I am tired

of waiting.

No longer

am I content

to be still and know

When You also say,

Go

and make nations.

In this world

rages the fiercest battle-

but somehow

I almost forgot-

this Faith

is supposed to be dangerous.

In this world, I am comfortable.

But this world is not my Home.

In this world,

I am coral in a dying ocean.

(drown me in You)

I am a battered wall in a ransacked village.

(restore me)

(make me stronger than before)

I am charred remains and

I am a sojourner and

I am a leper

a pharisee

a tax collector

A legal witness to the Power

of the Lord

in my Life.

Lord,

I am tired of waiting.

In this life,

I am prideful.

Tatter my robes

take my morning coffee

make my eyes puffy

from tears or lack of sleep (only You offer rest)

until my voice is scratchy

and my mind flimsy.

In this life,

this shanty

parading as a mansion,

do not

just make me a candle.

Knock me down

Burn me through and through

and then

Grow flowers from my ashen palms.

Teach my parched lips

to cry for more.

For I have nothing to offer

of my own merit but

You can fix that.

Teach me to reflect

but not to neglect-

Teach me to hear,

teach me then to heed.

Teach me-

My parched lips

Cry out for more.