the price has been paid

via

we're blood and bones,
through and through.
our hearts are full of sacrifices,
of greedy fingers and angry tears.

blood has to be spilled.

it always has.

the altar is there dripping blood
blood of the sacrifice!
blood for our sins!

we're not made to be lukewarm,
to always be happy and comfortable.
passionate! hard love!
we're made for heavy feelings,
the kind that throws your heart hard into
the golden and deep blue sea of grace.
grace & pain.

we're blood and bones,
through and through.
our hearts are full of confusion
and the yearning to be full always.

blood has to be spilled.

the price must be paid.

the altar is there dripping blood
blood of the Lamb!
the holy, precious Lamb!
it is on our hands.

we have done nothing to deserve mercy.
we are not worthy of love.
the sun does not revolve around us.
we are not important, we are not amazing.

the blood has been spilled.

because i love you.

we do not deserve your love!
we do not deserve grace!
but yet here it is.

here it is.

life is not made for the lukewarm.

it was never about being just the right temperature;
the right thing for our short happiness.

it was made for heavy feelings.
grace that threw you wild and breathless into the resurrection,
it was made to be passionate and to be raw and pure.

pure grace, pure mercy, pure love.
everlasting seas of Him.

sing it, babe. sing it hard and good.

down in the canyon

bury the memories, bury the memories
we are sunk beneath the dying sand
bury the bodies, bury the old stories
we are things no longer there

museums are no more
the past doesn't matter where we are
the future isn't in our blood anymore
we are empty statues
just empty pots and pans

under the ground with the cold dirt
buried, buried with the roots
once down in the canyon
that is where you'll always stay

overthinking strings

via

tie knots on strands of strings
each one different in their own way

hang them up and tangle them together
a little angry and a little sad

i think i understand them more than people
i think they understand me more than people
understanding.

is that what we want?
is that what we strive for?

i think that it becomes a selfish thing.

or maybe not.

thoughts.
they are like tangled, knotted strings.