When we awake

One day, you and I will awake far from here,
In that far off exquisite land that has always been home,
Where tears finally dry and beauty signals an end to fear,
All these temporary fragile failings will fall away like autumn leaves,




One day, we will sit by the river and sing our songs,
One day, we will see the battle won and the death of wrongs,
One day, we will dance before the one and only king,
One day, my dear, we will hear the victory praises ring,
On that day, to the firstborn who hung upon the tree,
On that day, my dearest love, we will be free.



One day, you and I will awake to the light of the king,
In the kingdom not of this earth, by that eternal spring,
Flowing from the throne of grace and mercy poured out,
The crystal sea with all the crowns cast about.




One day, we will sit by the river and sing our songs,
One day, we will see the battle won and the death of wrongs,
One day, we will dance before the one and only king,
One day, my dear, we will hear the victory praises ring,
On that day, to the firstborn who hung upon the tree,
On that day, my dearest love, we will be free.



And all your wounds will be healed and the struggle finished,
Finally safe in that paradise opened when it was accomplished.


















　

Waiting for Isaac.

So many years, walking this pathway with you,

Overwhelmed, I’ve seen your healing and transformation,

New birth, the beautiful moments in everything you do,

Trodden the pathways of this exquisite restoration,



And I have heard your word whispered to me,

As if on a summer’s breeze,

Fallen in love over and over again with thee,

And your salvation that restores and frees.



Prophecy and Worship,

Prayer and Fellowship,

Glimpsed forever in the light of morning.

And in faith of the new day dawning,

Just beyond the horizon.



Amazed you can love me still,

Running away to have my fill,

Of this world’s fading glories,

Falling into stormy seas,

Turning my back, while trying to hold on,

To salvation and the image of your son.



Have I been too much the older brother rather than the prodigal returning,

Looked for salvation in man made towers of sand, rather than being content to sing,

Your praises beneath an open heaven. Am I still birthing Ishmael in all my plans,

When Isaac waits for me to let go of my counterfeit rescue and take your hands