The Lame Child

I am not
a mover and a shaker,
except for being moved by You,
and quaking
before Your Holy presence.

I am not
ready to rattle the gates of hell,
where I grew up,
but I must tell
how You brought me out.

I have not
been educated
by anyone but You,
nor dedicated
by any but You.

I have not
the lungs for the sprint,
nor legs for the marathon
Can the lame be sent?
Yet even on my litter

I praise You.

I have
seen Your kindness blaze
beyond the darkest sins
and most broken ways
to weep with us.

I have
been indelibly marked
by Your deep beauty
the grace that embarks
on a selfless crusade

I am
changed by Your story
the timeline of love,
of promise, and unstained glory,
of tears cherished and abolished.

I am
the little one You saved
too weak to be strong
too wounded to be brave
but You’ve dwelled with me

And I will ever praise You,

as long as I have a song
it belongs to
The Great I Am.