I’m here again, Lord,
Wasted at your feet,
Spent in grief and sorrow,
Still clinging…
Somehow.
I feel like the woman
With the issue of blood…
Years deep in this insanity
Some would call my life.
I need you desperately!
This healing thing takes forever.
Though I reach for you,
Though I touch your robe,
It seems my faith is not enough.
I have cried;
You have answered.
I have fallen;
You have caught me.
Still, in many ways, Lord,
I feel as broken as ever.
What healing?
What faith?
What rest is there to find?
I wander the world
Seeking answers.
All I know is you…
You ought to be enough for me!
Please, Holy Spirit,
Refill me with your Living Water
As I am parched
In a desert place,
In a dark place—
The only Light within,
And yet…
I somehow trust you anyway.
I will cling and not let go
Until there is healing
For me,
For my children,
For those whose lives I touch.
Oh God, please hear my cry.
Pour through me
Your love and restorative power.
Tag Archive: God
The fresh fire of Your presence
Ever tries me, and purifies me.
The warm wind of Your Spirit
Comforts sorrow, restores tomorrow.
The sweet scent of Your mercy
Never ceases, ever increases.
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Lord, You are my source.
You lift me up.
You let me sing.
Lord, You are my life.
You are my Christ.
You are my King.
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With full faith I will trust You
Hope anew, more pleasing to You, Lord,
As deep down You keep working
Still to correct me and to perfect me.
The pure peace in Your will, God
All encloses, never imposes.
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The sole source of salvation—
Your blood flowing, triumphant knowing…
Your great grace poured out to me
Still renews me, flows on through me.
The whole world will adore You—
Only You, God, the only true God.
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Your holy love cannot be measured.
Enfolding us, You whisper Your truth—
That we are Your treasure.
I lay before God—awed, amazed, abashed at who He is.
This vast, uncreated being fills the expanse of the universes
Yet reaches down in compassion to come dwell within me—
Drawing me, teaching me, leading me in paths of righteousness,
Because He says, “…I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked.
I only want them to turn from their wicked ways so they can live.�
And I cannot trust in my own righteousness, only in His leading.
I do not want to love with my mouth while seeking my own gain in my heart.
So, I lay before Him…receiving His infinite grace through His Son,
Following Him where I have never been, but long to be.
It is a mystery I cannot fathom that He loves me.
His ways are so much higher than I could ever understand
But I am grateful that He wants me to live
Truly, fully abandoned in His life…
All…ALL…because He loves me.
EZEKIEL 33:11, 31
If I could write, I’d tell of all I know,
Which isn’t much, for all I have to show.
This sense of self inside of me,
This thing that drives me to be free,
Is just a formless mass of feelings, though…
I try to write the deeper things inside.
Though most of me prefers to run and hide.
My efforts bring a war within
(It seems like all my life has been),
Yet I am fixed on letting go of pride.
If I could write, the passion in my prayer
Would be to touch the world with all its care—
To show them God’s great love for all,
So they could help break down their walls
Releasing all the anger and despair.
I try to write so people know I’m real
With caution in expressing how I feel—
So they identify with me
(With common eyes we clearly see),
And we can lay things at His feet and kneel.
If I could write, I’d risk all that I am,
To share my love, and consequence be damned
But still I struggle hard and long
To speak or sing a heartfelt song.
Sometimes I’m sure I’ll never write again.
I try to write despite this wretched doubt,
For I must write. I cannot live without
A way to speak my mind and heart—
To show I’m weak and then impart
How self laid down receives God’s grace throughout.
If I could write…
I stand, anger in hand, covered in
The tattered remains of my self-worth.
The futility of banging my fist against
The stone wall of another’s hostility and unforgiveness
Leaves me breathless and beaten and worn,
Wondering when, or if, things will change.
No matter how big the anger or
How hard the beating,
Things remain the same, or nearly so,
That they have always been.
The rebounding of my fistful of wrath
Only bruises my soul and batters my spirit.
Somewhere in the dark realms,
A part of me is screaming for release
From the bonds of my own unforgiveness.
God knows I have tried to let things go,
To feel, to work through, to release anger…
But the more I let go of, the more I find,
Until I am foundering and gasping for air.
People tell me, and I have heard it
Many times before, that I must find healing,
That I must feel, and work through, and let go of
All the anger inside of me.
I have wept repentance repeatedly.
I have cried forgiveness over and over again.
I have prayed for healing and deliverance and release.
I have given all I know how to give of myself
Toward this fantastical end-goal of wholeness.
A lifetime of habitual grieving for the loss of
More than I can bear to think of, takes its toll.
I am blind and cannot see, deaf and cannot hear,
Lame and cannot walk even one more step
Down this road of hardship and struggle,
But the frustrating part is that
I have given up before.
So, how many times must I die like this
Before some freedom comes?
I cry to You, O Lord,
Yet still the wicked triumph over me.
I fight with shadows on the water.
How long, my God, must I wait for help?
Hope escapes me, despair overwhelms me, and
I am a stupid, helpless child again,
Waiting for some sign of salvation to come.
Sometimes all I can see is futility.
I cannot even see You these days.
I affect a façade of calmness and peace
In some vain effort to make it so—
Despite my feelings of panic and fear.
Tomorrow… I wonder, will it happen?
All that I dread hangs waiting in the wings,
Weighting the balance of my emotions
Toward the expectation of loss.
What more can I say?
This, I feel. This, I despise about myself:
These feelings of anger, despair, and hopelessness
Make me feel foolish in the face of truth.
Truth is that You are…
That You are good and just and merciful.
Your patience is endless and
My impatience is fruitless.
So, while all that I feel stacks up into a mountain,
Your TRUTH is the snow that covers it,
Smoothing all the jagged edges that hurt me
Into a great, white blanket of hope.
Even though I feel so much,
I stand silenced by magnificence and
I say with Job,
“I have uttered what I did not understand,
Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know…
I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear,
But now my eye sees You.
Therefore I abhor myself,
And repent in dust and ashes.�
Healing will come and the anger will go,
Though I do not know how or when.
Still, I choose to trust You again and
Release my struggles with watery shadows
Into Your graceful hands.
Once more, O LORD, I say,
“You… are… my… God!�
