I Stand

You stood before creation

Eternity in your hand

you spoke all life into motion

my soul now to stand.

Decades ago, newly born and fresh from salvation, standing because of Him, I dreamed.
Hot fetid breath. I stood and faced a closed door. Blasted open by evil, in my fervor I pursued and the enemy laughed. Blew at me with hate and mockery. I tried to stand. Willed myself. The heat and torment and strength overwhelmed me. I was a baby in the face of an Ancient One, well versed in destruction.
Remember Jimi? How you woke up Sue and prayed for me, even though you were in a different building and it was in the middle of the night? The Spirit of the Living God advocating for me. I was terrified. Too afraid to wake up and consumed by the reality I was dreaming. I was knocked down. Flattened. Mocked.

You stood before my failure

Carried the cross for my shame

My sin weighed upon your shoulder

My soul now to stand.

Time has passed. People have passed. Dreams have passed. Life is a vapor. I grow old.
I grieve at all that I've lost and feel guilt about that too because there is still so much.
I stand in church and sing songs that are beautiful and mouth words that sound simple and are sung fervently all around me.
"My soul Lord to you surrendered, All I have is yours. All I am is yours."
And yet I feel weary, tired, bleak and bleary.
Worn from the race. Used and shriveled up. Victorious saints all around me look and sound good, tanned and svelte, doing enough to serve and never showing signs of wear and tear, beautiful and victorious, monied and privileged.Clear about purpose. Just fine.

But I am coming apart at the seams. Body fails and doesn't obey and is worn and aged, even though technically not, and fatigued.
And apathetic.
Worn out from disappointments and balancing all that I have with all that I'd hoped and all that won't manifest.
Tired of tears and grieving and giving and giving up.
Tired, do you hear? Could we just pause for a minute and S.I.T.?

"All that I have, All that I am is yours."
Well, yeah, except all that you've taken. I mean, really, could ya slow down a bit?
I'm having a hard time keeping up with the toll demanded, extracted, expected.
I mean, I sing those words, but really, I'd like to choose more what it is you'll have, what of me you'll want.
Choked on tears of gratitude that He would have me still and aware of failure and guilty about what I resent and don't want to be taken.
Failure, cause I don't truly mean what I sing.
Cause I want to want to offer this heart, all that I am, completely to Him. But I am frail.
I am weak and rely heavily on certain things to be o.k.
Don't take my kids. Don't take my legs, or my breathe, or my house or my stuff or my money, or my future. Just take the extra. The disposable income. The disposable beauty. The disposable brain cells.
Cause I'm feeling a little desperate to hang on to what little it looks like I have left.

Self, hopes, dreams, relationships, things. Muddled, befuddled. I feel hot dry fetid breath blowing towards me still. The enemy prowls. Apathy blinds, but a wise woman sees and reminds me that the battle is raging, that the good God calls into being the evil one seeks to destroy, will fight and rage against, will take out helpless bystanders in the process and leave them burned to a crisp at the wayside; collateral damage.

I have nothing but what's been given. Which, o.k. I knew that already. But I get so complacent, thinking what I have is really my own. The deception of "mine" is seductive.
I walk in His saving Grace, despite myself. I stand, only because I've been given the courage, the will, the weapons to do so.

I'll walk upon salvation.
Your spirit alive in me.

This life to declare your promise

My soul now to stand.

His spirit, even when mine feels hollow and wilted and burned by intensity. Him. He fights for me. The battle is raging. I hear the weapons clashing, I feel the hit against my breastplate of righteousness.
Are my deeds enough for you, Lord? Is my hope enough?

So what can I say?

What can I do?
But offer this heart O God,

completely to you.

My faith is in Him, the One True, Living God. Not a God of wood and stone.
Breathing, live, living, Creator, Master of the Universe. El-Shaddai. Righteousness. You are my shield.
The fiery darts of the wicked one come in a flurry and come in apathy.
Be my protector.
That I may be able to withstand in the evil days and having done all, to stand.


"The Stand", Hillsong United.
Ephesians 6: 10-13