Prayer

  Again

  Baptism of Fire

Prayer

Today I flipped my calender
yeah, it's just another day
But you'd think that by this time
I'd have learned to pray.

Just when I think I have it all
and feel you in my heart
Something else gets in the way
and pushes us apart.

It would be easy to blame You
but its all my fault, I know
'Cause I'm just a weak little child
Who won't open up and grow.

Oh, won't you please hold my heart  in Your hands
and help me forget all my earthly plans?
I know I'm selfish and it makes me sad
I want to be reminded of what I once had.
I want to be Yours, full and complete
No more looking for life on the street
No more light brushes with what is not right
No more lampshade to cover my light
No more sin that I cannot hide
No more fake, self-righteous pride
No more doubting what I know is true
only my eyes kept firmly on You.

Dear Jesus, please forgive me
for grieving your tender heart.
I know that now it's up to me
'cause You've shown me where to start.

Again

This morning I gave birth
to myself, again. 

I slid out, crying, still dressed in last night's clothes
amid the tangled blankets of my bed
and the late rays of sun poking through
the tired blinds.

I saw myself;
those closed eyes and tiny fingertips.

I heard my heart rolling like a small marble
in a treasure chest. I felt it bang
against the wooden walls of my body
and back again.

I offered it up to You,
clear and hard, like so many times before;
a form of blood and mud and breath and sin
split out of yesterday's skin,
and I said,

Let her live if you want."

You said,

                    --"My Daughter!"

Baptism of Fire

I'm a weak piece of unfired pottery
sitting on a dusty shelf
absolutely unremarkable
easily breakable
and staunchly unmoving.

I look strong enough on the outside
but I know that if I were ever
to be set in the Storm,
I would dissolve--be pounded
into oblivion.

Day after day I sit on the shelf,
hoping--yet fearing--
that the Potter will take me down and finish me.
I cringe a little, and hide my face
each time He passes by me;
but I'm secretly jealous of each pot that gets chosen.

He lovingly handles each one,
gently blows the dust off them
and covers them with strange-looking glazes.
When He is done with them, they are
hardened, with streaks of color that were never there before.

They are strong and shining now,
those pots
that have been through the fire.

Words from the Author: I hope these little poems encourage you to keep coming back to the Lord, even when you don't feel worthy of Him.  I wrote these when I was 18 or 19 and struggling to give my whole life to the Lord.  Though I am past that age now (I'm 27) and have made it through those struggles, these poems remind me not to forget all the Lord brought me through and His faithfulness to me even when I was faithless to Him.  In my 20's, He picked me up off of the shelf of my fears and insecurities and immersed me in the holy fire of His love.  When I came from that furnace of deep pain and joy and loss and gain, I was changed--forever!

He has a fire waiting for you too.  Are you willing to enter it?   It is the doorway into everlasting life!