| For His Glory |
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Thats the title of the poem I'm gonna type in a second.
I was touched by the Spirit of God during and after Gary Wilson spoke yesterday. There was a time in my life when creativity flowed through my veins. I had quite an imagination. I was pretty good at writing funny stories, or dramatic short stories, poetry. I had a natural knack for writing that all my writing teachers in highschool praised. I took clay 1-4(or 5 i don't remember) and loved every second of it, and excelled in it. I took graphic design 1 and 2 and maybe 3. I also took photography. And I was a swim instructor, so I had to be creative to keep the attention of small children in a pool. (So fun!) All that was in highschool. After highschool I pretty much laid all of that down. Something in me decided none of those things couldn't be used by me to advance God's kingdom. They were all pointless. Something else in me (I had a divided heart) yearned to continue doing all those things. Yesterday when I was sitting in "The River" I saw a picture of myself like bound and gagged. (Heather does this sound familiar?) I felt so frustrated. God reminded me of a word that He has spoken through Heather Brown. I am going to burst forth. So I'm excited about that. I decided to share a poem I wrote close to two years ago. And soon I will write a brand new poem and share it, too. I don't want to live in the glory of the past.
Anyways, here it is.
For His Glory 11-15-2007
By the darkness of night I hide from
Your sight
I clothe myself in garments of sin
A faded, stained, brownish hue
Tar on my hands
Spreads like gangrene
Infecting
Relationships...
Family
Friends
Divides me and my God
I've been stolen from
Nearly killed when I was beaten
The enemy is destroying me
Life abundant - have I forsaken
I'm waiting for the chains to fall
Crying to be free
God, You have to hear me
Your ear is not deaf
Your eyes not blind
The blood of my Savior, Christ
Drips like oil from
The crown of my head
Down, down, down
Changes my thoughts
Softens my heart
Makes my limbs weapons of righteousness
Down, down to my very roots
Six feet beneathe the crust of the earth
Where I have made my bed
Air fills my lungs
Breath of life breathed into my nostrils
Immanuel, died, resurrected
Conquered my enemy
So I could hear the voice of my God
Behold, I do a new thing! |
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