How many times can you sing a song without feeling the words?
How many days do we blithely spend only half awake?
Lately, I have been scared. I have been scared for myself and for those I love. Sometimes it feels like freedom hangs just above the horizon in not-too-far distance.
I would chase it. But that too is illusion.
And so I cling to the only thing that is true freedom here in the darkness: the one I struggle with, the one I rebel against, to one who knows me wholly and somehow still loves me.
I cling and have to believe that while these words I sing may be true…
“I have long withstood your grace. Long provoked you to your face. Would not harken to your calls. Grieved you by a thousand falls.”
That these also are true…
“There for me the Savior stands, shows his wounds, and spreads his hands.”
When I feel least human and most broken, I pray I can honestly sing:
“Depth of mercy vast and free. So much deeper than the sea. God of love…you heard my cry. Now into your open arms I fly.”