Tired

I’m tired of the pain, Lord. I’m tired of the tears.

I’m tired of the death and guilt and paralyzing fears.

I’m tired of people saying You’re outdated or a fraud.

I’m tired of seeing my own flesh spit in the face of God.

When I say, “Come, Lord Jesus” my heart is tired too.

The unbelief is deafening as this world becomes unglued.

I’m tired of the rhetoric, the bullshit, and the crap.

My mustard seed is shrinking. I just want You to come back.

My motive is purely selfish, as most my motives are.

I want to see Your face, Lord and trace the pattern of your scars.

I want the world to see that while Your people turned away,

You hung on a cross, consumed by wrath, so that “there will be a day.”

Why can’t I see you now Lord? My God, what can I do?

If I “take up my cross and follow” is it true that I’ll get You?

“Yes Rachel, there is hurt and anguish, sorrow and remorse

As man, left to his own depravity, charts a damn-ed course.

But see, today the Spirit will give sight to blinded souls.

Hell will lose some citizens, as Satan’s grip grows cold.

Hear the angels sing with joy! What a liberating sound!

Keep pressing on, do you not see the harvest that abounds?

You can always find your rest in Me, the unchangeable I AM

But do not let your hate of pain outweigh your love for man.”

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