When I Make Time

Peace isn’t just found,

but given through

habits that bring

us closer together.

It’d been forever

since I called

on Your name.

The words don’t

feel the same,

and the shame

gets in the way.

Maybe on another day,

maybe when I

get done with

what I have to do—

then I’ll make

time for You;

the One who

molded me

in my mother’s womb,

and made plans to

prosper me,

and lead me to help

and hold those

that can’t for themselves.

Maybe, in a day

or two,

when things calm down,

I’ll seek a way

out of this hell,

with the devil nipping

at my heels,

and whispering in my ear.

What does it take

to draw near?

The end of the self

is the door to a life

that isn’t filled to the

brim with consequences—

of sin and separation.

And with reflection,

you’ll see the desire

of the flesh creates

unrest, and pushes down

a heart that belongs

to someone much more

strong, who can lend

that strength and erase

the debt.

No one

ever found regret

in forgiving—only living

absent the Truth.

But I don’t need

proof that everyone

has had seasons when

they didn’t feel like singing.

There is meaning—

and it’s not found in

the things we feel

we want,

but in walking

away and toward

Someone we felt

long ago—

before we

“learned” the ways

that we are told are right,

and we lost our sight,

walking onward,

alone,

into that darkest

night.

Read next: He Will Speak

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