WOOD HAY AND STUBBLE

Seems my life is nothing but wood hay and stubble… maybe God can sift my soul in this wheelbarrow of burning rubble.

Everything that is for me is against me… Upon the rocks my ship is dashed.. waves they swell to devour me, my throat feels spiritually slashed….

Perhaps when God’s consuming fire is finished with me… Maybe some traces of silver and gold… I’m sure I’ll be waist deep in ashes… My failures plain and bold…

Nothing I did was ever quite good enough… I walked mostly in flesh and not spirit… And I’m not about to whimper and cry to God…I know He does’nt want to hear it…

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