Coming Home ?

"I was wounded."
"There is this issue that keeps coming up."
"I went through counseling, but it's still a work in progress."

I have uttered all of these or similar phrases - especially in the recent months. I have walked around with a wound in my foot, uncertain of what freedom looks like and after the years the limp seems normal. Freedom sounds more like a myth; dancing a nightmarish task - better to stay "a work in progress". This last week has brought a lot of these internal struggles to head. From anxiety, to tears I have said these phrases much more often and began to wonder what they meant.

"I was wounded."

Wounded by what? Was it terminal? Will the mark fade, or is the limp permanent? Why was I wounded? Are we all wounded? How does this wound affect me? Is this wound preventing my freedom? Have I actually been walking in freedom, but just not willing to take on the level of responsibility freedom has?

Let me say that last part again, but in a different way.

A child longs for freedom, the ability to make their own choices and direct their own life. But honestly, who is going to let their four year old free to roam in a city of a few million people? That would be reckless and your child would be taken away from your for such irresponsibility. In order to allow a child the freedom the desire, they have to show the capacity to carry its weight. To sound cheesy - Freedom is not free. Rather it demands that the child is no longer a child, but rather an individual able to handle making tough decisions, using discernment, common sense and have the knowledge necessary to decide.

While we all may say "I want to be free", to be free is to leave the confines of our parent; their protection, their immediate supervision and counsel. They are ever accessible but the weight of life is on our own shoulders. I wonder then, if in the process of being wounded that being sheltered from the crazy of the world did not become more enticing than freedom? After the imago Dei has been marred, who really wants to put ourselves back out there? I believe we are given time to heal, but the problem is many of us stay in hospice though we have made a full recovery. Imagine being fed, sheltered, entertained, and cared for without ever having to make an effort, never having to take a risk? Us wounded ones find this option wonderfully inviting.

After years of staying in recovery, we can begin to believe we will never be more than what we were - a wounded broken soul. We have built our lives around the wound - our friendships, our hobbies, our relationships (even those most intimate), our view of God, our way of worship, how we breath is shaped around that gaping hole. But once the hole is filled, are we really willing to reframe our life? Restructuring our world to a new way of being, that cannot be pre-wound nor like in recovery?

This has been mulling around in my heart, and my head. Pushing its way through the dusty hallways of my soul, shedding light on my own weaknesses. At the same time another melody has been playing. I am a singer, my life revolves around music. I hear life through various notes and keys. As I have been struggling with 'being wounded' I have heard this song play over, and over, and over in my head. It is as though God Himself is singing the song - drawing me to Him. Seeking me out in the midst of the chaos to remind me of Himself. Yes, I've been wounded. I've walked with a limp for far too long. But as I step forth out of the darkness I hope to come face to face with the Light and let Truth flood this heart once again. This is the beginning of something, and I look forward to running Home.
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I am the Lord your God, I go before you now
I stand beside you, I'm all around you
Though you feel I'm far away, I'm closer than your breath
I am with you, more than you know

I am the Lord your peace, no evil will conquer you
Steady now your heart and mind, come into My rest
Oh, let your faith arise, lift up your weary head
I am with you wherever you go

Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm everything
Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm your everything

I am your anchor, in the wind and the waves
I am your steadfast, so don't be afraid
Though your heart and flesh may fail you, I'm your faithful strength
I am with you wherever you go

Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm your everything
Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm your everything

Don't look to the right or to the left but keep your eyes on Me
You will not be shaken, you will not be moved ooh
I am the hand to hold, I am the truth, I am the way
Just come to Me, come to Me, cause I'm all that you need

http://youtu.be/sY0Vz8fvIhE

Reminders of Failure

I keep a picture of a friend above my stove. I put her face there, hoping it would remind me to pray for her, to call her regularly, and keep up a friendship with her lost soul.

I set an alarm in my phone, that goes off everyday reminding me to pray for my best friend's daughter. I realized that while my friend may not change her life, her daughter is just beginning it so my daily prayer for her could change something.

Instead of praying after seeing my friend's face - I cringe and try to not look at the stove because of the depth of guilt I feel for not calling her.

Instead of stopping and praying at the alarm, I put it on snooze and forget. The next time I silence it, and feel guilty after a few days so I pray a quick prayer at some point in the day to make up for my slackerness.

I have a stack of books to the right of my futon, and a couple journals. There is dust on all of them.

The spiritual and practical 'to do list' is longer than the day, and as every evening comes I feel the weight of a day unfinished, tasks left undone.
________________________________________________

Ask any coworker, any boss, ask my parents, my friends, my husband, my daughter - follow through is my failure. Everyday I face mirrors of these failures - reminders of my shortcomings and the reflections are sometimes too much to handle.

Yet I am also reminded by how many times I am affirmed, how often people talk about my quality of work, compliment the job well done. It's funny - when you don't let words hurt you, they tend to not help you either. Or put another, more personal way - perhaps I don't lack confidence just in God like I always presumed, maybe I lack confidence in me too. If I think about it, the lack I see in me I project into God - assuming my shortcomings will be His and my failures restricting His success.

You can laugh at those ideas, but when one truly believes anything even the most twisted lie becomes truth.
______________________________________________

Maybe you're right
And I'm not as certain as I thought
Maybe I'm wrong
And it's not as bad as I saw
Maybe it's fine
And we need to begin to hear

Open these ears
To know the melodies of truth
Break open the skies
Letting the light mold our eyes
Catch the tears
Of the thousands unsaid prayers

Maybe we fell
And thought we'd never get up again
Maybe they failed
And broke our hearts in the process
Maybe our souls
can be mended to sing again

I am so self-absorbed
Self obsessed
Self sustained
A one person circus
A one man band
A one member Body
A self contained church

Yet we long for approval
For affirmation
For home
For a friend

We are all searching for acceptance
A safe haven to rest our hearts
Laying it all on the line with everyone else
I don't doubt it can happen
But sometimes wonder where it is

Maybe You're right
And it starts with love and obedience
Maybe I'm made right
Not a mistake needing to be something else
Maybe the person of Truth
Is waiting to make it all right again?

God break down these towers
The lies that You are not enough
That You are not able
That You don't want my best
Break my heart and let the waters flow 
Over the fields of rejection
Putting out the flames of fame & recognition
Let the waters flood these barren hearts
Then maybe healing will begin
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Remember Me

"Tending to manifest or express one's feelings easily or unreservedly."

That is what I am typically - demonstrative. There were many years I expressed myself unreserved, forgoing context and social timing. After several painful experiences I tried to reign in this 'outbursts' - I put that which I didn't hold to be demigods. Restraint. Social timing. Context. Expectation. The rules of propriety that I often saw manifest in my dad's side of the family - would slowly overtake most of my life.

I believe you can know restraint in a healthy manner. But I also know for those 'obsessive' personalities, those that live in all-or-nothing realities - balance is hard, and seems often impossible. Instead of being a balanced individual I became controlling, and hardened to the most intimate of relationships. I put social timing over the well-being of another; restraint over reaching out in love; context over fleshing out necessary wounds; expectation over everything else. Even as I type it is hard to not put some of those on a higher pedestal than the others.

Living as my own solitary individual would allow me more space for duality. But living in intimate community with others (family, church etc.) doesn't afford such individualistic luxuries.

My husband has often said that after we got married I changed. The young passionate spiritual lady he knew was lost - and another person came in her stead.
I could list the lengthy reasons why I think that changed.
I was 18, in a matter of a year I would live in two countries, 2 states, 4 homes, find out I was pregnant, have all my earthly possessions stolen (except two suitcases), enroll in college, move away from family, and spend 364 days with a man I knew barely over a year.
Those are just the external realities - not mentioning the deep, lengthy spiritual and emotional turbulence that would accompany all of those changes. Looking back I know those drastic changes would allow Phil and I to grow closer, to know our stuff and be able to withstand the less glorious years to come. We all change, but as a Christian we should be moving forward not reversing as it seemed to my husband I was doing.

I can honestly say now I am a much more whole person that I ever was before. I lived in a state of demoniac-like conflict - a mind that was constantly double-minded. I wrote in my journals that I just wanted to be okay, that I would hold onto hope that okay would come. I was spiritual, I prayed, felt an intimacy with the Lord; I wasn't as irritable, or easily frustrated - though I could have a temper. I struggled SO strongly with authority, and submission - to the point where none of those words were allowed in my vows. (A decision we still hold to, but would have liked to have a better motive than my authority issues.) But I loved the Lord; I felt that I knew Him. I could be in His presence so easily. Whether it was an age thing or a different season in life or something, regardless I find being with God is much harder now. I have to fight to not fall asleep, I don't feel Him like I used to. Often I feel He is a stranger that I trust but don't know.

I always wanted to be one of those prayer warriors, like from Kansas City's IHOP or one of those individuals that could feel Jesus. They acted as though He was their best friend - not in some cheesy literature but in a real and meaningful way. I always knew God - head knowledge. I loved diving into Scripture taking apart the Greek and Hebrew in my Strong's concordance, journaling my theories to which translation of the word was best. The Scriptures felt alive, I'd pray and a verse would fall into my hands and it spoke to me or those I loved beautifully. I read through the Bible several times, it wasn't a struggle, I enjoyed it. But at night the dark scared me, and sometimes I'd just have to say Jesus over and over to fight the lurking darkness I felt creep around the corners of my room. Thankfully I always had my trusty Labrador Bliss - she was my nighttime companion. Even as her black fur would ruin most of my furniture and carpet, having her near made the dark not quite as terrifying.

I think in the transition from singlehood to married life I made my spouse my everything. Phil unwittingly became my parents, my sisters, my puppy, my friend, my husband and my 'god' - a role no one could fill but I subliminally expected him too. When our sins manifested months into our marriage - unresolved anger issues, hurt and injury from family members, lack of self-control, self-worth issues - well that mirage of 'he would be my everything' slowly faded and bitterness took its place. I never planned on getting married, so I certainly didn't prepare for it, a couple sessions premarital counseling with my father-in-law helped see the vast differences but did little more. I don't think it could have. I was stubborn - we knew we wanted to get married and our parents did the best thing they could: offer as much support as possible, challenging us, helping us and blessing us (I know they must have been praying too).

Not everyone has a crisis of faith because of marriage - I certainly did. My husband wasn't the embodiment that I knew he could be. The vision of the future-Phil was not lived in the present and I resented him for it. But really it was me - I didn't know how to work God into my life anymore. If I didn't desperately need Him, well then how did He fit? If I was finally okay, but not happy where does that leave God and I?

I am a good person. As people go I try hard to care, work hard, serve, give and be the light. Internally I have struggled to share my heart. I was such a demonstrative person, and with it I was injured. In turn I took my spiritual side and hide it in a closet in the basement of my heart. No one could know my struggles - even God wasn't always privy. I often felt like the prodigal son, I wanted to make myself clean, good and presentable before going to God. But we all know this world has us stained, and only the washing of the blood and the constant foot washing will cleanse us from the dirt - both of which require coming to the Son first not after.

I say all that to say this - remember who you are. God formed you, molded you and knew you long before the world did. I think of some of my sisters who has lived two decades hearing their identity told to them rather than given to them by the King. I remember my husband whose sense of spirituality often felt misunderstood, his strong empathetic and discerning nature often judged by those who didn't understand. I don't know what you've molded yourself to now - if you are like me after so many chameleon changes it's hard to remember what we were before. But I know this, don't give up. It's hard, it's uncomfortable and the timing is not what we'd want - but the you that God made is there somewhere inside. We have to run to the Father in order to know ourselves. Sometimes it's sitting in silence, others it’s breaking the wall through songs and shouts, it is writing, it is reading, it is communing and getting to know God. There is no formula; rather it is an experiment and a constant change that allows us to know the parts of this magnificent God who calls us daughters and sons. He isn't a mystery to avoid relationship - He enters into relationship to let us partake in the mystery. When this mundane world comes tightly in and you feel your spirit suffocating - let go of the molds you have made, let God reveal who you are through who He is. Like a wonderful pastor and author recently wrote - find that moment where you were you before the cares and fears of this world trampled on you.* For him it was riding a bicycle as child where his imaginative could run free and his spirits held no burden, for many others it’s in a relationship, an outside adventure, a single moment or a continues occasion. Regardless of when or how - let God form you into who you really are. Be demonstrative with God - express yourself unreservedly and He will meet you.

You have been and You will be

You have seen and You will see

You know when I rise and when I fall

When I come or go You see it all

You hung the stars and you move the sea, and still You know me

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh You know me (repeat)

Nothing is hidden from Your sight Wherever I go, You find me

You know every detail of my life You are God and You

don't miss a thing

You memorize me

*(Protoype by Jonathan Martin printed by Tyndale Publishers available in book and e-book everywhere)

The Body - Ecumenical Conversations in Movements

Jesus -
What are you doing?
And why are you doing it?
Why does the hand not even see the foot?
Or the ear not acknowledge the knee?
How do we operate with such blind assurance?
Confident and true, but incomplete;
it seems the Body is never one.

How can we belittle an act of God?
Don't we know the wise things of this world will be made foolish?
Can't we see that great work our brother is doing?
Even it is unfamiliar and foreign,
will I say they are against You
as the cast out demons in Your name?
When did we get here?
Assured in our place.

I stand as though atop a wall,
seeing to the left and to the right.
Both true,
both beautiful,
both right,
yet neither are complete.
Oh God, in Your majesty,
How can we can we confine You?
In the midst of Your splendor,
how can understand You?

Stretch me,
pull me,
let these questions mull around in my heart.
But Jesus,
Don't answer.
Let me stand on this wall
Between the divisions,
attempting unity.
Trying love.
Seeking peace.
One Body.
Jesus,
I can't stand alone -
one can fall and die.
With two, they can stand up.
Oh Lord but with three,
that cord shall not easily break.

Let me dance along the bridges,
singing songs of unity between us.
Painting the tapestry of diversity;
breathing in the majesty of color.
Gold dust, to footwashing;
Languages known and unknown.
Breaking bread with the wise & the fool,
drinking the juice of the vine with the misunderstood.
Let me stand along these walls,
in the in between -
I see You more clearly here.
Your world is so much bigger than my eyes can see -
Let me fly into the largeness of You,
growing more amazed, more diverse, as love overflowing
in the midst of this diverse community.
For this is Your Body,
this is Your Cup -
bridging the gaps so we can stand together,
Dancing this dance of unity and love
Until we are one as You are One.

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This is not a judgement, but a song out of my heart to my Father. I have never been a committed member of a movement, denomination, or church. I know I need growth, as I lack maturity in commitment, in persistence. As a family we moved around, seeking community wherever it would be found. In the midst of discussions on the Body and community especially through Wesleyan Pentecostal Holiness lens, it seemed as though we are standing apart. I have an incomplete vision of Christ, of the Body, of the Trinity, of God - and I know this. I don't want to let pride prevent me from knowing God. I've been a mere step above a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. Yet I can't help but see a Body so diverse, while we are so blind to the beauty of Spirit's work. Where bonds of unity could grow and give strength - we stay to the streams of ecumenical work that 'make sense' through denominations and traditions that have lasted hundreds of years. But what about the new movements, the groups that have yet to grow a understandable structure and yet are changing their neighborhoods, their cities, parts of the world without us even knowing it? There is so much more to the conversation than what we know right now, and perhaps are even comfortable with. But isn't that the beauty of Creation? All the good, all the right, all the true, all the aspects of the imago Dei formed into one Body that reaches across every human boundary? That is a love the world can't replicate, can't understand and so desperately want - they don't need more walls dividing us, but a love that reaches beyond commonalities to a spiritual tie that withstands all storms. They need the Body of Christ, in all her forms, broken and true as she become more and more the unified Bride.

Community green

I've been listening to Dr. Chris Green and his sermon about community. It's always a bit wonderful, joyous, frustrating and affirming when someone preaches a sermon, or teaches a teaching that is what you know but couldn't articulate nearly as beautiful. Their speech is for many something new and radical, and yet for you it is something that you've struggled to live out, yet never could scriptural base as well.
Community is hard when you look different, act odd, and don't like social gatherings. Especially when the people who are supposed to make up that community judge what you look like, disdain your hobbies, and don't make an initiative to say anything to you. I never had that problem. I am and have been a chameleon, and I also love the center stage. I didn't follow the 'wrong' things but the 'superficial' things of life like hobbies, and activities changed based on the social group. The problem I often found with this was that without people I am nothing, if I didn't love to read I would have been an empty shell of a person.
But I am married to someone whose entire life has been judged by the outward appearance which equated self-loathing and condemnation. As he has grown out of the self-focus, he has grown acutaly aware that he is a created being that God formed with purpose. Why should we hide or change or lie about who we are, when it supresses the gifts and callings our Creator gave us?
Community is not homogenous, all dressed the same, acting the same - that is gathering of clones, not a diverse expression of the Creator.
We need the broken, the narrow, the dense, or as Green said we need the walls and the donkeys to save us from our own foolishness. To show us how wrong we were, to break our stubborn selves.
But honestly what do you do, when there seems to be no one?
What if no one sees you? Reaches out to you? If no one corrects you or affirms you how can you change or stay the same?
Like a friend of mine mentioned recently, community in the New Testament was always an extension to the stranger. It wasn't a homogenous meeting of like-minded friends - it was a gathering of a family who had been given a new citizenship and this could welcome any into their community.
If only we would be willing to be as open, as vulnerable, as accessible then perhaps we'd find community to be that diverse body that reaches out to the fragmented, the outcast, the estranged, and the strange.

Wary or Weary

I'm fasting from social media for the next couple of days. I know many people are fine checking Facebook and Twitter regularly but I have found I substitute for everything else in life - prayer, conversation, reading, cleaning, school, name it I will be on twitter rather than engaging in it.

I feel a weight in my chest. Actually I feel it more in my gut, as there is an ache in my heart that prevents its engagement. This weight is heavy - full of uncertainty, fear, lethargy, and desire. The desire burns deep but the waters of uncertainty begin to overtake, and with the rains of fear pouring down the sublime creature of lethargy takes desires place. There can be no heartbreak if there is no heart to break.

I want to move on. So very desperately I want to seize what lays before me - a truth, a life, a dream that is almost and not yet. Yet I feel a deep and subtle hesitation. It pulls me back, like a paddleball I feel free for a sheer moment before being pulled back to into place.
However even deeper than my desire to move on is the commitment to not have regrets by leaving too early. Having gone through a few situations where I had to come back later and 'relive' it in order to move on - I certainly don't want to do that here.

I feel a pull, an internal conflict, and either party may win. Deep inside I don't want to return. For many it's just a job, for me it's been my life - what I pray about, think about, dream about, stress about, regret, love, where I've found admiration and approval daily. In some crass way to leave is similar to getting a divorce - the change is final and there is no going back, the relationship is cutoff and you have to move on. I think about it - really knowing all the problems, stresses, and sheer amount of energy that goes into a semester and my body goes into slight panic. I'm too tired, too worn, I'm weary of the continuing.

Yet I'm wary of moving forward. I know the grass isn't greener - maybe a different hue but it's the same grass. We can try to fool ourselves and believe that switching jobs, majors and churches will magically make everything better - but in reality it doesn't. The exception of course being the Voice of God. If God tells you to go and you don't - things simply get worse and you miss a 'greener grass'. If you follows God's voice the grass is greener simply for the obedience and confidence gained from obeying His voice. It still has it's trials, but you have the Everlasting Arms to lean on, to keep you going as you pursue His will.

But what do you do when it feels like He is silent? Do you stay or do you go?

Perseverance is not my forte. Is it really anybodies? I am a persistent sort, but I am also used to working hard for a prize I tangibly receive. I talk to my sister about this regularly - we work hard and find favor in our work, it's not that we sit around it's a hard earned favor, but still it's beyond even our abilities often times. I've seen many changes occur in my job, and when it seemed I reach the culmination of the hard work - the reason for the hours, the tears, the joys, everything - it was pulled away as quickly as it came. If status and power wasn't going to be my pinnacle, what would be?

As Christian we are often told to shy away from such words as status and power; it's a pride of this world, a self-absorption that gives only you honor rather than the Creator. But what do you do as Christian, when you are working in a system where without those badges you are unable to speak, to move, to be much of anything. That at the end of the day without power to bring change you are simply another pawn in the scheme of the machine?

I know at this point there should be a story. A revelation of the martyrs, the saints of past and present that worked in governments and systems that hindered their faith and yet they brought revolution, transformation and love. My cynical response yells that they didn't fight systems that pretended to be something it isn't. That it's different when you serve three masters, all of which have differing standards and all you want to do at the end of the day is ask why is it this way? Again I say, for many it's just a job, for me it's everything I given my life for the last three years, and I can't simply clock in/clock out unless the Lord Almighty gives me strength to do so.

I know it's silly, but as I wrote I had three words pressed into my head - Ezekiel, China, Missionary. So I did what any good Pentecostal person should do, I Googled those three words together. The first result was this: The Cat's-Paw. It's a 1934 comedy film that used sound in a thriving silent film era.

Ezekiel Cobb, a naive young man raised by missionaries in China, is sent to the United States to seek a wife. He is promptly enlisted by the corrupt political machine of the city led by the corrupt boss to run for mayor as phony "reform" politician. He is expected to be the "cat's paw" of the political machine. Cobb unexpectedly takes his job seriously. He embarks on a campaign to clean his town of its corrupt political machine. Fighting back, the corrupt politicians frame Cobb. He turns the table on them, however, by enlisting the help of his friends in the local Chinese community. They end up using tricks of illusion to gain the support of the political machine again. Then town is swept of its corruption.

Stories remind us of truths that our hardheaded hearts would not otherwise hear. 

I don't know, and I need to know. It's hard for me to say, "Thy will be done", I don't want to stay. But I don't want to leave either, and therein lies the juxtaposition. While God can speak through a donkey, He can't answer our heart's knocking if we keep running back and forth between doors.

I just imagine a cartoon version of myself knocking at a large door then changing my mind so I begin running down a long hall to another door to knock. As soon as I walk away from the first door, God open's it for me to look inside but I've already changed my mind so He hears the knock at the other door, closing the first to answer the second. But as soon as I knock on the second I change my mind just as quickly and run back to the first; though God just opened the door to the second after I ran away. I see this play out dozens if not hundreds of times - all the while my little cartoon version of myself grows more weary with each run, and God longingly wanting to offer His Shalom to my aching body. I want to change the town, fight the political corruption, turn the manipulation on it's head and save everyone in it's overturn. But I feel I am merely a puppet, unable to make much movement, restrained by the strings of the system.

Or perhaps the strings are merely show? That really they are not tied to anything at all, and instead the restriction is self-made, self-induced into believing God isn't big enough to change this place? Perhaps the problem isn't in the system, but in the belief that the system is the evil rather than the enemy of our souls causing chaos and darkness in order to shroud the light? Maybe God is able to make the weak strong, the fearful brave, and the wretched new - even in the midst of corruption?

I hope to change
The tired and 
Same state I'm in
I hope to face
What lies in front of me
I won't turn back

Tonight we fight 
The battle at our sides
Don't close your eyes
Tonight we fight 
The darkness in the skies

I'm going in
Try and stop me (x2)

I hope to break
Through this barricade
Of skin and bone
And I'm not afraid
To face the foreign arms
I'll fire back

Tonight we fight 
The battle at our sides
Don't close your eyes
Tonight we fight 
The darkness in the skies

I'm going in

Try and stop me (x4)
(I'm Going In by Autumn Film)

I don't know the answer, this is just the beginning of the questions. But at least I know the enemy I fight, rather than the puppets he uses - I fight not against flesh and blood by principalities and powers of the dark. I serve the King of Light and the darkness will not prevail in the midst of His glory. 

I don't feel

"He preserves the souls of His saints;

He delivers them out of the hand of the wicked.

Light is sown for the righteous,

and gladness for the upright in heart.

Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous

and give thanks at the remembrance of His name. "

Psalms 97:10-12

I don't feel preserved

Delivered,

Lighted

Glad

I don't remember

Let everything change.

If it doesn't, I'm not sure I'll make it.

I won't give up, but my heart may stop beating,

And the breaths may slow.

Don't tarry

I may die if You do.

I can hold on,

I can believe.

But You see the one,

the lost,

the broken,

the rejected,

the one misunderstood by so many....

Jesus! SPEAK!

Isn't Your child worth a voice?

A whisper would help them stand,

but silence is all that is heard.

I can believe,

because I can remember.

But blessed Savior be faithful,

to the ones who have yet heard.

Who have yet to see, Jesus be true.

Let Your Spirit come, Jesus please....

Why tarry anymore?

Why withhold? 

It hurts too much to breath. 

But a mere glimpse of You can heal.

A shadow would make them arise and run to glory.

Don't withhold,

but preserve us fragile souls.

The spirit that can't be delivered by man,

uplift Jesus...turn Your face and sow Your light.

That gladness would overflow and rejoicing occur.

Rejoice, help me to rejoice even in the darkness.