my whole heart I freely choose to yield 

all things to Your ordering and approval. 

So now, God of glory, 

Father, Son and Holy Spirit, 

You are mine, and I am Your own. 

So be it. 

And the covenant which I have made on earth, 

let it be ratified in heaven. 

Amen. 

-- From the Valley of Vision Puritan Prayers

Gideon

Here is my fleece,
on the ground,
in Your hands,
fully offered up.
Because I can't keep it.

Be faithful to me
Oh God.
Be faithful to me,
Oh God.
I need You.

Not tomorrow
not the next day,
now.

Here is my fleece.

Isaac

I remember an offering, 

not to many months ago, 

where I was offered up 

to atone for your mistakes. 

Twice I was put on that metaphorical altar, 

against my own will, 

(but yet so very willingly) 

and each time there was one result. 

And I prayed to a God

who allowed me no peace, 

but only allowed the remaining truth, 

that you were not to blame. 

The second time you saw me, 

broken for a crime you committed, 

your hands were no longer clean, 

and your heart was no longer locked up. 

So we prayed for redemption

and a healing of our scars, 

and your words became beautiful, 

and your heart became honest, 

while my words became strong, 

and my heart became forgiving. 

And something emerged 

from a box we had placed our God into. 

But now the altar is prepared again, 

a third and final time, 

but this time I am not bound alone, 

we are bound together. 

We offer up

our dreams and desires, 

our hearts and our lives, 

to a God who deserves all of it. 

And we trust in our Provider, 

since he knows our very souls, 

to remain faithful 

whether a lamb appears in the the thicket or not. 

Osterich

To those who subscribe
to fluffy, flowery, rose coloured faith:
You're fooling yourself.
Utterly, totally, fooling yourself.

If you think sanctification is fun
then there's no work being done,
and if you think surrender is easy,
then you're just holding back.

Because really,
the refining is painful
and challenging, and long.
And the offering up
of a life you think is yours,
is to die to yourself,
every morning, afternoon, and night.

To those who subscribe
to a surface level, mushy gushy faith:
wake up.
Get your head out of the proverbial sand,
and wake up.

Someone Else's Prayer (3)

Jesus,

I am sure of nothing

but this: 

The fact that I am desperate

for more of your truth, 

more of your Word, 

more of all that you are. 

I need nothing but to surrender 

to your will and your ways,

But my feet hesitate, 

and my hands slip, 

over and over. 

It seems the only thing 

I never fail at, 

is failing. 

But Jesus, 

I see your faithfulness, 

as a promise, as a truth, 

and I will believe. 

Though I hesitate, fall, and fail, 

I will believe. 

An Open Fist

My fist is clenched,
knuckles white, palms red,
and it's clear that I'm holding on.
Because if I don't,
I'll lose you to the wind,
lose you to the rain.

I'm tired,
of the give and the take,
the give and the take take take,
so I will keep you hidden,
from the One who always sees,
from a God who always sees.

And we sit and cry
as if the end has already come,
as if the wind and the rain have won,
but we've yet to step outside.
We compare, contrast, categorize,
making sense where there is none.

Our incapable hands,
will be chaffed and bruised
if we continue this foolishness.
And as much as my heart
wants to keep you tucked away,
I know if I do, I'll lose you indefinitely.

So stand with me,
and raise your hands.

Yes

"Do you love Me?"
I asked as you wiped your eyes.
You didn't understand my question
and you didn't see the point in an answer,
but you said, "Yes, I love you".
But when I pulled you through,
and picked you up,
you said your thanks and walked away.

Then I asked, "Do you love Me?"
after your cup had been filled,
and your joy had been renewed.
Your reply came in a rush,
"Yes, I love you".
But in your words I felt nothing,
and I realized that you weren't really talking to Me.
You were talking to yourself.

Finally I asked, "Do you love Me?"
as you handed me your heart,
surrendered your will,
and with an honest voice I heard,
"Yes Jesus, I love you".
As I cover you in my love,
I know that you now understand,
that nothing has ever separated us.

And nothing ever will.

Sweet Dreams and See You Soon

My closing eyes are a warm hello,
Because I see you as soon as they're shut,
And I can't stop you from coming,
Not that I would try in the first place.
I miss your voice, and your stupid laugh,
Sending my heart into palpitations,
It's what you do best,
And what's more, is that you're oblivious.
I may only see you when my eyes are closed,
But as long as you're happy, it'll be enough.
I couldn't ask you for anymore.

Seas to Drown In

From Your hands the water flows,
like mercy into the darkest depravity,
kindly supressing the burning of sin,
gently healing the years of suffering.
To the ground the cares will fall,
like leaves from the fall trees,
like dust in a dry summer,
displaying a peace that surpasses words.
In the dark the light will shine,
through the souls of the faithful,
trading the sorrow for redemption.
Because really, what else could be sweeter?
Not the taste of honey on a bitter tounge,
but the taste of eternity,
salvation and grace,
to taste the flavours of life unending,
like nothing in this life.
From Your hands comes your love like seas,
ready, ever ready,
for me to drown in.