No Matter Where I Am – I’m Always Here

God who speaks to me,

From heaven’s throne.

You are greater than I deserve,

And greater than my words,

Will ever tell.

 

And what I see,

And hear of You,

Will never be known,

Through words alone.

 

The reality of You,

Extends and echoes endlessly.

The beauty of You,

Stretches out endless,

Beyond the sky.

 

My soul stirs,

At Your wind.

And my heart grows,

At Your touch.

 

And the reality,

Of knowing You,

Will always elude,

Human words.

And the best that we can say,

Is only a shadow,

And a reflection,

Of a reflection.

 

But You beckon us closer,

And You draw us nearer to You,

And You bid us come higher,

And dwell.

 

You are God Almighty,

Who pulls at our hearts,

And despite their clay walls,

They come.

 

For the eternal,

Heeds the cry,

Of the Eternal One.

And the spirit,

Knows its Master,

Knows its Maker,

Knows its Lord.

 

And our hearts within us,

Come.

For the Master calls.

 

You tug,

At the depths of our souls,

And the fabric of who we are,

Is drawn to You.

 

You speak,

And our hearts within us burn,

To come home to You.

 

And anywhere Your presence dwells,

Is home.

 

The presence of the Lord,

Is home.

 

God who speaks to us,

From heaven’s throne.

From beyond the clouds,

And within our souls.

 

You are God Almighty,

And You humble Yourself,

And speak to us.

And it’s more than we deserve.

 

For who among us,

Has earned the right,

To hear Your voice?

And who among us,

Is righteous enough,

To know You?

 

Who has earned the right,

To stand in Your presence,

And hear Your voice,

And be known and loved by You?

 

Yet You give this as a gift. 

 

You give fellowship with You as a gift.

You open the door,

And You pour the gospel on us,

And You bid us come close,

As a gift.

 

And no matter where I am,

You are giving me the gospel,

As a gift.

And I can confess it,

And at any moment,

Be in Your presence,

And enter in,

And fellowship with You.

 

No.matter.where.I.am.

 

No matter how high,

Or low,

The road I’m on,

Or the state of my soul,

I can confess Your gospel,

And immediately,

Be home in Your presence,

Fellowshiping with You.

 

No matter where I am.

 

Confessing You,

Is always the right thing.

It is always the truth,

It is always the life,

And it is always the way.

 

Always.

 

Whatever the question,

The answer is Your name.

Whatever the conundrum,

The answer is Your gospel.

 

Wherever I am,

I am in Your gospel.

~Selah~

 

Wherever I am,

I am in Christ,

And He is in me.

I confess it to the four winds,

And I’m in the throne room,

And here You are. 

 

It’s a gift that You’ve given me,

That is always mine,

And I can always,

Use it.

 

I speak the Name,

And the door appears.

I speak the gospel,

And I cross the threshold. 

~Selah~

 

It’s a treasure,

That never rusts.

Or spoils,

Or fades.

 

A treasure store,

That is never depleted,

But almost seems to grow,

With each use.

 

Yet how can an endless,

Grow?

How can an infinite,

Increase?

 

But the riches grow in my soul,

As I drink of the treasure,

And feast on the gold.

And each time I feast on the gospel,

It gets deeper in my soul,

And my roots go down deeper,

Into it,

And I live,

A little more,

Than before.

 

This endless wealth,

Of abundant life,

That seems to pour in,

And flood over,

More and more,

As I learn to drink.

 

Gospel I feast on,

And confess with my soul,

In the moments when I least,

Deserve such a gift.

 

And when I’m weakest,

And poorest,

And dirtiest,

With failure,

Your gospel gleams like a treasure.

 

And the living water flows,

And washes away all the filth.

The gems sparkle with life,

And my soul feels the power of Your grace,

Most potently,

Here.

 

Your grace is relentless,

And Your calling is sure.

Your love is steadfast,

And Your mercy endures,

Forever.

 

Your goodness,

Is boundless.

And Your faithfulness,

Is from eternity,

To eternity.

 

You are God who reigns,

And You are God who gives the gospel,

As a gift,

And who has defined my reality,

As such.

 

You have made my reality,

The gospel.

You have done this,

Because it seemed good to You.

 

And I am forever,

Indebted to Your mercy,

Though You’ve wiped away,

Every debt.

 

And I am forever,

Undeserving of the grace,

That You lavish,

On my head.

Yet You pour it out freely,

As a gift.

 

God who gives grace to me,

Because it pleases Him,

And for His name’s sake.

 

And what can I do,

But praise You?

Fall down at Your feet,

And worship?

 

God who forgives,

All my sin.

God who’s made my soul,

Righteous.

 

Jesus who is,

All of this to me,

And on my behalf,

And who fills and covers,

Every place I lack.

 

God who has made me new,

And reborn.

God who makes me to triumph,

Above all my enemies,

Who accuse.

 

Their accusations,

Land false now.

Because I am in Christ,

And He is in me,

And they can bring no charge,

Against the Sovereign Lord.

 

But I am hidden,

In the Most High God.

And I dwell in His presence,

And in His favor,

And in His tent.

 

And what can my foes,

Do to me?

 

They cannot condemn me,

And they cannot take me,

From my dwelling place,

In Him.

 

The gospel has won the victory,

And the battle is lost to them,

For I am found in Him,

And it is already finished,

Though it finishes playing out here.

 

Christ has won me,

And I am ever in Him,

And I have fellowship,

With the King of heaven.

And all battles,

End here.

And all armies,

Fall here.

 

All sieges fail here,

In the place where the gospel,

Is reality,

And the Son of God,

Is King.

 

I confess His name,

I confess His gospel,

And I dwell in my homeland,

And I abide in the stronghold,

And I feast in His presence.

And every moment is the travelling from one joy,

To another.

And from one moment of worship,

To another.

Never ending.

 

But always further up,

And further in.

 

And that’s the kind of life,

I could get used to.

And indeed,

That’s the real life,

And the abundant life,

And the life I’ll live,

Forever.

 

God Almighty,

You are greater than I know.

And I speak of things,

I barely even begin,

To understand.

 

Yet You speak of heavenly things,

And You sing reality’s song to me,

And I speak back the words,

In faltering,

Human tongue.

 

But Your melody,

Doesn’t translate full,

Into human tongue.

For Your words,

Are spirit and life,

And living and breathing reality.

 

And the true knowing of You,

Is spirit and soul,

And mind and heart,

And strength.

 

It’s a living knowing.

It’s a joining,

A communing,

A coming alive,

And being made whole,

And joining into,

The One who is.

 

From first to last,

You do this.

Make us one with You.

Make us come alive.

Make us holy,

Righteous,

Good,

And new.

 

You do this.

 

You do it all,

From first to last,

Because it pleases You,

And for Your name’s sake.

And You give it all,

As a gift.

~Selah~

Of Heavenly Things

You are the God of brilliant glory,

And I am a soul of clay,

With a tongue of dust.

How can I speak of You?

 

O, unleash my soul,

To sing in the tongues of angels,

And of heaven!

 

Loose my tongue,

To speak of Your glory,

In words I’ve never heard before.

 

Give me the words of heaven,

To speak of the Living God,

In true and living words.

 

For You are the Living Word.

And if I am to speak of You,

It must be in living words.

 

O, God of brilliant beauty,

What I have seen and felt,

And touched!

Your beauty everywhere abounding,

Endless.

 

And I would speak the mysteries,

And the beauties I have seen.

Yet my tongue tastes like dust in my mouth,

And my soul feels all the weight,

Of its weak clay.

 

Yet You are God,

Who rests His glory,

In frail and weak earthenware,

On purpose.

 

And You are God,

Who chose the weak,

And foolish things of the world,

To show Your beauty,

Plain as day.

 

God Almighty,

The world would break our hearts,

With its beauty,

If we but had eyes,

To see it.

 

Your nature splashed,

Over everything everywhere.

I see it.

And it brings tears to my eyes,

It is so brilliantly beautiful.

 

And it breaks my heart.

For the smelling of the feast,

Only makes the body salivate,

And hunger all the more.

 

And I see perfection,

Written in pages.

And I dream of perfection,

As a living reality.

 

And I see the picture,

And the ache in my soul,

Is too much to bear.

And I want to reach right through,

And into the painting,

And join myself,

To the reality,

That the beauty frames.

 

I find myself walking,

Down twilight roads,

In the cool of the evening.

In the quiet before night.

 

I look up at clouds and sky,

Pass reverently by the mighty trees,

Silent sentinels whispering wisdom,

Deep and old,

If we have but eyes to hear.

 

I listen with my eyes,

Hear the stories that they tell.

Glean the wisdom of their age,

And the vanity of man’s pursuits,

Under the sun.

 

Trees that have seen,

The rise and fall of kingdoms.

The passing of time,

The changing of thought,

And all the pride and ignorance,

Which govern man’s ways.

 

I listen with my eyes,

And hear wisdom speak a better way. 

Upward the boughs point,

And my gaze follows.

 

And these trees with deep roots,

And wide trunks,

And old souls,

Point heavenward,

To endless sky.

And I lift my gaze higher,

And I ponder the heavens. 

 

The heavens.

This thin veil,

Between here,

And the highest heaven,

And my forever home,

The place where the Most High dwells.

 

Veil that ripples,

And sways in the breeze.

And when the wind blows,

For that moment,

I see past the thin veil,

And there is no more flesh,

But the throne room is right here,

And perfection has come. 

 

Then the breeze stills,

And the sky falls back into place,

And I see eternity,

In reflection.

Glory of the Most High,

And I see it in the mirror,

Of a sunset sky.

 

Brilliance of color,

Layered deep and endless,

In a boundless ocean of sky.

 

I’m swimming in glory.

I’m swallowed up in the expanse,

And I live my whole life,

Under the ocean of heaven,

And I could run forever,

Yet I’ll never reach the other side.

 

The heavens speak to me of Your nature,

And Your name,

And one day I’ll know the God behind the heavens,

Face to face,

Forever.

 

I think of that,

As I walk.

I think of new heaven,

And new earth,

And untainted life with You.

 

I think of fellowship,

And communion,

And a life of holy work and worship,

With no sin.

 

I think of the highest joy I’ve tasted,

And the deepest peace I’ve known.

I think of the greatest treasures,

My soul has feasted on,

And how the perfect form,

Will surpass them all.

 

I think of what it will be like,

To know You forever,

With a perfect soul.

 

I think of it,

And the longer I think of it,

The stronger the urge becomes,

To mount up with wings like eagles,

And soar up through the sky,

To the highest heaven,

Beyond.

 

And then I’m struck by this new thought,

That breaks my heart,

Thoroughly open,

And my soul spills out,

There on the ground,

As I walk.

 

I think about how in heaven,

And the new heaven and earth,

And perfect life with You,

There will be more than just,

Me and You,

And nature,

And harmony and holy in these relationships here.

 

But there will be people.

And there will be relationships,

And fellowship with one another,

In the fellowship with You.

 

And the oneness Jesus prayed for,

Will exist in inconceivable fullness,

There.

 

And all of us together,

Will be part of the fellowship,

Of the Trinity.

 

And what kind of fellowship,

Will we know with each other,

In that day?

 

I try to imagine it,

What it will be like,

To know perfect love,

With each other.

 

My heart turns tender and warm,

At the thought.

 

All the love,

I’ve never known here,

And all the lovely,

I’ve failed to be here,

I will know and be,

There.

 

And every friendship,

Will be the highest kind. 

And loyalty and selflessness,

And sacrificial love,

Will be the norm,

And the breath,

And the everyday beauty.

 

And the perfection we glimpse in bits,

And we strive to be here,

We will be,

There.

 

It fills my heart,

With a new kind of hope.

And it fills me with a new passion,

And desire,

To see and to savor,

The bits of perfect love,

That break in,

And shine through.

 

For I see the beautiful holy,

Of love in human souls,

As more than just,

Human effort.

But I see it now,

For what it truly is.

The fruit of eternity,

And the promise of the harvest,

Peeking though.

 

The firstfruits. 

 

Love is one of the firstfruits.

And it’s more than just,

The love that peeks through here.

 

But there is a whole harvest of love,

And these are just the firstfruits,

And He’s cultivating the harvest in us,

And when these days of laboring in love are over,

Then the complete and perfect,

Will come,

And we will know perfect love,

Forever.

 

Suddenly the beautiful,

Is more holy.

Suddenly it’s more than a falling leaf,

Or a fleeting thing.

 

But it’s a promise,

A glimpse into the future,

A seedling,

A firstfruit,

A reflection.

 

And each act of love,

And each glimpse of beauty,

Is a promise,

And a holy,

With deep roots,

And old wisdom,

And boughs that reach up to the sky.

 

And each beauty,

Is a glimpse of the eternal.

And the eternal beauty,

Is not fading away.

 

The moments here,

Fade and fall,

Like autumn leaves.

 

But the eternal reality,

That grows the tree,

And plants the roots,

And paints the leaves,

Endures forever.

 

Our moments,

Fade.

And our bodies,

Wither and die.

But the holy in the moments,

And the eternal behind the eyes,

Live forever.

 

And nothing here,

Is ever just for here.

And every moment,

Is an eternal one,

Is a holy one.

 

And every moment we walk,

In the presence of the Most High,

Beneath the ceiling of the ocean,

Of heaven.

 

And the wind blows,

And the tree grows,

And the curtain ripples,

And we glimpse right through.

 

And perfection is coming soon,

And we glimpse it here,

And these are just the firstfruits.

And the harvest is coming,

And the King.

The One Sacrifice and the Soul’s New Name

You are God who wakens me,

And who today has given me breath.

God who wakes the world,

To live another day.

God who sends His rain,

Upon the earth.

 

Sovereign God,

Who rules over all.

I wake today,

And I confess Your name.

 

I find You here,

In the secret place of the morning.

I find You here,

In my quiet place,

When I wake.

 

I sit in the quiet,

And I try to make out the sound,

Of Your voice.

It takes a while,

Before my ears tune,

And I can hear You speaking,

Your own name.

 

God who speaks His own name.

In pages of Scripture,

In spirit and truth,

In the light patter of the rain,

Outside my window.

 

Everything is speaking Your name,

If I only have ears,

To hear it.

 

I read Your word,

And it speaks of sacrifices,

And I think about how,

When the animal was given,

And the blood was slain,

There was also this offering of bread,

And wine.

 

And I think about what I read,

In John the other day.

When Jesus spoke to the crowd,

And told them to eat His flesh,

And drink His blood,

Because He was true bread,

And true drink.

 

I think of that,

And it strikes me.

Every time the Israelites offered sacrifice,

They were proclaiming Christ.

And they didn’t even know it.

 

But You did.

 

You were the One,

Who made it this way.

And that’s why Moses,

Had to do everything,

According to what He saw and received,

On the mountain.

 

Because all that they were doing,

And all that they were seeing,

Was a type of a heavenly reality.

And somewhere up in heaven,

The Lamb of God,

Was pledging Himself.

 

And each time a sacrifice was offered,

You smelled the promise,

Of the sacrifice,

Of the Son of God.

 

That’s why the offerings,

Were a pleasing aroma to You.

Because when You smelled them,

You smelled the sweet sacrifice of Christ,

Soon coming.

 

Lamb of God,

Who was slain before,

The foundation of the world.

And yet,

Not yet.

Promised and done,

Yet not done.

 

Yet with every offering,

It was Your Son You were receiving,

As promise.

As payment.

 

And that’s why the scent,

Was pleasing to You.

For You have no pleasure,

In the blood of bulls,

Or goats.

 

But it was the love offering,

Of Your Son,

That You were receiving,

Every time,

The blood was spilled,

On the altar.

~Selah~

 

The Israelites,

Had no idea,

That with every offering,

Of every sacrifice,

They were proclaiming the slaughter,

Of their God,

On their behalf.

 

They had no idea,

That this is what,

They were declaring.

They had no idea,

That this is the promise,

They were holding.

 

For who could have imagined,

That the Most High,

Fearsome and glorious,

Would make Himself,

Small and frail,

And bleed His own blood,

And be slaughtered like a lamb,

To redeem them?

 

Who among the Israelites,

Would have dreamt,

That the Most High,

Would,

Or could,

Die for them?

 

The Most High was the God they feared,

And served,

And followed,

And trusted,

And loved,

For His faithfulness to them.

 

He was the God,

Who hated their sin,

With all His holy wrath.

 

And yet with every slaughter,

Of every animal,

They were declaring it,

The way the Son of God,

Would die for their sins.

 

And every time they offered,

You smelled the sacrifice,

Of Christ,

Soon coming,

And Your heart found delight,

In its own mercy.

 

Who could have fathomed it?

Indeed,

Who can fathom it now?

 

God who delights,

In His own mercy.

God who delights,

To be the redeemer,

Of His people.

 

God who delights in being gracious,

At the cost,

Of His own hurt.

 

God who would delight,

To sacrifice for us.

And all along the Israelites,

Thought they were the ones sacrificing.

But really it was Your own sacrifice,

They were giving to You,

In promise.

~Selah~

 

And really the only sacrifice,

From even the very beginning,

Was Yours.

 

And every lamb,

And every goat,

Was really You.

And all along the mercy,

Was at Your own expense.

Was Your gift,

At Your own cost.

 

And You delighted to do this.

What kind of a God are You,

That You would delight,

To sacrifice Yourself,

To give mercy,

And grace?

 

A God beyond comprehension.

A God whose depths,

None can fathom.

 

The infinite God,

Who lavishes love,

And kindness,

And compassion on us.

 

And why,

Will keep us wondering forever,

At the mystery of You.

And we will never reach the end,

Of who You are.

 

We’ve been pardoned.

And more than that,

Blessed,

Beyond all measure.

 

And I wonder if we,

Have any idea at all,

What You have done,

And who You are,

And how You love us,

And what that speaks,

Of You.

 

Children once sinners,

Now brought into the Holy of Holies,

And right into the middle,

Of the fellowship of the Trinity.

And all around us we are embraced,

By the Triune God.

 

I wonder if we understand,

What that means.

 

For nothing unholy,

Can dwell in the middle,

Of the communion of the Trinity.

And yet it is here,

That we find ourselves,

Right now.

 

In the most holy place imaginable,

We stand.

In the communion of the Triune God,

We live.

 

It’s a wonder we can still breathe.

 

And how could sinners,

Stand in the middle,

Of the fellowship,

Of the Triune God?

 

In the holiest of the holiest of the holy places,

With the awesome power,

Of the Living God,

Here we are.

 

And we are beholding Him,

With unveiled faces.

And we are in the Trinity,

And the Trinity is in us.

 

And.what.does.that.mean?

 

May we give more thought to the wondering,

And the worship.

For all our eternal days,

We will never cease,

To worship this God,

And declare this mystery.

 

And all eternity,

We will sing the name,

Of the Son of God,

The Lamb who was slain.

 

The Lamb of God,

Who took away our sin,

And turned sinners into saints,

And made our souls,

Thoroughly and completely,

Clean.

 

For no unclean thing,

Can dwell with the Most High.

But He dwells with us now,

And we will dwell with Him forever.

 

And how thorough,

And how powerful,

Is the blood of the Son,

That it could bring us into God’s presence,

As clean and spotless things?

~Selah~

 

I think of my own soul,

And how it’s clean,

Because of Your blood,

And to use the word clean,

On myself,

Makes me weep.

 

And the power of what You’ve done,

Hits home.

For if can be called clean,

You must be the Son of God.

 

And holy, holy, holy are You,

And all praise,

To Your name.

 

For the victory,

Is Yours.

And I am but a trophy,

Of what You have done.

And I am nothing but the vessel,

And the recipient,

Of redemption.

 

God who gave Himself,

As the only offering,

For sin,

From the very beginning,

 

And God who chose me,

To be one,

Of Your redeemed,

And Your praise,

 

All worship and glory,

And honor and power,

Are Yours.

 

And who I am,

Is nothing.

But You are all redemption.

And the only thing my life is,

Is praise.

 

Praise for what You’ve done.

Lord,

I am nothing but Your praise.

 

This is the legacy of my life,

And my soul’s joy.

To be Your worship,

And Your praise.

~Selah~

 

Ponder that,

O my soul.

Ponder that,

And find your highest joy,

And you heart’s contentment,

And your rightful place.

 

Ponder that,

And enter into the joy of your Lord.

Enter into your new identity,

As the praise of Your God.

 

A trophy of His victory.

A song of His praise.

A vessel of His glory.

A work of His hands.

A living worship.

A living sacrifice.

 

That’s who you are, soul.

 

Enter into His finished work,

And live your life,

As His praise.

Beauty That Calls Us Home

I sit beneath the trees,

And the wind blows its gentle breeze.

 

I know not where it comes from,

Or where it goes,

Or what its purpose is,

On the earth.

 

Yet it moves where it wishes,

And I hear its sound,

And I feel its breath.

And the world would be dull and still and stale,

Without the stirring of the wind.  

 

Without the gentle breeze,

To stir the leaves,

And animate the trees,

And make them dance and speak,

Would there be life in creation?

 

Without the forceful gale,

To bring in storm and weather and water,

How would the earth drink?

What life could grow,

If there were no wind,

To drive the rain,

Where it is needed?  

 

I walk and the breeze gently brushes against my skin,

And I think of these things.

Try to imagine a world,

Where there was no movement,

Of the wind.  

 

It’s not a world,

I would want to live in.

Such a stale and dead,

And lifeless world.

 

And indeed,

One that would soon surely,

Wither dry and die.  

 

I think of that.

How vital wind is.

And how musical,

And magical,

And holy it is too.

 

God who chose to create wind.

But You didn’t have to.

There must have been an infinite number of ways,

You could have set to govern the earth.

 

But You chose this one.

You chose wind.

Breath.

Movement.

Life.

 

The wind blows,

And the world dances,

And there really is something alive and holy,

In the moving.  

 

Creation bobs and breathes,

And there’s a gentle speaking in the wind.

A whisper gently caressing the ear.

A living spirit that beckons us to hear.

 

The wind blows with a will and a purpose.

And so too Your Spirit.

Living, breathing Spirit,

Of the Living, Breathing God.

 

You speak,

You move,

You dance,

You live,

Within us,

And You make us to live.  

 

And the world can’t long live,

Without the gentle stirring of wind.

And there is no life,

Without the breathing of Your Spirit.  

 

Life with You is a living life.

It’s a breathing life.

You move,

And we live.  

 

God who fills the world with a song.

And the song that it is singing,

Is You.

 

Sunlight falls,

Strong and sure and golden,

On the earth below.

And the grass and the treetops,

Glow with life.

 

And you can almost reach out,

And take the sunlight in your hands,

And cup it to your face,

And drink it.  

 

God who is light,

And in You there is no darkness at all.

You fill the earth,

With Your nature,

And we drink it up,

And we live.  

 

I watch the wild things,

Leap and fly,

From tree to tree.

With skill and assurance,

They fly and they spring and they leap.  

 

Unashamed,

Unintimidated,

Unafraid,

They live with all they have,

And they thrive.  

 

The bids that soar,

And fly in patterns and pairs,

And just seem to know,

What to do.

 

How to fly,

And how to soar together,

In rhythm and harmony,

Symmetry and beauty.

 

And how do they know?

Who taught them what is beautiful,

And wise?  

 

I see the mark of the Creator,

Written into their DNA.

 

I watch the squirrels,

As they leap assuredly,

From branch to branch,

And tree to tree,

And tree to rooftop.

 

They climb so nimbly,

And they leap without second thought,

Or recalculation,

Or fear.  

 

This is what they do.

This is what they know.

And they are sure that they will reach the other branch,

In safety.

 

I watch them,

Amazed.

Would that I had such courage,

To leap from branch to branch,

With never a second guess,

Or a doubt in my mind!

 

Their Creator made them fearless,

And nimble,

And agile,

And skillful and wise,

In ways that I am not.

 

I watch them,

And I marvel.

They live as You made them,

And they speak of You.

Your wisdom,

Your power,

Your intricacy,

And Your beauty.  

 

All around me,

Creation speaks such things.

And all around me,

I read the wisdom,

Of the Creator.

I taste His beauty,

And I long for more.  

 

And I feel in my breast,

Exactly what C.S. Lewis once said.

I feel this ache,

To join with and be united to and be one with,

The beauty I see.

 

I do not merely wish to savor,

But to reach through creation’s ceiling,

And join my soul fully,

To the soul of the One,

Who is Living Beauty.  

 

I ache to fly,

Through the ceiling of sky,

And enter full into Paradise,

And join my soul,

To the pure and eternal,

Beauty.

 

I ache to follow the river,

To its source.

To swim upstream,

And find the glorious spring,

And plunge my soul,

Right into its depths,

And be swallowed up,

And united,

And made one,

With this Source.

 

Source of all truth and beauty.

Source of all wisdom and goodness and life.

I ache to be one with the fullness of You.

I ache in a way,

That is almost unbearable.  

 

Would that the sky would rend,

And You would come down!

Would that these human eyes would see,

The Glorious One,

Whom no one can behold!

 

Would that I would know,

The Beautiful One,

Who lives beyond,

The beauty of all that I see.

 

Each day You call to me.

Sing to me with dancing leaves,

And laughing sunshine.

Whisper to me with mysterious wind,

And echoes of beauty.  

 

Each day You call my soul toward home,

As You speak to me from outside my window.

Each day I touch beauty,

And I taste goodness,

And it fills my soul like sunshine,

Like laughter,

Like a glorious and heavenly song,

And I ache to come home.  

 

And You speak truth and beauty to me,

And it’s Your constant singing,

That lures me ever deeper.

It’s Your constant beckoning,

That pulls me deeper into the journey,

And further up,

And further in.

 

And over each hill,

There is more beauty.

And sometimes when I’m running,

With the breeze in my hair,

And the sunshine on my face,

My heart is so swollen with joy and melody,

I think it will burst,

And I will just explode.

 

Sometimes in the running free,

Over Your green hills,

My heart is beating so wildly,

And strongly,

And fiercely,

I really do feel,

On the verge of bursting open.  

 

And sometimes I feel,

Like I’m a hair’s breadth away,

From the bursting open,

Of the eternal.  

 

And I know that the eternal lives in my chest,

And it drives me ever on.

 

Further up,

And further in.

And there is no end.  

 

Yet I keep thinking,

That perhaps over the next crest,

Will be the wide open landscape,

And the welcome home,

And the fullness of the glory and the beauty,

And the worship of the Father,

And the Son of God,

And the never ending communion.  

 

I taste the firstfruits.

I feel the Spirit.

I swell and I explode and I break,

And I ache so much for the fullness,

A lifetime seems too long to wait.

 

Yet You do all things well,

And even the waiting.

And I know that You have glory and beauty and purpose,

Here.

 

And all of this here and now,

The living and the growing and the trials and the journey,

Are producing this weight of glory,

That will one day be the treasure,

Laid in our hands,

At the end of the road.  

 

Your voice speaks,

And I feel You and I hear You now,

In this living life,

And this temporal place,

And this life of journey,

Ever onward,

Up to You.  

 

And to hear You and know You,

And commune with You here,

Is grace sufficient,

For the journey.

 

And there is joy in Your presence,

And peace in Your gospel,

And hope in Your name.

And it is enough,

To fill us,

And also,

To drive us on.

 

We fill with the firstfruits,

But we ache for the full harvest.

So we eat the firstfruits,

But we till and we climb,

And we run like mad,

For the fullness,

For the harvest,

For the end of the road,

And the home with Your presence,

Forever.

 

The fullness of the communion,

And the fullness of the knowing,

And the fullness of the worshiping,

And the fullness of the being,

We ache for it.

We run for it.

We pursue it.  

 

With hearts full of firstfruits,

And bursting with life and joy,

We fly forward toward the treasure,

Toward the King,

Toward the One who is singing in our souls.

 

To the One whose singing,

Is drawing our hearts,

Further up,

And further in,

Toward the prize,

And the end,

And His face,

And home.

Yahweh’s Masterpiece

God who waits with me,

Still, in the quiet night.

This day has kept me running,

From my own racing heartbeat.

 

But I still,

And claw my way past the raging,

And take hold of keys,

And I find You still here,

Waiting.

 

God who has been with me all the day,

And I’ve known it.

Felt Your presence hanging near me,

And all around me,

Like a cloud,

Overshadowing me.

 

But guilt has made me restless,

And the cloud felt like a pressure,

Closing in,

And I’ve held it at arm’s length.

 

Guilt and fear,

Of failure,

And being wrong,

Have kept me dancing in circles,

All day.

 

I look back now,

And I’ve been like a silly prancing pony,

Dancing wild in circles,

And up on my hind legs,

Making a fool of myself,

Much to someone’s amusement. 

 

And I’ve spent the day,

Running from my own shadow,

And making terrors,

Out of hanging linens.

 

And anxiety has a way,

Of making you afraid to sit still,

Or to do anything, really.

And suddenly everything,

Becomes the wrong thing,

And nothing gets done well,

As you flit nervously from task,

To task.

 

Like a frightened Goldilocks,

Running to and fro,

Trying out all the different beds and chairs,

Trying to figure out which one feels right.

 

Flitting from bowl to bowl,

And trying all the different porridge,

Trying to figure out,

Which one tastes right.

 

But none of them do. 

And with each one you wonder,

Is this one better?

Or was the last?

 

And anxiety is like the story of Goldilocks,

Unending.

Where she just flits from chair to chair,

And bed to bed,

In a panicked frenzy to choose the right one,

Before time runs out.

 

It’s quite comical really,

From the outside.

But from the inside it feels like a prison.

Like your rib cage has become iron bars,

Shutting in your panicked and fluttering heart,

Desperate for escape.

 

So I have spent this day.

And I shake my head at myself,

And I sigh heavy,

And I feel the weight of failure,

Land like a thick wet blanket,

On my shoulders.

 

And what I was running from,

Found me.

And it turns out the running,

Was the trap right into its teeth,

All along.

 

The day ends,

And half-done things,

And half-thought thoughts,

And half-fulfilled intentions,

Lie strewn at my feet.

 

And I’m standing in a circle of half-finished,

And failure.

And the despair weighs on me,

Like a dampness lingering just outside the circle,

Menacing and mocking,

And intent on snuffing out,

My very worth and existence.

 

Voices call me names,

And there’s no escape from their bleating. 

From somewhere outside of the circle,

Hidden in the shadows,

They take their turns,

Mocking,

Accusing.

Making me dizzy with the chasing after,

The trails of their arguments.

 

I stand here amidst the half-finished mess,

And the failure is evident,

At my feet.

And the names that they cry,

Find their way into my tender places,

And they pierce,

For they’re true.

 

I am all the things they cry at me.

Idolater.

Adulterer.

Arrogant.

Lofty.

Self-righteous.

 

These demons of my flesh,

Live in me still.

And haunted by their shadows,

I have lived many days,

In tormented fear,

And self-loathing guilt.

 

But in the middle of the circle,

Of half-finished and failure,

There burns a fire.

And I am standing in its glow,

And though the voices taunt me,

From outside in the shadows,

They cannot come near the light,

Nor the flame.

 

For standing here,

In darkest night,

There burns the gospel.

And none of the forces of darkness,

Can come near the fire,

Nor quench or quell,

Its flames.

 

The light shines in the darkness,

And the darkness has not overcome it.

 

The voices taunt me,

And they call me names,

All of them true.

 

But I walk on. 

 

They shout in my ears,

But I stay near the fire,

And I press on,

In spite of myself,

And my failure.

 

For I’m finally,

Slowly,

Starting to get it into my bones.

 

That You are the victory of the gospel.

And I walk on,

Because You have won.

And because my soul,

Is Your trophy,

And Your victory.

 

I walk on,

Because it’s not about me,

But it’s about You.

 

And if I would only get it sooner,

I would spare myself much distress.

Yet that I get it at all,

And can stand,

And even lift my face,

And dare to worship,

Is grace. 

 

This anchor in my soul,

This habit that is taking hold,

And changing me.

 

This truth that holds like an anchor.

This promise like a solid rock,

In the midst of a raging sea.

 

Confessing Your name.

 

And I remember who You are,

And everything changes.

 

For all the accusations,

And the fears,

And the guilt,

Are looking at me.

And it’s unanswerable,

With my own name.

 

I have nothing to say to it,

And no excuse to make.

My own name,

Is unsuitable.

And my track record,

Is covered with mud,

Where I’ve marched in my own name,

And left a tattered trail.

 

But the gospel,

Isn’t about my name.

It’s about Yours.

 

And it’s Your name we will praise forever.

And it’s Your salvation we will sing.

And at the end of it all,

It has really nothing to do,

With us at all.

 

But it’s Your plan,

And Your work,

From beginning to end.

 

And You do all things well.

 

You do good and thorough,

And beautiful work.

And I marvel at the plan You’re unfolding.

 

You created the world,

With Your spoken word,

And You said it was good.

How much greater,

Is this part of the work,

Where You bled Your own blood,

And plunged deep,

Into Your own plan?

 

For all eternity,

We will be singing,

How good and great it is.

 

And You look on all this work,

And You smile.

And the finished work,

Delights Your soul.

 

And You are Yahweh,

The Uncaused One,

And no one forced Your hand,

Or made You to do this,

Or forced You to be,

Who You are.

 

But You chose all this,

Willingly,

Because it pleased and delighted You,

To do so.

 

And from before creation,

You knew the beginning from the end,

And You worked the whole thing,

From start to finish,

Because it pleased You.

 

God who has painted,

The story of creation and redemption,

With deepest colors and shades,

You delight in the work Your hands have done.

 

God who has plunged deeper,

Into the fabric of reality,

Than we will ever go.

God whose work,

Is so much deeper than we know,

You delight in what You have done.

 

You are the Boundless God,

Who does boundless work.

And Your redemption,

Is a pool that has no bottom.

 

And we’ve only just waded in,

And we’re sinking to the bottom,

But there is no bottom,

And we keep sinking.

Forever.

 

Bottomless God,

Who has swallowed us up,

Into His vastness.

God who has taken us,

Right into the heart,

Of His limitless depths.

 

We explode within ourselves,

And we worship what we see and taste and touch,

And still we have no idea,

Of the vastness.

 

But You look on the depths,

Of what You’ve done,

And You understand the ripples,

And You can peer into the expanse,

And You look out over it,

And Your soul is well-pleased,

With what You’ve done.

 

Your redemption,

Is Your handiwork.

It is Your masterpiece,

And Your soul’s delight.

 

You delight in Your own work,

And the beauty You’ve created,

Through infinite wisdom.

 

And we are trophies of Your victory,

And the fruit of Your labor,

And the product of Your work.

And You delight in us,

The end of Your labor,

And the masterpiece of Your blood, sweat and tears.

 

From beginning to end,

You have worked it,

And created it.

And we stand here,

Amazed to be a part of it.

Amazed at the glorious masterpiece,

We’ve become.

 

Worthy is the Lamb,

Who has ransomed people to God,

From every tribe, tongue, and nation.

Worthy is He,

Who has made us a kingdom,

And priests to our God.

 

Blessed is the One,

Who has done all of this,

From first to last.

 

The one who planned it,

And executed it,

And brought it all ’round,

To where He intended it to be.

 

Blessed is the God,

Who did all this,

Because it pleased Him.

 

The God who planned creation and redemption,

Because He chose to,

And who worked it like a masterpiece,

And whose soul rests,

In the fruit of His deep work.

 

Blessed is this God,

Who works deep things,

Out of the deepest places.

God whose wisdom is beyond comprehension,

And whose beauty extends beyond sight,

In all directions.

 

We walk in this world,

And it’s full of the Uncaused God.

We touch truth,

And it tinges with the electricity,

Of the One whose nature,

It is.

 

Our world is alive,

With the Uncaused God.

And He created,

Because it pleased Him.

We ponder this and suddenly,

Our world is deeper than we knew.

 

And suddenly there is infinite wisdom,

In even the dirt at our feet,

And in our DNA.

 

There is infinite wisdom and beauty,

In all that our God has done.

And there is the vastness of His soul,

And His nature,

Hidden in every thing.

 

And it’s in the Son of God,

That we see the nature of the Most High,

In it’s fullness and potency.

And the depths of His soul,

Are unsearchable.

 

Son of God,

Who, for the joy set before Him,

Endured the cross,

Despising its shame.

 

Son of God,

Who did the Father’s deepest work,

Which the Father Himself,

Was doing.

 

For the Son did,

Only what He saw the Father doing.

And the Son died upon the cross,

And this was the Father working,

The deepest part of His masterpiece.

 

And His soul was well satisfied,

In the depths of His work.

And though He despised the shame,

Yet the beauty He was making,

Brought Him joy.

 

And that joy,

Will last for all eternity.

As the Son sits enthroned,

And the redeemed stand before the throne,

And worship.

 

And the beauty of redemption,

In that heavenly place,

And all that comes,

In the new heaven and earth,

I cannot even begin,

To fathom.

 

These are depths,

I haven’t peered into.

And for the moment,

I am not permitted to know,

Or to look.

 

But I see it up ahead,

And reflected,

In a mirror dimly.

Yet one day,

will see it,

Face to face.

 

Redemption’s full beauty,

Will stare me full in the face.

And I will behold the very depths of wisdom,

And I will gaze into the eyes,

Of the God who has no beginning,

Or end.

 

And the depth of the treasure,

Of being there with Him,

And being a breathing part,

Of His completed masterpiece,

I cannot even begin to begin,

To comprehend.

 

To see redemption full in the face,

And from beginning to end,

All laid out before me,

Stretching end to end,

In the heavens of God,

I cannot imagine.

 

To see the kingdom of God,

Laid out from beginning to end,

This sea of faces and souls.

And to be a part of it,

And gaze full on the Lamb of God,

And the Glorious Father,

And to sing their praises,

For all eternity long,

 

And in that moment,

And in the praising,

To be a very part,

Of their souls’ satisfaction,

And the very trophy and fragrance,

Of their victory and masterpiece,

It is more than my soul,

Knows what to do with.

 

Yet this is precisely,

What You are moving me toward.

And this is precisely,

What I am part of right now,

Though the fullness of what I will be,

Is not yet known.

 

But when I see You,

I shall be like You,

For I shall see You as You are.

 

Son of God,

I am a trophy of Your victory.

And my life plays out Your victory,

And each moment it does,

My life lives out praise to You.

 

And my triumph,

Is Your success.

And the fruit of Your work.

And the Father delights,

And is pleased with You,

And what You’ve done.

 

And I stand before the Father,

And my soul is not my own resume,

But Yours.

 

And it reads Your name,

And it is Your success story,

And Your praise,

And Your song.

 

And the Father is pleased,

With Your work,

With His work,

With His masterpiece.

 

You are the Uncaused God,

Who creates,

And delights in His own masterpiece.

 

And I am one small part of that.

And my soul is Your victory,

And Your delight.

 

I ponder these things,

And heaven seems to be breathing right here.

And I am not worthy to breathe this,

Yet You breathe in me,

And I am part of something,

Far, far, far greater than me.

 

Almighty God,

Unworthy as I am to offer it,

Yet I stand here,

And I give You worship,

And praise,

For what You’ve done.

 

And it should come,

From fairer lips,

Than mine.

And yet the clay of my lips,

Makes the power and beauty of Your song,

Ever sweeter.

 

Son of God,

In an earthen vessel,

Of clay.

 

Heaven and hell alike,

Marvel.

And I stand wide-eyed,

In the middle of grace,

Far greater than me.

{Selah}

 

The fire’s become a blaze now,

And the voices have long since vanished.

The glory of God blazes brilliant here,

And my soul goes into the Holy of Holies to worship,

And here in the warmth of His presence,

The Holy One bids my weak flesh,

Lie down in safety,

And sleep.

 

And so I do.

And my Savior tucks me into Him,

And my Shepherd bids me rest,

And my soul finds rest in His presence,

And I sleep.

Alive

Son of God,

Who blesses me with life. 

I wake today,

And I am really and truly alive,

Deep in my soul,

And I thank You,

For this gift.

 

The gift of life,

That You alone,

Can give.

And You have given it to me,

And I breathe in sacred life.

 

The Spirit of the Most High,

Breathes inside of me.

And I am really and truly,

Soul and spirit,

Alive.

 

Eternally.

 

Eternally alive,

With the Living God,

Himself alive in me.

 

What it means to be alive,

I cannot fully comprehend.

To have the Spirit of the Living God within you,

Who can comprehend,

What this means?

 

I start to gaze into the depths of You,

And I am undone,

And baffled.

Yet the fullness of this mystery,

Dwells within me,

In ways I have yet,

To fathom.

 

I breathe in the air of today,

And I marvel that I am so,

Alive.

 

Son of God,

I am Your Spirit’s forever home.

 

For You have not come to dwell with me,

Temporarily.

You do not merely tolerate my soul,

For a time.

 

But You are making my soul,

Your permanent dwelling.

And it will be a place,

Suitable for You.

 

You Yourself,

Will see to it.

 

For You will not dwell eternally,

In an unsuitable house.

And a less than perfect soul,

Would never be,

Your holy temple.

 

But You dwell in me,

And You call me Your temple,

And You are transforming me,

Into a worthy home.

 

I could never be worthy enough,

To have enticed and invited You here.

But You came like a gift,

Like the Master,

And the Builder,

Of the house,

Come back to claim,

What’s His.

 

And now You are here,

You will transform this house,

Into a worthy abode.

And my soul will be,

Worthy of the glory,

Of the Most High God.

 

This soul,

Will forever be,

The home of the Living God.

 

And You’ve come to stay,

For all eternity.

 

I ponder what that means,

And it takes my breath away.

{Selah}

 

I am the forever home,

Of the Living God.

 

And the Spirit who raised Christ,

From the dead,

Now lives within me.

I take the weight of that truth,

And I hold it in my soul,

And it’s a weight of glory,

Altogether too wonderful for me.

 

Living Son of God,

Your Spirit fills my chest.

I ponder what this means,

And it makes me tremble.

 

My mind splits open,

Like the tearing of a new birth.

There’s an expanding in my soul,

Just to take in a glimpse of You.

 

God whom I worship,

There are days You draw me close,

And bid me look deeper,

Into the pools of who You are.

 

I gaze into Your nature,

And what You’ve declared Your name to be,

Consider it,

And roll it over in my head,

And my soul tears open,

As I expand to take in,

As much as my human flesh,

Can.

 

I gaze into the pools of You,

And I’m staring straight down,

Into a vast abyss,

That has no bottom. 

 

I see straight down into bottomless,

But I can only drink,

The water cupped in my hands,

Here at the surface.

 

My heart skips a beat,

My breath catches in my chest,

And for a moment I wonder,

How to worship You.

 

I stand peering into Your depths,

And they’re so far beyond me,

And You are so much unlike me.

And there are no human words,

And no human thoughts,

High enough,

Or deep enough,

To even do justice,

To the ripples along Your surface.

 

I stand here lost for words,

And I wonder how I’ll ever speak again.

What I have seen,

Silences me.

 

For the God of heaven,

Is so much greater than I knew.

And who am I to speak of Him,

And His depths,

As though I understood,

And knew Him?

{Selah}

 

And were the story to end here,

It would be a sorry state.

For there would be nothing for humanity,

But being undone.

 

But here’s the marvel,

And the saving grace,

And the miracle,

That only deepens the mystery,

Even while it takes me into its center.

 

Your Spirit lives in me. 

 

The Living God,

Whom I cannot comprehend,

His very nature lives in my chest.

And I am forever joined,

With the High God of heaven,

Whom I cannot,

Comprehend.

{Selah}

 

That’s the grace that changes everything.

That’s the gift that brings us near.

Spirit of the Son of God,

Living in our chests.

And You know us as Your own,

By the Spirit that blazes within.

 

And as the Son was and is to the Father,

So too are we.

As the Son understood and knew the Father,

So Your Spirit within us,

Understands and knows You,

As our human minds,

Could never have dreamed to hope.

 

And as the Son’s soul,

Lives only for the Father’s will,

So Your Spirit within us,

Burns with fire for the pleasure of the Son of God,

And of the Father.

 

Infinite wisdom of God,

Now dwelling within our souls.

Righteous hunger for God,

Worshiping Him,

All the day.

 

The mind and nature and desire,

Of the Son of God,

Now burning within us,

And abiding within us,

Forever.

 

And we are the forever home,

Of the Spirit of Christ.

Of the Spirit of the Most High,

Living God.

 

I wonder that our flesh,

Doesn’t perish.

I wonder that we don’t melt,

From the glory inside.

 

This,

Another miracle.

That human dirt,

Could hold the Most High God.

And the whole thing is so holy,

I can barely touch my own skin,

Without trembling. 

 

And I wonder,

Do we know the Living God,

Breathing so close to our skin?

Do we tingle at His nearness?

See His image even in the dirt?

 

Do we wonder at this God,

And who He really is?

Do we gaze into His depths,

And then tremble,

That He is inside of us,

And breathing grace all around us?

 

I wonder,

Have we ever gazed into His depths?

And if we haven’t,

How, O how can we possibly live?

 

To see You,

Is to truly live.

And what else is there,

But to know You?

 

O, for always,

One more glimpse of You! 

For this,

And nothing else,

Is my life!

 

Son of God,

You are so much deeper than I know,

And so much deeper than my words,

Can reach.

 

I have peered into the depths of You today,

And it’s undone me.

Standing there by the edge of the pool,

I’ve fallen to my knees,

And wept for the depth and the beauty,

Of the sight.

 

Your beauty is so wonderful,

It wounds me.

And it hurts me to look at You,

You are so good.

 

You show me what goodness,

Really is.

And You teach me the meaning,

Of such words as good,

By showing me the depths,

Of Your nature inside.

 

I look,

And I weep.

And I’m broken inside for the beauty,

And my soul is ripped open,

As You redefine what is good,

And possible,

And beautiful.

 

I’m torn open,

As the truth of reality,

Suddenly expands.

 

You tear my world open,

And You’re more beautiful,

Than I know how to take.

 

Yet I know that there is no lesser beauty,

That can ever satisfy me now.

For I’ve learned the definition,

Of beautiful.

And it is You.

 

And everything else,

Is dull to my eyes.

But I want to plunge deeper,

Though it hurts me so.

I want to plunge deeper,

Into the bottomless pool.

 

O, the depths of Your goodness!

O, the depths of Your beauty!

O, the depths of Your loveliness,

And wonder,

And splendor,

And majesty!

 

O, the depths of Your holiness,

And Your glory,

And Your wisdom,

And righteousness!

 

They are beyond searching out.

They are beyond comprehending.

The depth and glory of Your nature,

Are beyond our ability to know,

Or understand.

 

For You are limitless.

You are infinite.

You are a pool with no bottom.

A universe with no outer end.

 

We travel forever,

We dive and we fly and we sail,

And we never reach the other side.

We never even reach the middle.

For there is no middle,

Because there is no end.

And we just travel forever,

And we’ve still got just as far to go,

As when we started.

 

You are infinitely deep,

And beautiful,

And wise,

And wonderful.

 

My soul gazes into You,

And I am lost for words.

And I would be lost for hope,

Were it not for Your Spirit,

Living inside of me.

 

But the vastness of You,

Is a pool within my own soul too.

And the infiniteness of God,

Dwells in my own chest.

 

And I am one with the Living God,

And the Living God within me,

Understands Himself.

And He takes me deeper into Him,

Whom I could never comprehend. 

 

I travel roads,

I know not how I found.

I breathe in truth and understand mysteries,

Too great for me to ever know.

 

I see beauty,

My eyes should not be able to behold.

I hear the voice of the Living God,

My ears should not know how to hear.

 

Because Your Spirit lives in me. 

Because who You are,

Lives in my soul.

 

Because the bottomless nature,

And glory,

Of the Living God,

Abides in my small heart.

 

My small heart,

Holds the boundless God.

And the bottomless Spirit,

Somehow fits,

Inside my finite flesh.

 

I am a living and walking miracle.

I living, breathing mystery,

Of the Most High God.

 

And that’s the point.

 

This weight of glory,

Is poured into this frail vessel of flesh,

To show that the surpassing beauty,

And power,

And wonder,

And majesty,

Are of God,

And not of me.

 

This is the gospel.

The Almighty God,

In a vessel of flesh.

 

This is what the Son of God,

Has done,

And continues to do,

To this breathing day.

 

I breathe in the air of today,

And I wonder,

That I am so alive.

 

Alive with the Son of God.

Alive with the Spirit of God.

Alive with the Spirit of the Father.

Brought into the communion with the Trinity,

And the home of all this glory of God,

Forever.

{Selah}

 

Gushing Grace and Its Irreparable Damage

God who makes the sun rise,

And brings me another new day.

I wake this morning,

And I worship You.

 

God who chose for this day to be,

Long before it was.

God who planned and purposed this day,

Before ever there was time,

Or life in the world.

 

Long before the earth was,

You planned for this day to be.

And long before time began its breathing,

You wrote my name,

And You numbered my days.

 

And this day,

Was one of them. 

And when You looked out,

Across the expanse of eternity,

You saw this day,

And You said it was good.

 

You said yes to this day,

And You sculpted it.

Shaped and molded it into being,

By all the days that went before it.

And You are molding all the future,

By what happens here today.

 

And this day,

Which seems to my eyes,

Ordinary,

And insignificant,

Is actually bursting with purpose,

Design,

And holy.

 

God who leaves nothing to chance,

But crafts even the minutia,

Of the smallest atom,

In the infinitesimal cell,

You have filled every inch of this day,

With meaning and purpose and life.

 

It’s moving with Your breath,

And teeming with Your truth,

And it’s rich with mysteries and beauty,

Alive,

And infinitely deep. 

 

God who fills my life,

With the grace of today.

And my life is filled with this world today,

And with all the living,

That happens here.

 

My life is filled with faces,

And souls,

And moments.

My life is filled with so much living,

In so many places,

It’s bursting at the seams,

With meaning,

And purpose,

And good and holy,

Eternal.

 

God who wakes us,

And fills our lives with today.

And there’s this day that You’ve made,

And You’ve called it Today,

And You’ve given it to us,

And called it a gift,

And something important,

And laden with worth,

And significance. 

 

We cup our hands,

And we drop them into this deep pool,

Of today,

And it’s so infinitely deep.

 

We fill our hands,

And they overflow,

And the living water runs all over the side.

And we’re drenched in the eternal,

Of the temporal,

Today.

 

You fill our hearts,

And they overflow.

Running out of us,

And down our sides,

The ground around us drenches wet,

With grace.

 

We walk,

And the pool of grace within us,

Spills out all around us.

It splashes,

And streams,

And rushes out.

 

And we’re like a sink,

With the pipes burst,

And the water gushes out,

With a joyful ferocity.

And you can almost hear it laughing,

Like a giddy child,

Making a glorious mess.

 

And so Your grace just sort of,

Explodes.

And it keeps exploding.

And we’re left in the aftermath,

Of a water-damaged kitchen,

And we’re loving it.

 

We live,

Irreparably damaged,

By grace.

 

Never the same,

As we were before,

Grace saturation,

Now defines us. 

 

We explode with the overflow,

Like a burst water main,

Like a ferocious gushing,

Like a fountain welling up,

To eternal life. 

 

You are God,

And You give us this day,

And this is what You fill it with.

 

Grace like a waterfall.

Joy like an explosion.

Peace like a perfect paradise,

Where there is never evil,

Nor shortage,

Nor war.

 

You give us perfect peace.

 

The perfect peace,

Of being perfectly clean,

And perfectly known,

And perfectly near,

And perfectly loved,

By the perfect God. 

 

The perfect peace,

Of being brought near,

And being open and exposed and known,

To the all-seeing eyes,

Of the Almighty of heaven,

 

And having the One with the piercing eyes,

Wrap our souls in mercy,

And clothe our nakedness,

And declare us,

Thoroughly clean,

And accepted,

And children.

 

The perfect peace,

Of being perfectly before You,

And being perfectly known,

And accepted.

 

And now we come in,

And go out,

And find pasture.

And we live our lives,

Freely,

In the presence and the communion,

Of the Living God.

 

To be able to stand before the Living God,

And be called clean,

And loved.

What could be greater peace,

Than this?

 

Having the Living God,

As an ally and a friend.

Being in the camp,

In the very tent,

Of the one and only,

Most High God,

 

The one who commands the skies,

And the seas,

And life,

And death,

And hell.

 

What greater peace,

Can there be?

 

Knowing I am known by You,

And that I know You,

And that I need fear nothing from You,

For You accept me,

As a child,

And call my soul,

Clean,

 

What more in all the world,

Could I need,

Than this? 

 

And what have I to fear,

Knowing that the Living God,

Holds the keys,

Of Death and Hades,

And commands all the forces,

Of life on earth?

 

What could possibly,

Escape Your notice,

Or control?

 

And You are for me,

And You bend all of life,

Into Your will.

And so all that I touch,

And that touches me today,

Has passed through Your hands.

And You have chosen,

To give it to me.

 

And it has a purpose,

And a meaning,

And a holy,

Living in its veins.

 

Everything I touch,

And that touches me,

Is a holy thing.

For You are holy,

And I am holy,

And all that You give me,

Is for more holy,

And more good.

 

So what on earth,

Is there to fear?

 

Nothing,

When I confess Your name.

 

When I confess Your name,

Fear is exposed to my eyes,

For the silly and worthless thing,

It is.

 

And when I confess Your name,

I see You breathing everywhere,

And everything I touch,

Is holy. 

 

I confess Your name,

And I enter the throne room,

And I live in communion,

And I breathe in the good and true,

All around me like air.

 

You fill the world,

With glory and wisdom.

And if I will confess Your name,

I will plunge the depths,

And see Your face,

Written into the DNA,

Of all things.

 

I plunge deep enough,

And I see You written here.

And even the dirt that covers it all,

Is teeming with You.

And it’s right here for the touching,

And the seeing,

And the knowing.

 

Right here,

In front of my face,

Miracles of You.

 

And all my life I’ve lived among them,

And my very skin is made of holy dirt,

And why don’t I tremble,

At the nearness of Your presence?

 

As close as my own skin,

And the breathing in my lungs.

You whisper like the wind in my ears,

And I stop to consider it all,

And You come up on me fast,

Like a strong, sure friend,

Lying in wait,

To pummel me,

With a running bear hug,

Coming up from behind.

 

I stop and listen to the whisper,

And before I know it,

I’m thrust into a violent embrace,

Of exuberant grace.

And my heart leaps out of my chest,

With a vehement joy. 

 

God who fills my life,

With today.

What more could You give me,

Than this?

 

And how much grace,

And how much holy,

And how much fullness of heaven,

Is waiting for me in everyday,

And I miss it,

For my closed eyes.

 

Godliness with contentment,

Is great gain.

And how can you want for anything,

When every new day,

You get the High King of heaven,

And all His grace lavished,

Like an ever-flowing fountain?

 

And I think,

If we would just confess,

Who You are,

And what You’ve given,

Right here,

Contentment would be,

The only natural fruit.

 

When God gives you heaven,

Poured out on Your head,

Like a drenching downpour,

And when the Living God,

Brings you right into His Holy of Holies,

And calls you clean and loved,

How do you want for anything else?

 

When you have peace,

With the High King of heaven,

And you’re known and accepted and loved,

And every detail of your life,

Is planned out for good and holy,

How can you want,

For anything?

 

Right now,

Is holy.

And right here,

Is full,

And overflowing.

 

And what would happen to us,

And our world,

If we would learn,

To confess the fountain right here,

And just cup our hands,

And drink?

 

What would happen to our souls,

And to our world,

If Your children,

Would just know You,

And drink You in?

 

And if we were saturated,

And overflowing,

With the Most High God,

What would life,

All around us,

Begin to grow like?

 

How green,

And how fruitful,

Would our world,

Be?

{Selah}