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The human soul is a crumbling house, but Christ is a carpenter.

Home: Poetry
Erin Powe

Excuse me,
Just a moment, Lord.
You who are always
Knocking on my door -
Not now, please.

My work is in progress -
Please read the sign.
Step into this line.

Just let me alone,
I don't have time for You today.
You see, I'm busy building
Idols of distraction
Looking for a look.
For a book,
For a fix.
I've got this
Project (my soul)
Under control.
Don't need the Carpenter today.

Yeah, right.

I think I'm in control
But I'm in chains,
Shackled stiff and starving
To evil and false hopes.
Laying foundations on
The sand that is me,
Avoiding Christ entirely.

That One Foundation just doesn't
"Speak to me'" right now.
See, solid ground
Keeps me from
Moving around where I like.

But, no, help!
I'm locked in,
Bolted in by my sin.
Now I can see, that me
Could never set me free.
I'm my own worst enemy.

Save me, Shepherd!
Call me back to the flock
Un-maroon this sailor
With your ship of grace!
Come up to my prison,
Let me see Your face.

And You do,
Over and over,
Plowing through wind and wave,
Distraction and distrust.
When Your name I've cussed,
You run out to greet me.

My best Hope is well
Kept in You.
What covenant has bound together
No sin or sign will undo.

Break every crusty lock,
Shattering the swords
Of the guards to my heart,
Wielded against Your goodness,
Smashing every idol
Like You did in the temple.
For I am Your temple.
You dwell inside me,

Making a song from a sepulcher.

Confound every failure
And burst through each door
Until the whole castle
I've built to glorify myself
Lies open, broken,
And rule and reign for eternity
Over the rooms
Of this hiding sinner's heart.

Let pride now from this door depart.
For I am yours,
Yours alone.
You own this home.

Lead this wanderer Home.
You are my Home.

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