Wednesday, February 1, 2017


God draws straight lines with crooked sticks:
it doesn't get much more twisted than this,
halt leg limping, sin dragging my ankles,
trying to keep my eyes on my Righteousness--

Old sin casts long shadows. It's dark in this heart.
There are times I feel blind, stumbling in darkness
tripping over old loves I thought I'd left behind,
stealing kisses. Oh, you children of light!

Walking through the valley of the shadow of hesitation--
can't feel Your Spirit with me when I hear that temptation:
A little sleep, a little slumber, fold my hands up to rest: 
You can stop and rest a while here, in Unworthiness.
It's a quiet town, everyone keeps to himself.

There's a house to lie down in. Pull my knees up. Say
I'm an unworthy servant. I'd better stay
by the roadside, silent, and not harm the witness.
A little time to lie down, let my weak knees rest.

Boards over the windows. Count the specks in my eyes.
Lie down in the darkness to listen to lies.
Lullaby, sleep now, close your eyes
on goodness and glory-- they burn like poison--

There's a crack around the frame though,
a crack around the door
it lights up my eyelids in crimson and gold.
If I wait till You straighten me out all the way
I will stick here mud musing till the last day.

Halfhearted, make me faithful--stick my feet to this way--
So the old man's got my ankles. I was made for daylight.
Don't let me turn backward, or twist to the side.
You can use a bent stick, Lord, to make a straight line.

You broke up stone with a stick and frustration
and gave sweet water to a desperate nation.
You hung, Atonement, on a tree and some nails
Your promise: sin and death shall not prevail.
You are making me holy. I must walk down this track

and love your Church, imperfect:
I cannot hold back.

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