God, where are You
When the road I'm on gets too much to bear?
When my legs are about to give way?
I feel like I'm going
But I'm getting nowhere.
Like these lessons are too hard to be learned,
Like everything keeps repeating itself
And I'm bored of having my faults stare me down over and over.
I'm tired of feeling as though I've let You down.
God, I want answers
Or is that asking too much?
Am I just meant to be content with the not knowing?

Creator

And You created the heavens and the earth.
But still, we have the audacity to package You into a neat little box,
Pulling You out whenever we feel like it.
Whenever we need something,
If perhaps life becomes too unsettling
And then without a second thought
We pack You away again in our little God box.
Sidelining the Creator until once more our comfort becomes discomfort
And our happiness, fleeting as it is, turns to sorrow.
How dare we, the created ones,
Choose when and where and how the Creator plays a role in our selfish existence.
Our God, the Creator, must be our very existence.
For without Him our existence is worthless.

Promise

I am what you have,
I am what you want
And I am the one you promised to love always.
Good times and bad times
A promise is forever, remember.
So it hurts me
And I lose a part of something inside of me,
Dignity, pride, self-pity, self-denial
Call it what you will,
Each time you turn your gaze elsewhere.
The moment I lose your attention
Is the same moment I start to question
All over again.
So love me.
Want me.
Need me.

Innocence Lost

Your innocent mind is filled with adult ideas,
Where do you get them from
And why do you care?
Don't you want to just slow it down,
Be a child,
Live like a child,
Think like a child
And know like a child?
You act like you could take on the world.
But believe me,
The world is not so kind
As you may think it is.
So hold on and wait
To face the world.
Please,
Be a child before its much too late.

Hope.

Is this really home?
A plastic bag hangs on the door
Its contents overflowing,
Dirty washing waiting to be clean.
Pictures on the walls,
Smiling faces and happy memories
Make it all a little less lonely.
But hide them all away
And what am I left with?

The calendar reminds me of the days
Longing to be lived
If only they knew how much they were dreaded.
Empty, white spaces
Full of uncertainty.
Lord, I want the strength to fill them
With colour and life,
Spontaneity.
To leave a mark on each day,
A mark that counts for You,
That makes my waking worthwhile
My expectancy, satisfied
And all for Your Name's sake.