God, I'm stunned. You've done it. You've amazed me. You have the entire Universe to behold, and yet you turn your heart towards me. You offer yourself to me. Your love. You are sufficient for Yourself. You could be eternally satisfied in Yourself. Yet here am I, wretched and low, in Your delight. What makes you desire me? It is not I, but Your spirit inside that causes your eye to flicker my way. But what makes You want to dwell inside of me? You've created the mountains, the valleys, the vast forests and the oceans so deep. You could reside in the furthest of galaxies, swimming in the stars. Yet you make your home inside my heart. I am so small. Small, in fact, would be too big a word to describe me. I'm insignificant. I'm invisible. But you make me seen. You bring me up, set me on top in You. Why do you do this, Lord? Why would you come down to this earth? I'm blasted. I'm dumbfounded. I cannot comprehend. What makes a God who owns the Universe in His hands want to bring Himself to such a position of the most sinful of men? What makes a perfect God take upon Himself the most evil of deeds? What makes a God become the very thing He despises? You were God, and then you became a murderer. You became filth. You became rags while you allowed me to take upon the title of righteousness and purity. You made Yourself low and lifted me up. You created the very fibers that held you to a piece of wood to suffer and die. You supplied the very breath of the man that strapped you to a post, driving thick and rusted nails through your palms - The very palms that formed that man. You gave life to the being that spat on your face as you humbled Yourself to a cross.
Lord, why did you do this?
It makes me so angry. It makes me so angry that I could even think about sin. That I could desire anything or anybody but you. It makes me angry that You are not all I think about, all I live for, all I breathe for, and everything I desire. Why are not my thoughts consumed in You and Your incredible glory? When did I become so self absorbed that I found it acceptable not to let You be the driving force for every move I make? When did I become so terribly wrong in actually believing there is something more than You? You're IT! There is nothing beyond You! Everything is so small compared to You. The highest of mountains and the most expanded of valleys are to you as single water drops are to me. You made it. You are the ultimate source and Creator of all things seen and unseen. So why do I so very often treat Your creation as though I control it? As though it's bigger than the God who provided it. My life is not bigger than you, but I live like it is. My thoughts are not greater than Yours, but I think them as though they are. My friends are not more important than You, but I prioritize them as such. When did this happen and how do I make it stop? I'm caught up in this deception that there is something more than an intimacy with You and it disgusts me. Make it stop. Put an end to the false life I live and bring Your Spirit and life into my soul. Breathe in me and move my life in Your direction.
Feed to me only what You desire to see inside me spilling out.
Humble me and grace me with Your never ending mercy.
Daddy, I'm Yours.
If you could love me as a wife
and for my wedding gift, your life
Should that be all I'd ever need
or is there more I'm looking for
and should I read between the lines
and look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what you want
I am a whore I do confess
But I put you on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle
and I run down the aisle
I?m a prodigal with no way home
but I put you on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle to you
So could you love this bastard child
Though I don't trust you to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
and with the other in your side
I am so easily satisfied
by the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over your very flesh and blood
Because money cannot buy
a husband's jealous eye
When you have knowingly deceived his wife