After reading Renee's book 'Purpose for the pain' (a must read!)
I got an idea for a new version of The between the tree's song 'a time for Yohe' running through my head and decided to write it so heres a season for Yohe...
A season for Yohe.
As she stands by the stage, face to the sky,
Praise comes from her lips
and floats right up to Him,
She has lived through so much pain,
but God's wiped away her tears,
He's her saviour and now she sings...
This is her time to dance,
This is her time to sing,
God's redeemed her and he'll use her,
to build up all who mourn,
It will help them when they see her,
pulled from hell and shouting his name,
broke through lies to tell them about truth,
her light shines so brightly all around,
she'll love 'em and tell 'em this is not their fault,
(but) time, love and jesus are keys to beat it,
Help them find God's love is... greater than medicine.
Were seein' her on fire,
She's on fire for her God!
Now heres the real version as written by Between the trees, my fave band at the moment!
"A Time For Yohe"
As she sits in the corner Face to the floor,
She dispels smoke from from her lips,
And slowly floats away with it,
Letting go of so much pain,
Her tears are thick enough to stain,
The pavement that slowly becomes
Her best friend when she needs to run away,
This is your time to weep,
This is your time to mourn,
Not yet time to build up,
Just a time to tear down Old walls
Does it help to say I'm sorry,
If so than I'm sorry that your so unhappy,
This life those lies are starting get you down,
Darling don't let them drag you around,
Saying "it's my fault" doesn't help repeated,
Time, love and Jesus seems to beat it,
She'll find out this is harder than, Taking medicine
We're still waiting for the fire,
Seeing smoke and waiting for the fire.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Surgeon
The Surgeon
God is our great doctor,
Able to heal the deadliest of memories,
And remove the pain that has long been embedded in our hearts and minds.
Like a skillful surgeon he cuts away splintering mistakes and heals our damaged pasts.
But just like a surgeon God often leaves a scar,
Not because he’s imperfect,
But because sometimes we need our scars to remind us,
To stop us from falling in the same place.
If we follow God’s instructions our scars won’t hurt us,
We just need to believe and obey and we will soon be back on our feet,
Fit and healthy again.
God is our great doctor,
Able to heal the deadliest of memories,
And remove the pain that has long been embedded in our hearts and minds.
Like a skillful surgeon he cuts away splintering mistakes and heals our damaged pasts.
But just like a surgeon God often leaves a scar,
Not because he’s imperfect,
But because sometimes we need our scars to remind us,
To stop us from falling in the same place.
If we follow God’s instructions our scars won’t hurt us,
We just need to believe and obey and we will soon be back on our feet,
Fit and healthy again.
Be still
Be still.
Be still and know that I am God,
In the midst of chaos you cry for me,
Your head so full of lies and poison,
The evil one, he clouds your view,
Taints your feelings, stabs your heart,
It hurts me too, to see you suffer,
But I don’t leave, no I never turn away,
He spins you round, disorientating you,
Making you dizzy, Making you faint,
When you fall down, surrender,
Open your heart, cry out to me again,
Then be still, listen to my voice,
Im speaking to you, you often miss it,
In the mess and noise he creates,
Its hard to clean up, when your in the way,
I can’t fix your heart if your holding the pieces,
Just let go, let me help you!,
I’ll fix it all, just be still!
Psalm 46:10
Be still and know that I am God.
Psalm 37:7
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.
Be still and know that I am God,
In the midst of chaos you cry for me,
Your head so full of lies and poison,
The evil one, he clouds your view,
Taints your feelings, stabs your heart,
It hurts me too, to see you suffer,
But I don’t leave, no I never turn away,
He spins you round, disorientating you,
Making you dizzy, Making you faint,
When you fall down, surrender,
Open your heart, cry out to me again,
Then be still, listen to my voice,
Im speaking to you, you often miss it,
In the mess and noise he creates,
Its hard to clean up, when your in the way,
I can’t fix your heart if your holding the pieces,
Just let go, let me help you!,
I’ll fix it all, just be still!
Psalm 46:10
Be still and know that I am God.
Psalm 37:7
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.
Renee Yohe
I was reflecting on the writing of an amazing girl the other day and wrote something...
I love reading her myspace blog and am waiting for her book 'Purpose for the pain' to get here!
Renee (Your words)
Honest words,
Helpful words,
Healing words,
Your words bring life,
Spoken in love,
And full of grace,
Your brokenness,
So real,
So raw,
Yet your light,
Oh your light,
Shines so bright,
Breaks through the darkness,
The pain,
The brokenness,
Your life so full,
Of hope and help,
HIS love,
HIS grace,
His redeeming power,
You take their hands,
For hope and help,
You walk with them,
They walk with you,
Community…
Never alone,
Through honest words,
Helpful words,
Healing words,
You help bring life,
You shine His light,
He redeems the lost,
He heals us all.
If your reading this and don't know who Renee is and why she is such an inspiration this is her story...
To Write Love On Her Arms (by Jamie Tworkowski)
Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."
would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.
Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.
She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm.
The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her c hurch, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.
She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.
I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes.
Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show. She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies. On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope. Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired. After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff. She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life. As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope." I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly. We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true. We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home. I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember.
I love reading her myspace blog and am waiting for her book 'Purpose for the pain' to get here!
Renee (Your words)
Honest words,
Helpful words,
Healing words,
Your words bring life,
Spoken in love,
And full of grace,
Your brokenness,
So real,
So raw,
Yet your light,
Oh your light,
Shines so bright,
Breaks through the darkness,
The pain,
The brokenness,
Your life so full,
Of hope and help,
HIS love,
HIS grace,
His redeeming power,
You take their hands,
For hope and help,
You walk with them,
They walk with you,
Community…
Never alone,
Through honest words,
Helpful words,
Healing words,
You help bring life,
You shine His light,
He redeems the lost,
He heals us all.
If your reading this and don't know who Renee is and why she is such an inspiration this is her story...
To Write Love On Her Arms (by Jamie Tworkowski)
Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."
would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.
Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.
She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm.
The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her c hurch, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.
She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.
I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes.
Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show. She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies. On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope. Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired. After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff. She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life. As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope." I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly. We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true. We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home. I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Its been a long time...
I decided tonight that i wanted to update my blog... I've barely written this year but i do have a few new things... But when i decided to put them up i realised i left my notebooks at the bungalow and have nothing uploaded. Soooo i decided to put some old stuff up that i wrote for some people that are really special to me... Even though these things were writted AGES ago i decided i still like them... (and its not like anyone reads this blog now anyway!)
Written just before she moved...
My Angel
I asked God to give show me answers,
In a way I understood,
He sent me an angel,
From heaven above,
She’s so beautiful,
Inside and out,
She has a heart made of gold
And is oh so wise,
She taught me about hope,
And helped me to grow,
She taught me about love,
And helped me to trust,
She challenged me,
To choose the right paths,
She listened to me,
And I knew she understood,
Her name is Lori,
And now God needs her elsewhere,
I’ll miss her greatly,
But my love and prayers go with her always.
You are…
You are my hope when I’m hopeless,
You are my healing when I’m hurt,
You are my comfort when I seek it,
You are a lifesaver, pulled me from depression,
You are my shoulder to lean on,
You are my support that I need,
You are the challenge that I crave,
You are my teacher; wise beyond experience,
You are my light in the darkness,
You are my guiding, shining star,
You are a treasure, worth more than gold,
You are a gift that I’ll keep forever,
You are a miracle, sent to me,
You are an angel, freed from heaven,
You are my world, you are my friend
You are all these things and more to me.
You are Lori.
22/11/06
For my beautiful 'SOUPer' Jen. Wow its been a long time since that nickname has come up :p.
Souper Jen…
You flew into my life, like you’d always known me,
You were there for me at all the right times,
You made me laugh, when I wanted to cry,
You held me together when I wanted to die,
You connected with me, and I understood,
You reminded me of where strength comes from,
You pierced my heart as you spoke,
You knew the unspoken pleas of my heart,
You prayed for me so that I could go on,
You broke down my walls, with the greatest of ease,
You lifted my burdens like they were nothing at all,
You rescued me and saved me from myself,
You are my shoulder to cry on,
You’re my firm rock to lean on,
You’re wisdom is my answer to prayers,
You become my Sister in Christ…
You changed me completely for the better,
You helped to create the new me,
You shine Gods love through your life,
You’re a star in Gods eyes, Your royalty,
You are my Souper hero!!!
Written just before she moved...
My Angel
I asked God to give show me answers,
In a way I understood,
He sent me an angel,
From heaven above,
She’s so beautiful,
Inside and out,
She has a heart made of gold
And is oh so wise,
She taught me about hope,
And helped me to grow,
She taught me about love,
And helped me to trust,
She challenged me,
To choose the right paths,
She listened to me,
And I knew she understood,
Her name is Lori,
And now God needs her elsewhere,
I’ll miss her greatly,
But my love and prayers go with her always.
You are…
You are my hope when I’m hopeless,
You are my healing when I’m hurt,
You are my comfort when I seek it,
You are a lifesaver, pulled me from depression,
You are my shoulder to lean on,
You are my support that I need,
You are the challenge that I crave,
You are my teacher; wise beyond experience,
You are my light in the darkness,
You are my guiding, shining star,
You are a treasure, worth more than gold,
You are a gift that I’ll keep forever,
You are a miracle, sent to me,
You are an angel, freed from heaven,
You are my world, you are my friend
You are all these things and more to me.
You are Lori.
22/11/06
For my beautiful 'SOUPer' Jen. Wow its been a long time since that nickname has come up :p.
Souper Jen…
You flew into my life, like you’d always known me,
You were there for me at all the right times,
You made me laugh, when I wanted to cry,
You held me together when I wanted to die,
You connected with me, and I understood,
You reminded me of where strength comes from,
You pierced my heart as you spoke,
You knew the unspoken pleas of my heart,
You prayed for me so that I could go on,
You broke down my walls, with the greatest of ease,
You lifted my burdens like they were nothing at all,
You rescued me and saved me from myself,
You are my shoulder to cry on,
You’re my firm rock to lean on,
You’re wisdom is my answer to prayers,
You become my Sister in Christ…
You changed me completely for the better,
You helped to create the new me,
You shine Gods love through your life,
You’re a star in Gods eyes, Your royalty,
You are my Souper hero!!!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Light and darkness, turning and letting go
Light and darkness
Stranded in the deathly darkness,
searching for a way out,
looking for the light,
to guide me to a better life,
I feel that im searching,
in all the wrong places,
and the light is no where to be found,
I know that it exists,
I've seen glimses before,
felt its warmth,
and known its peace,
but these times never last long,
the darkness returns,
and with it comes the pain,
the fear and the uglyness,
will it ever end?
will i ever be free?
will i know a God,
that offers life,
and gives it meaning,
happiness and love...
I hear its within me,
but it must be burried deep,
as rarely do i find it,
or even believe in it at times.
Turning
Im turning to the light,
turning to find God,
but all this turning,
is leading to crazy circles,
making me dizzy,
confused and angry,
If God's so prefect...
shouldn't he be easier to find?
In a world so broken,
you'd think he'd stick out,
i guess he does though,
In the lives of those who know him,
I see the difference,
and long for it too.
Salvation
"If you confess with your mouth "Jesus is Lord" and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.
-Romans 10:9
"Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved"
-Acts 2:21
"For i am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demonds, neither the present or the future, nor any powers, neither hight nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
-Romans 8:21
I've heard it all before,
i understand it,
i can remmeber it,
i KNOW its true,
why do i still doubt?
Why do i question my salvation?
wonder about God's love...
worry about my life...
i guess the heart bit gets me...
BELIEVE in your HEART...
heart stuff is so hard,
always getting confused with emotion,
How do i know for sure?
The bible says it...
why is it so hard to grasp?
Holding on and letting go
In the that time between,
holding on and letting go,
theres so much pain,
confusion overwhelms,
we are thrown around,
God's calling us to him,
but we must let go,
let go of the world,
and to the devils ways,
it takes a lot of courage,
and it doesn't happen quickly,
when we let go we fall,
but thats not always bad,
if we're trusting God,
we will fall into his arms,
and then we can hold on,
hold on to God,
hold on to his truth,
and hold onto God's promises,
they are all true,
you can trust him,
so let go of the world,
and hold onto God!
Stranded in the deathly darkness,
searching for a way out,
looking for the light,
to guide me to a better life,
I feel that im searching,
in all the wrong places,
and the light is no where to be found,
I know that it exists,
I've seen glimses before,
felt its warmth,
and known its peace,
but these times never last long,
the darkness returns,
and with it comes the pain,
the fear and the uglyness,
will it ever end?
will i ever be free?
will i know a God,
that offers life,
and gives it meaning,
happiness and love...
I hear its within me,
but it must be burried deep,
as rarely do i find it,
or even believe in it at times.
Turning
Im turning to the light,
turning to find God,
but all this turning,
is leading to crazy circles,
making me dizzy,
confused and angry,
If God's so prefect...
shouldn't he be easier to find?
In a world so broken,
you'd think he'd stick out,
i guess he does though,
In the lives of those who know him,
I see the difference,
and long for it too.
Salvation
"If you confess with your mouth "Jesus is Lord" and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.
-Romans 10:9
"Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved"
-Acts 2:21
"For i am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demonds, neither the present or the future, nor any powers, neither hight nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
-Romans 8:21
I've heard it all before,
i understand it,
i can remmeber it,
i KNOW its true,
why do i still doubt?
Why do i question my salvation?
wonder about God's love...
worry about my life...
i guess the heart bit gets me...
BELIEVE in your HEART...
heart stuff is so hard,
always getting confused with emotion,
How do i know for sure?
The bible says it...
why is it so hard to grasp?
Holding on and letting go
In the that time between,
holding on and letting go,
theres so much pain,
confusion overwhelms,
we are thrown around,
God's calling us to him,
but we must let go,
let go of the world,
and to the devils ways,
it takes a lot of courage,
and it doesn't happen quickly,
when we let go we fall,
but thats not always bad,
if we're trusting God,
we will fall into his arms,
and then we can hold on,
hold on to God,
hold on to his truth,
and hold onto God's promises,
they are all true,
you can trust him,
so let go of the world,
and hold onto God!
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