I am tired
of waiting.
No longer
am I content
to be still and know
When You also say,
Go
and make nations.
In this world
rages the fiercest battle-
but somehow
I almost forgot-
this Faith
is supposed to be dangerous.
In this world, I am comfortable.
But this world is not my Home.
In this world,
I am coral in a dying ocean.
(drown me in You)
I am a battered wall in a ransacked village.
(restore me)
(make me stronger than before)
I am charred remains and
I am a sojourner and
I am a leper
a pharisee
a tax collector
A legal witness to the Power
of the Lord
in my Life.
Lord,
I am tired of waiting.
In this life,
I am prideful.
Tatter my robes
take my morning coffee
make my eyes puffy
from tears or lack of sleep (only You offer rest)
until my voice is scratchy
and my mind flimsy.
In this life,
this shanty
parading as a mansion,
do not
just make me a candle.
Knock me down
Burn me through and through
and then
Grow flowers from my ashen palms.
Teach my parched lips
to cry for more.
For I have nothing to offer
of my own merit but
You can fix that.
Teach me to reflect
but not to neglect-
Teach me to hear,
teach me then to heed.
Teach me-
My parched lips
Cry out for more.
