Contentment, Gentle death, Hope, Jesus, Joy, Love, Music, Poetry, Sacred Space, Surrender

All I Know

Broken, this shell that’s quickly passing–back to where it came;
Empty, this heart, it seems it’s fasting-from love instead of pain.

All I know is that I know what You’ve done for me,
All I know is that I know I’m here on my knees,
And You stay with me, You stay with me.

Hiding, the things I think will shame me–being someone I can’t be;
Running, far from where I started-but it’s running after me.

All I know is that I know what You’ve done for me,
All I know is that I know I’m here on my knees,
And You wait for me, You wait for me.

You know me, this frail, unsteady flower–like a fallen leaf;
You show me, every moment, every hour–how You’re loving me.

All I know is that I know what You’ve done for me,
All I know is that I know I’m here on my knees,
And You’re shaping me, You’re shaping me.

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Gentle death, Jesus, Joy, Love, Music, Poetry, Theology

Free To Fall

Free To Fall

Free from self—my friendly foe,
A gentle death, the task ahead;
Boundless beauty it will sew,
Bleeding heart, its shell is shed.

Orphaned no more—feet have left the shore;
At Your bidding,
At Your call,
I’m at Your mercy—free to fall.

Tearful nights that balm the soul,
Not one of them escapes Your heart;
In weary hours Your comfort’s shown,
Whispering, You fuel the spark.

Orphaned no more—feet have left the shore;
At Your bidding,
At Your call,
I’m at Your mercy—free to fall.

Reckless heart by Spirit led,
To lose the world—for me no loss;
These lungs that sing will rest to breathe,
The sweet aroma of Your cross.

Orphaned no more—feet have left the shore;
At Your bidding,
At Your call,
I’m at Your mercy—free to fall.

In Your light I’m free to fail,
Free to stand before Your throne;
The strength of Love has torn the veil,
Calling me to be Your own.

Orphaned no more—feet have left the shore;
At Your bidding,
At Your call,
I’m at Your mercy—free to fall.

Jesus, Love, Music, Poetry

Love Me

Life without its trial,
I do not ask of Thee;
Nor to escape the pains of death,
Or to elude its grief.

Only, tell me that You love me,
Sing it over me,
The promises You told me that You’ll keep;
And when my heart is aching,
Sing it over me,
The promises You told me that You’ll keep,
For all eternity, for all eternity.

To be spared from sorrow,
Is not my burdened plea;
Nor to never feel a lonely heart,
Or be free from want or need.

Only, tell me that You love me,
Sing it over me,
The promises You told me that You’ll keep;
And when my heart is lonely,
Sing it over me,
The promises You told me that You’ll keep,
For all eternity, for all eternity.

You’re loving me, yes, You’re loving me,
Recklessly invading foolish pride.
You’re loving me, yes, You’re loving me,
Showing me there’s no reason I should hide.

And You tell me that You love me,
You sing it over me,
The promises You tell me that You’ll keep;
And when my heart is lonely,
You sing it over me,
The promise You tell me that You’ll keep,
For all eternity, for all eternity.

Jesus, Love, Music, Poetry

Our True Longing-Our Longing Fulfilled

Oh, this desolate place,
All our wells have run dry,
Though clouds fill the sky.

Oh, we’ve hidden our face,
To burry our shame,
And smother the pain.

Oh, we need a savior,
To come and to cleanse,
Our unrighteousness.

Oh, we need a savior,
To be for us light,
And save us from darkness.

Weary and troubled are we,
For the burdens we bear,
Have left us despaired.

Too blind and too bitter to see,
That the wars that we wage,
Have strengthened our cages.

Oh, we need a savior,
To come and to cleanse,
Our unrighteousness.

Oh, we need a savior,
To be for us light,
And save us from darkness.

But hope is found today,
They heard an angel say.
And with this baby’s birth,
God brings us peace on earth.

Jesus, Love, Music, Poetry

Beautiful Irony

Coming alive as I’m led to the grave,
Being set free while becoming a slave;
I could never leave,
For I am free indeed
,
Because of Love’s beautiful irony.

The poor become rich and the first become last,
Hating your foe becomes part of the past;
In Him blind eyes see,
Broken hearts believe,
The truth of Love’s beautiful irony.

The battle’s been won before it’s been fought,
With the life of one Man a thousand’s been bought;
Who can bear but He,
No mortal’s strength receive,
The weight of Love’s beautiful irony.

His body the bread and His blood is our wine,
Broken and poured out, His love so Devine;
None is king save He,
Our Lord forever be,
Slain for Love’s beautiful irony.