What Font Should We Use
Desperately searching through the sinking sands, but grace is found in Him, and not the works of man. There's a hole in your face, and it's running in place. Your message is stupid; that you're not going anywhere but into a wooden case. And maybe you are, but to be set on fire is to realize that you're already in the case. You are in the case! You're so dead! You can't claw your way out, always wanting what you've earned, but can't see you're already born with more than you will ever deserve. Oh how I loved the very vices that constrained me to a seat heading straight to hell. Why do bad things happen to good people? You are no good! Your ignorance is showing! That only happened once, and it was in him lowering, himself to be with us you dunce! Now He's covering your sin and mine, but keep focusing on your morals and you'll be cut from the Vine. Oh how I loved the very vices that constrained me to a seat heading straight to hell. If you will not die with Christ, you are judged in this case. The carcass with your face, is cringing at its remains in a burning mirror, bursting at the site of the foreknowledge of exploding boils excreting like waterfalls from its shards piercing moist, rotting flesh, and used like ointment on the very wounds creating it. The wounds creating it are from a mirror, there from myself. I see clear that I deserve the mirror. You saw no different, and still You drew near. My indifference like dirt, but now on my knees, You buried me. Stuck with myself, You buried me with You, that I may rise just as you rose. Grace unmerited saved my soul. My heart regenerated. Body resurrected I'm whole. I'm a new creation. Glory to the Father (Just as You rose) Glory to You God! (This is my goal.) He changes the message you murderer! You're just a good font with a stupid message. He changes the message you murderer! Jesus, change my message everyday, from a mirror, to a window to Your glorious face! It doesn't matter what font you use if the message you're spelling is garbage.
If You Walked a Day In My Shoes Would It Be a Different Day or Would It Be Just Like Every Other Day But In Someone Elses Shoes
So prone to wander, but it's You Jesus who will bring me back every time. You will get me and send me, but my legs will bend to the point at the end of a sword and I would never return. There is no returning, but joyful submission to a Word I could never accept until the day I died. I wasn't brought back to life, but to life in the first place. Not a silver dollar, shameless, I runaway as a sheep, but you bring me back. The possibilities... all the possibilities to be a tragedy, has become nothing more to me than a cliché. Which is completely fine. It's totally okay. What could be more obvious than the cliche that we're completely not totally okay. But I thought it would be fine. You showed me that I was blind. Another cliche distorting my ability to see what's so obviously right in front of the biggest problem I have... me. The very word, "grace", tares at my intellect as I struggle to face the mouse trap of Christian dialect. In an effort to form an actual thought of what it actually means, and even that is a bear trap I've fought, only to get out of and feed my insecurities, and fall on the land mine of what it then entails... to believe, that God, You see me as perfect, but more than that, you know my imperfections, but already decided to put them on Christ. Jesus, I can't wait to see your face. To look over and see You singing over me. And I can not fathom, all the stars. I can not count them. And we all bow when You come around, as we look up to You, the Son and You say, "my child, well done!" So prone to wander, but it's You Jesus who will bring me back every time You will get me and send me, but my legs will bend to the point at the end of a sword, and I would never return. There is no returning, but joyful submission to a Word I could never accept until the day I died. I wasn't brought back to life, but to life in the first place.
Dead Men Don't Make Decisions
Only Christ, came in flesh, Is perfect, gave it all, paid all debt, gave the call, only to Elect. He came to save the world, but they would refuse Him still. But out of His great love, while we war against Him, He chose to save some (by sovereign grace). I would never choose Him, but He first chose me. This is love I can not fathom (I could never) because I am not the key. So why should I try if my path has been chosen? Because now you've been taught, "if you think this way, you're not." (We've already chosen. It's not that we can't choose. This path that we've created is broken without a bruise) You can not change them or yourself. I know you would agree, a prayer-does not cause change, nor the sincerity of the heart. No matter how sincere, the heart is wicked. You want what you want until regenerated. He knew you before you were born. All who are thirsty, you will not soon thirst, for whoever wanted scorn? If you love Him, He loved you first. (Nothing is greater than His love for His bride. You are well protected my dear. Nothing can separate you.) No life raft to grab hold to. No life to enable you. He dove in after you The ocean was your sin until He jumped in. Your sinking heart of stone was regenerated.
Suppressing truth which is known. Exchanging the whole truth for a shameful clone. Ignorant comments like, "they're in the streets... They're in the bars..." What stupid lines, the worst they've done is steal from the cookie jar. Still they call for love, and they gossip, and they want sex, (but in reality they just tell tales) but they don't want the opposite. Unrestrained by propriety, they are proud, and in their boastful maliciousness they are crowned. Walking down the street, fell into an open grave. People pass by. They tell me to behave. Dropping snakes, protruding venom, and still I'm not the slithering victim. Desultory. Quick as razor blades. Perfunctory. Drowning in blood like the son of a killer. Veracity, their vengeance evades. All become a pile of mud. Were you not in this too? "Whatever you thought would make you happy", is where I got caught. In that same story. No reason I can find, we're all of the same kind, I literally do not understand why God chose to save me from the lie. What exceptional love is this: that I can die, and don't have to live? You've heard of a zombie? Well, I'm a nobody. But to God, for no reason except love, I belong to a kingdom. And still they call for love, and they gossip, and they want sex, but they don't want the opposite. Unrestrained by propriety. Such greater pleasure beyond This instant gratification, but still missing the point. When I think of how You love me (I deserve to be destroyed by You. You did the opposite. You love me. I can't fathom where I should be) it makes it hard to breath. It's hard to believe because I've spit in Your face so many times. I've spent your grace. So many times I've turned my back on You, and I've had my share of doubt. And when I think of how You love me I bleed venom down my back. You saw it when I turned away, but You knew all along. When I think of Your love. When I think of how you love me, it makes it hard to breath. It makes me want to sing. But no one is righteous. No not one. Except You Jesus, You are God, You are righteous, You alone. Holy holy is the Lord almighty, holy holy.
Mr. Eternal: I'm Kind Of a Big Deal
[I fell to my knees when He called my name.]
To think that I thought that I had it all down, my heart in clear opposition,
an idol factory yet wanting a crown.
(He wore my crown, I did not want Him. There is nothing good in me, nothing, and what you started you'll complete. You drew me and all I know is grace.)
Under no reason or condition
you chose me unto life. Even though I deserved perdition.
(Destruction, destruction. I did not want Him. There is nothing good in me, nothing, and what you started you'll complete. You drew me and all I know is grace. This is true love, how could You love.)
Laying himself down for his wife,
the church his only aim and on the cross he hung, assuring afterlife. As he came back from the grave.
I purchased by blood, I am His rightful claim. My heart regenerated, the Spirit’s consummation. (life breathed into my lungs) I fell to my knees when he called name.
Praise be to God, the author of my salvation. Deliverance is of the Lord,
sustained by Your grace, heaven my predestination.
([I fell to my knees when He [breathed] called my name.] Of my own free will, destruction my choice until, He breathed.)
You Do As You Please
I am Joseph's brother. I beat You with the anger that pumps my blood. How much more evil that I thought what I was doing was good. In return You fed me grace as You always would. You do as Youplease. Who am I to disagree? Locked in my mind toiling away. How hard I can work. How easy I forget, You establish my steps. I thought I'd chosen You, but if it were up to me, Your ways would be my eternal sorrow. You, in all power, foresaw my wandering impotence. How I would cower. But beyond all measure, You've become my strong tower. Since I was chosen from nothing that I've done, You've set good before me, despite not only what I will do, even hoping not to, but my disbelief that all will work for good, because oh, the hard times. No one can stand against You. No one can stop what You put in motion. No one can finish what You started. No one can walk on a storm in Your ocean. You will not be ignored. Every knee will bow. Ten Thousand years will have passed, and we'll have just heard that sound. To the mightiest of all mankind: you are the magnifying glass to an ant, using His power to reign, but can't, on your own... While He is, in a single flicker of a wing, a humming bird creating a tsunami reaching across the universe instantly, eighty times per second. The cross has taught my heart to fear. By grace that fear has come. Before concerned of a life well lived. Now by grace, He'll take me home. Take me home.