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. 

Such Praise

You hold me

like a mother holds a child

like a lover holds his wife, 

and I am fine. 

I am held, and I am fine. 

With your open arms 

I feel redemption. 

With your loving-kindness 

I feel chosen. 

You are mine, and I am yours. 

And when you watch me 

fall and cry and hope and rise, 

you know I love you still. 

This heart was crafted

to love you. 

Oh, such praise I sing. 

Someone Else's Prayer

. . . and Jesus,
how much will I forget
before I remember you?
How much longer will I run
before I chase you?
Because this apathy is losing its appeal,
and this complacency is wearing me thin,
and the things I hide in are exposing me.
I'm a fraud in this life
where I speak as if I know
but my heart doesn't know up from down.
I'm lying to you,
convincing you that everything is fine,
when you already know how far gone I am.
If you took me now,
you wouldn't recognize me, would you?
Jesus, this heart is sick of being sick
and you're the only healer.
This is a prayer for more than just redemption,
more than just revival,
more than just healing.
This is a prayer for everything you have.

Your Love To Fall

I scream at the sky,
to bring on the rain,
in sheets and floods,
to remind me of Your love.
Oh yes, Your rain reminds me of love.
How You fall all around,
how You cover the earth,
and how you restore creation.
Your love brings life,
to the muddiest of souls,
washing away the iniquity,
falling, falling like rain.
In all my life, in every way,
I will yearn for the clouds to cover,
And for Your love to fall.

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.