Never Enough,

Dear God,

You say you hold everyone’s  tears in Your hand.  Do You really?  Isn’t Your hand getting kind of full by now?  I mean, I know it’s probably a big hand, but still, there’s a lot of people in the world.

Aren’t You getting tired of watching out for me?  Whenever I trip, I expect to crush my face on the pavement.  Pavement kind of sucks sometimes.  But You always catch me right before I hit it.  One time, I could have sworn I hit it.  But it turned out it was just a pillow.  That must have been You.  I don’t usually find pillows on the roads around here.

{post-sermon musings on a Friday evening. The sermon was on Leviticus chapters 1-7 and 17.}

Part 1: The Wilderness, Moses’ time.

            Small fingers wrapped around my hand, and I felt a gentle tug on my sleeve.       “Papa,” my six-year-old son said. His big brown eyes looked up at me, filled with love and curiosity as they always were. Dark curls tumbled around his forehead. I smiled. My son looked so much like his beautiful mother.

            “Papa,” he said again.

            “Yes, my son?”

      O God, who set the stars in sky above,

     who fashioned earth by a stalwart, strong hand

     how might You Lord bestow a gaze of love?

    Or how could I begin to rise from where I stand?

   A chasm lies too steep for graceless child to reach

   Your heights. I thought my dirty rags would do

   to gain reprieve from fate that's dealt to each

  still chained, apart, and gone, from Mighty You.

  I cannot mount the path. I bend my knee

  and ask, if then, this way, I cannot take,

{Lately martyrdom has been on my mind. Stay tuned on my blog to find out why. But then I caught a stomach bug and was quite miserable. The next day I listened to a sermon by Eric Ludy called "Extraordinary Courage" ... which really stepped on my toes. My thoughts, Mr. Ludy's, and some of Richard Baxter's are included in this prayer}

‘Tis so easy to romanticize
The notion of martyrdom.
The longing inside with the prayer
"Thy kingdom come.”

‘Tis so noble to want to die
For His glorious name,
Yet when the pain comes

 I know some parts don't sound quite right, so any suggestions are welcome!

There was a good shepherd Who cared for his sheep They followed his will And his word did keep.

Those eyes I see, in the dead of night.
Those eyes I fear will be my demise.
Their red burning in the dead of night
Their white lining glowing like moonlight so fine.
I try to decline
Those eyes so malciouse
His teeth sharp and rigid
Those eyes like fire from hell
Now it is easy to see why so many fell
Into his prison of char and brimstone
A thousands souls never burning alone
Those eyes so cold
Those eyes so bold
They keep me down like a burden on my back
My hope to attack
But I can't do that

{written after studying Psalm 81}

We shall all fall.

We are all to die, because of our treason.
I look about me. They are all placid; they do not understand.
I shake one, then another.

“Do you not understand?” I cry. “I am doomed! You are doomed! We shall all die! We must get out, get free, get forgiveness!”