10.22.2011

Hands and Feet

I apologize for the lack of posting that has happened here recently.  I haven't been in a writing mood for a long time.  I don't know why, but the words won't flow whenever I sit down to write.  Wether I'm writing a blog post, and poem or a letter home, I find myself unable.  So I thought I would give y'all a poem instead.  This one is called Hands and Feet.


People are dying
Their mothers just sitting there crying.
And back home, my favorite team is losing.
While I’m sitting so much on my butt that its bruising
But what happens if I get up?
What happens if I take up the cup?
But it’s so degrading, 
If I get up and start fading
What will the world think?
But maybe, just maybe I am that missing link
Maybe it’s me that needs to go, 
To not wait for the end of the show
But to get up now and never look back
To pick up my cross and carry my pack
Maybe it’s me that could bring the healing
That could restore the feeling
I felt it before, I know where they’re at
I know where they sit, It’s right where I sat.
But to leave everything behind?
People would think I’m losing my mind.
To leave my friends and my family?
To get down in the dirt, to take a knee?
Well thats just unheard of
No one cares for love
It’s all about hate and war
And who of the money can make more
But I’m so sick and tired of all this crap
So sick of everyone just laying around talking a nap
Why do I idly sit and wait?
What am I waiting for? The destruction of hate?
It’s not going anywhere until I love
Not going anywhere until I mimic the One sent from above
This is a problem, when I am so covered in sin
It’s a problem when I don’t look like Him
A problem I can’t fix
A problem that at my brain so ever licks
I want to be your hands and feet
But at this place I need You and me to meet
I can’t go forward without You
Your will can’t do too
Make me, mold me
Shape me into one of the few. 
The few that leaves everything
For Your will and Your praises to sing
The few that really care 
The few that are so rare
The ones that will get down in the mud
And pull out the kids from under the crud
The ones that will go down to Hell make me
Someone who will fight not flee
Make me Yours and Yours alone
That I might rescue those that moan
That I might really show them your grace
That I might be a picture of your face
I’m so tired of making up an excuse
as the rope tightens and makes a noose
It’s killing me, you know
To sit here a reap what I sow
To be lazy and full of hate
A Christian you ask? Well I’m just second rate
I don’t actually care for the ones my God did
I sit around and say I’m just a kid
But what does that matter
When the world around me is one big tatter?
I’m just a kid?  That’s no exception
That’s not a reason for others to feel rejection.
What about Peter? What about Paul?
What would’ve happened if they just leaned against the wall?
What if I go and I’m not second rate?
What If I go and I’m not very great?
What if I go and they don’t remember my name?
What if I don’t find fortune and fame?
What am I saying?! That’s not the point at all.
The point is for me to help save others from the fall
To be Christ and show His compassion
Even if it doesn’t fit in with the worldly fashion
To be His hands and feet
To see people where they’re at and their needs to meet.  


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