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Dress down your pretty faith. |
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Give me something real. |
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Leave out the thee and thou and speak to me now. |
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Speak to my pain and confusion. |
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Speak through my fears and my pride. |
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Speak to the part of me that knows |
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I'm something deep down inside. |
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I know that |
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I am not perfect, but compare me to most, |
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In a world of hurt and a world of anger |
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I think I'm holding my own. |
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And I know that you said there is more to life. |
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And I know |
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I am not satisfied. |
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But there are mornings |
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I wake up and |
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I'm just thankful to be alive. |
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I've known now, for quite a while, that |
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I am not whole. |
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I've remembered the body and the mind, |
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But disected my soul. |
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Now something inside is awakening, |
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Like a dream |
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I once had and forgot. |
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And it's something |
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I'm scared of |
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And something |
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I don't want to stop. |
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And I woke up this morning and realized that |
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Jesus is not a portait. |
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Where stained glass windows or hymns or the tradition that surrounds us. |
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And I thought it would be hard to believe in |
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But it's not hard at all. |
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To believe |
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I've sinned and fallen short of the |
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Glory of God. |
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And He's not asking me to change in my joy for martyrdom |
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He's asking to take my place. |
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To stand in the gap that |
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I have formed |
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With His real, and |
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His sweet, and |
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His real amazing grace. |
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And it's not just a sign or a sacrament. |
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It's not just a metaphor for love. |
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The blood is real and it's not just a sybol of your faith. |
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So leave out the thee and thou and speak now. |
