He Weeps for Me

Evening grace; before a meal
sacred time or fleeting glance?
precious moments with kindred
or embracing an awful dance?

Holding grace without great care
flippant words – no fervent prayer,
just shallow musings chasing flair,
no deep thoughts, do I risk to share.

My Amen I soon forget
in my rush to find my ease,
empty thanks - filled with regret,
no bruising for my tender knees.

Christian life – lived only by name,
all dressed up in my Sunday best,
Amen, hallelujah I claim;
while sacred mercy I molest.

My Sunday service just a parade
with my prayers all set for show,
trust - a designed artistic charade,
masking the shame bringing me low.

Resting in comfort – not in His will,
searching for glory just for myself,
tithing I'm giving - to get my fill,
service and sacrifice, left on the shelf.

My faith based on what is the time,
deep – when someone is watching,
alone – becomes a nasty mime;
scarlet stain that spoils my washing.

Jesus blood abused by my strain,
heart of justice drowned in my pride,
worship – just what I can obtain,
Its no wonder that Jesus cried…

Its time to stop looking at what is the time,
disguising my feelings in my pretty rhyme,
living in grace and His mighty power,
time for my surrender, no matter the hour.

Dying to self – alive in His name,
forgiven, intimacy thriving,
sharing the deeper, I'm not the same,
grasping the real – not just surviving…

Evening grace; seeking His embrace,
wounded - I come to God again,
leaning on His stunning grace,
He becomes my true Amen.

Prayer: As I come before Your throne, may my surrender – say Amen again.