I belong to another.
To Christ.
The one my heart loves with limited sight.
Even in depravity and through my idols.
Even when I have no awareness of Him.
He saves me.
He saves me.
He saves me.
And his love is deep.
Inescapable.
His right hand holds me fast and I am thankful.
Thankful for his valiant protection.
For teaching me that in his presence alone resides the fullness of joy.
And fighting for me to grasp more of his glory with all of my life.
Through intense joy and severe pain, He is worth it.
He explains why I forget myself in grandeur,
And my carnal flesh longs for greatness.
His presence continually beckons and is alone worthy of all energy.
Of all fame.
Not me.
Not me.
Not me.
As I walk through life enclosed by skin,
Remind me of your steadfast hold. Your right hand.
And why it is there.
Because, while maddening, my heart will forget.
Let me be consumed by you.
More of you.
Grow yourself, dear Christ.
Grow your glory through me.
And your hope.
Establishing your work of my hands.
For yours is the kingdom
The power.
And the glory --
Forever.
I mean, what if?
"So, my brothers and sisters, you also died to the law through the body of Christ, that you might belong to another, to him who was raised from the dead, in order that we might bear fruit to God."
Romans 7:4
