a rambling prayer of a distracted college student
...
even this broken vessel, Lord? even this you use. for all my inconstancies, all my buried sin, You still use me.
unbidden, You work through me, often intruding into what little semblance i can set up of a "normal" life. how many coincidences? how many coincidences does it take until we call it "divine?"
some people demand You to move mountains to prove Yourself, and sometimes they are right to ask, but what care i for such things? show me the patterns, the webs, the small miracles--show me a single life changed, as You have done before.
i know You made the dead live, and You walked on water, but i only know this from stories. for myself... i've seen cruel men show kindness, i've seen selfish men give their lives away, and i've seen myself less like who i thought i was, and a little more like who i want to be. and perhaps i haven't seen the nail-holes, but i remember driving the nails in myself, so i *know* that they are there.
i said that i'd be Yours until i die, and You have kept me to my word--at times against my will. so be it.
so many small miracles. so many small, beautiful miracles. heh. there are those who would mock me for calling them such, but that's never stopped me before. a smile on the weary can be a miracle, so too tears from the hard-hearted. a kind word, a touch, a hug, a nod, a dandelion... a prayer. these have all been miracles to me.
i'll never understand what You think there is in me see in me, but that You put something there i cannot see on my own. very well then. if i say that You named the stars and made them shine, who am i to argue that You cannot use me? i've seen that You do. and it's amazing.
...thanks.
manibus pedibusque
("with hands and feet;" with total devotion)
i am Yours.
even this broken vessel, Lord? even this you use. for all my inconstancies, all my buried sin, You still use me.
unbidden, You work through me, often intruding into what little semblance i can set up of a "normal" life. how many coincidences? how many coincidences does it take until we call it "divine?"
some people demand You to move mountains to prove Yourself, and sometimes they are right to ask, but what care i for such things? show me the patterns, the webs, the small miracles--show me a single life changed, as You have done before.
i know You made the dead live, and You walked on water, but i only know this from stories. for myself... i've seen cruel men show kindness, i've seen selfish men give their lives away, and i've seen myself less like who i thought i was, and a little more like who i want to be. and perhaps i haven't seen the nail-holes, but i remember driving the nails in myself, so i *know* that they are there.
i said that i'd be Yours until i die, and You have kept me to my word--at times against my will. so be it.
so many small miracles. so many small, beautiful miracles. heh. there are those who would mock me for calling them such, but that's never stopped me before. a smile on the weary can be a miracle, so too tears from the hard-hearted. a kind word, a touch, a hug, a nod, a dandelion... a prayer. these have all been miracles to me.
i'll never understand what You think there is in me see in me, but that You put something there i cannot see on my own. very well then. if i say that You named the stars and made them shine, who am i to argue that You cannot use me? i've seen that You do. and it's amazing.
...thanks.
manibus pedibusque
("with hands and feet;" with total devotion)
i am Yours.