Skip to main content

Worship

You deserve a symphony of the highest calibre.
You deserve the serenade of the most talented of musicians.
You deserve the tunes of the finest orchestra that man can muster.
You deserve the notes of the most exquisite of songbirds.
You deserve a backdrop of towering mountains, roaring oceans and the uncontainable glitter of the milky way. 
You deserve the most expensive and rarest of earth’s offerings.
You deserve the most talented of orators.
You deserve armies of adoration marching in disciplined unison.
You deserve the company of 1000 kings. 
So why do you notice my warbled song?
Why do you care about my frenzied dance?
Why do you accept the notes of my unsophisticated talents?
Why do you long for my upraised voice?
Why do you seek out my uttered prayer?
Why do you crave my humble company?
Why do you tolerate my divided love?
Why do you woo me until my devotion is complete?
Why do you permit me to come so close, to you?
Why do you permit me to express my unfiltered emotions in your presence?
Why do you allow me to bring my brokenness and scars before your perfection?
Why do you allow me to pour my pitiful offering at your feet?
Why do you invite me to your overflowing table, bursting with provision, and jealously guard a seat just for me? 
How can I ever fathom your love; so tenacious and powerful as to compel you to leave the exalted position of your glory and adoration… 
…to die in my place?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Great Exchange

I had walked past that shop many times. Flickers of curiosity had been quenched by apathy, worry or distraction. Today for some reason, I stopped. The sign outside stated in clear and daring letters “The Great Exchange”. My eyes travelled down to a notice underneath. “ I want all your junk.   Bring the worst that you have. In exchange, I will give you my life ”. It was such a strange concept. I had heard of the man who ran the shop inside. Some people said he was an imposter. Some people said he was crazy. Some people said he was a myth; that he didn’t really exist. They said he had holes in his hands, and scars on his body. Whoever he was, he was surely an enigma. Maybe he was dangerous? Why did he want this junk anyway? And could it really be true? I mean, it sounded just too good to be true… There must be some sort of catch. If there was anything I had learned in life, it’s that you can’t trust anyone these days. Walking away I dismissed this mystery pawn man from my ...
2 comments
Read more

What's so offensive about grace?

  There’s just something about grace. It’s beautiful, it’s free and somehow, it’s altogether offensive. Have you ever struggled with the “I’m not good enough” plague upon your mind? Or perhaps: “I’m not doing enough/ achieving enough”. Or maybe it’s that roundabout guilt from past sins that rises and ebbs at times, but never seems to disappear? Paradoxically, these thought patterns can sometimes stem from pride. A pride that fails to understand the free gift of grace offered to us by God. A pride that teaches that we still somehow need to earn our salvation, or God’s forgiveness. A pride that deceives us into believing that we are somehow capable of earning it.   But isn’t it by faith we have been saved? So can’t we take pride in our faith? The Bible tells us that no one can come to the Father unless He draws them. Despite our multiple attempts to prove the opposite, we are irretrievably wholesale products of the breath-taking and incomprehensible grace of God.   ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Slave Market

  I had known for some time that this day would come. I woke that morning with a heavy heart, half hoping for a moment that my dream had been reality and my waking a dream. My reality was so much worse than any nightmare my mind could fabricate. Today was the last day of my freedom. Well, perhaps it would be more correct to say, that today would be the last of any semblance of self-independence. Today I would be escorted to the old courthouse in the centre of the city. I would attend the dreaded courtroom 99, known colloquially as ‘The Slave Market’. I would leave the courthouse, in the company of a new master. I would have been bought by one of my creditors. I would be his slave. The only uncertain thing about this entire process was who would claim me. All of my creditors had a good case in law and fact against me. And I could not afford to repay a single one.    I had pawned everything I owned in the hopes of repaying my debt. Last week, I had made the tragic journey t...
Post a Comment
Read more