I am a Miracle {and you are too}

You are God who makes my feet,

Like hind’s feet.

You are God who makes me to scale,

My high places.

 

I walk,

And I am not defeated. 

I stand,

And I am not destroyed.

 

God who makes the impossible,

Possible.

Right in my soul. 

 

For truly, God,

My soul is an impossible thing.

And You have done it.

The things that beat and live here,

Ought not to be.

And yet they are.

 

Sovereign God who has created in my soul,

What by all accounts,

Should not exist.

And who I am now,

Is an impossible miracle,

That should not be.

 

God who has made this hopeless,

To hope.

God who has made this broken,

To heal.

God who has made this empty,

To fill.

God who has made this joyless,

To thrill.

 

What You have done in me,

Is nothing less than miracle.

For You’ve taken this once dead heart,

And made it to live.

Really and truly,

Live.

 

You are God,

And I face the storms,

And I don’t shatter.

You are God,

And my mushy heart,

Beats stronger than it knows how to.

 

And I’m standing here,

On solid ground,

In the midst of a churning ocean.

You are a steady rock under my feet,

And I do not fear what comes. 

 

God who has seen me through,

A million storms.

How could I doubt You now?

God who has proved Himself beautiful,

And faithful,

In them all.

 

I do not ask for rescue.

I ask only for the beauty,

That the storms will produce.

For I delight in the fruit of righteousness,

That you are now creating.

And it is worth it to me.

 

It is so worth it.

 

It’s worth it now,

To taste it.

The peace that grows deep,

In the broken tender place,

It speaks a heavenly mystery,

And it sustains my heart.

 

And in the storm,

I find this great joy.

That I can boast in the Lord,

My God,

Who is beautiful,

In the midst of sorrow and trial.

 

I rejoice,

And no sorrow,

Can steal my joy.

And the winds can rock my emotions,

But my soul is founded on Your solid rock,

And somehow my feet find themselves supported here,

And I’m standing.

 

Spray in my face,

Wind in my hair,

I’m standing on this solitary rock,

In the middle of a wind-ravaged sea.

And there’s not land nor ship for miles,

Yet I laugh in the middle of the storm,

For I am perfectly safe,

And perfectly victorious,

Even as I’m battered.

And it makes me giddy.

 

Victory of the Son of God in me,

That charges like a strong bull,

Through whatever trial comes.

And I’m ravaged and ransacked,

But I’m more than a conqueror.

 

And in all things,

No matter how bloodied up I get,

I always find myself on the other side,

And standing,

More than a conqueror.

 

Because all that I go through,

Is not random,

But it is rhythmic and beautiful,

And the tools of the Master Craftsman,

Who is shaping deep,

With a purpose.

 

And in every valley,

And every trial,

You’ve been with me.

Not one moment of pain,

Or heartbreak,

Has ever been wasted.

 

But my soul beats all the stronger,

For all the trials it has been through.

And I cling to You all the more,

When my world is tossed into chaos,

And You are the only anchor,

My soul has.

 

And it’s actually kind of my favorite place to be,

Desperate for You.

And that feeling that You’re the only one I have,

And the only one who is holding me together,

Is actually a terribly holy feeling.

 

And in those moments I know,

That heaven is holding my heart.

And my heart is beating something,

So much more than I am. 

And my souls is breathing a strength,

That is not my own.

 

And my heart is singing a courage by heart,

That it’s learned in words,

For so many years.

And now out of my heart,

Comes flowing the melody,

Behind those words.

 

Melody I’ve never memorized,

And yet my heart breathes it out.

 

And I know where it comes from.

Deep inside of me,

The Son of God sings.

And my chest fills with the courage,

And the melody,

Of His song,

And the sound of His voice.

 

Son of God who sings hope and trust,

And joy in the Father.

Son of God who does not fear the storm,

But rejoices in the glory of the Father here.

 

He sings in my chest.

And I’m buoyed along,

And carried from somewhere,

Deep within me.

{Selah}

 

God Almighty,

Who is even now,

Fulfilling all His plans for me.

I confess Your name,

And I am saved,

From being my own god.

 

God Almighty,

Who makes my life a good thing,

By His presence here.

You have made me,

You have called me,

You are moving in my life,

And You do all things well.

 

I do not know,

How the story will play out,

Exactly.

But I know that it is full of Your glory,

And Your triumph,

And Your victory alive in me.

 

And I know that it ends,

At the throne room,

With me standing before You,

And being like You,

And being loved and accepted by You,

And all Your grace,

Lavished out on my head.

 

And I confess,

I’m not the best or the strongest or the wisest.

I’m not the most eloquent,

Or powerful,

Or disciplined,

Or linear,

Or successful.

 

Some days I can’t even seem to draw the leaf,

That so tantalizes my mind.

 

But here’s the thing,

You are God,

Who chooses the weak,

And foolish things.

 

You are God,

Who chooses the frail and broken things,

And fills them with His glory.

 

And I confess,

I am broken and frail,

And full of holes.

Yet I bear Your glory.

 

And I stumble,

And I fall,

And I bleed,

And I weep,

And I struggle and wrestle,

And get twisted in knots,

But Your victory shines in me.

 

I am weak,

And full of fallen flesh,

But You are the Son of God in me.

And You conquer,

And in ways I don’t even yet see,

You are shining glory in me.

 

And I feel You burning faithful,

Like the sun.

And I see my life full of holes and so many unaccomplished,

And unfinished things.

But You shine perfection over them all.

 

For You are the Son of God,

Who has perfected forever,

Those who are being sanctified.

 

And this is me.

And this is my life.

And I am one,

Covered by You,

And perfected,

Even now,

And forever.

 

Even this soul,

Who is still in the process,

Of being sanctified.

 

God who reigns over my soul,

And I am a living and breathing,

Beautiful thing.

 

I am a miracle.

 

And it still hurts,

To live in this fallen flesh.

My own mistakes and selfish sin,

Still haunt,

And batter me.

 

But You make me more than a conqueror.

 

And one battle at a time,

You live out Your victory in me.

And no matter what temptations,

Satan sends,

Or what trials,

Test my faith,

You burn alive within me,

And You conquer.

 

And You take my soul,

Where it never has been before.

And each time I’m amazed,

That You’ve made my bloody and messy soul,

A victory.

 

But You do.

 

Time and time again,

You do.

 

Because that’s who You are,

Sovereign God.

That’s who You are.

 

And this is the gospel.

 

Jesus Christ who is our victory,

And who has made us trophies of His victory,

And who has made us the fragrance of Himself,

To the Father.

 

Our souls,

Smell like You,

To the Father.

 

Son of God,

You make my soul,

To smell like You.

 

Like Your name.

Like Your glory.

Like Your righteousness.

 

And my life is like a banner,

With Your name written on it.

And my soul is like a garden,

Where Your heart,

Grows up and out,

Of the ground.

 

I am a miracle.

 

A soul of flesh,

Messy and tangled,

Full of weeds,

And broken holes,

Where the Living God,

Dwells,

And thrives.

 

I am Your child.

Born again of Your Spirit.

And Your Spirit,

Is alive and well in me.

 

And what I will be,

Has not yet been revealed.

But when I see You,

Face to face,

I will be like You.

For I will see You,

As You are.

 

Son of God,

Who lives in me now,

Who transforms me,

And triumphs in me,

And who makes my soul,

A beautiful and victorious thing,

 

I just weep at You.

 

For what else can I say?

I, who have known my soul,

From the inside out,

All my life.

I, who have been trapped inside my own flesh,

And my own prison,

Of selfish blackness,

 

I see Your fruit growing up in me,

And I don’t know what to do with myself.

That I could be a broken thing,

Weak, foolish, and selfish,

And yet You grow up here,

And You stand in the midst of me here,

And You shine Your glory…

 

Lord,

Unthinkable.

 

Yet happening.

Right now,

Happening.

 

The Son of God is living in my flesh.

Mine!

My flesh.

With me.

Right here.

 

And You are conquering in me.

And You are taking me forward,

And deeper.

And not even I know,

Who I am anymore.

Or what I’m capable of.

 

For the Son of God marches on in me,

And who knows where He will walk?

And the Son of God,

Grows and triumphs in me,

And who knows what He will do?

 

For nothing is impossible for Him.

And who knows what He will do through me?

He could do anything.

And He could go anywhere.

And when did my life,

Become limitless?

 

I stand on the edge of that question,

Stare into the vastness,

And wonder.

 

I am living in a miracle,

And where are the boundaries?

The God of the impossible,

Lives in my chest.

And what,

Is possible now?

{Selah}

 

I ponder these things,

And I tremble.

Stare out at my life,

And all the holy souls here,

And I’m breathless with wonder.

 

Just watch what He does.

Just watch.

And see if you’re not amazed,

That it’s so much more,

And so far beyond,

What you even conceived.

 

Because,

Friend with the Living God inside your chest,

You are a miracle.

And your life is a miracle.

And you will watch your God,

Do impossible things.

 

So open your eyes and heart wide,

And take it all in.

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