Hopeless, mechanized, exacerbated,
We refuse to flee the temptation to be exactly what they want us to be.
Faith garnered nothing but a lack of self respect,
And with no foundation, watch as we fall down.
Death was never intended to be the standard.
Death was never intended to be an escape.
Theology is idolatry when our focus shifts to a mirror.
Our eyes, captivated, ever staring.
Endless questions create in me the need to be what they want me to be.
Hopes dashed on the altar of myself.
And with no foundation, watch as I hit the ground.
Pride was never intended to be the standard.
Pride was never intended to be an escape.
Who am I, the adage goes.
Who is God, the adage goes.
Who are we, the adage goes,
What is this, standing silently in the back rows.
But holiness, you cry through clenched teeth,
holiness, not mine to live.
God's holiness creates in me a desire to live above their image of me.
My hope restored in light of his Truth.
Jesus Christ, the only truth that picks me up off the ground.
Holiness was intended to be the standard.
Not mine. His.
Holiness was never intended to be an expression of the person they all wanted you to be.
Shatter me.
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"What a bittersweet symphony life is, but I wouldn't have it any other way."-ABR.
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