CLAY

If obedience is known by her children

and wisdom is crying in the streets

Then where do I fit into this picture

of what You have for me?

I find myself running daily with this vision

and instead of saving others

I think its saving me

It’s keeping me on task

to serve You and to love You

and reminding me each day that I am free.

When I try looking back on the selfish

and foolish person I used to be

It’s like looking through a dirty window

The images are no longer clear to see.

I don’t fit with most religion and most people

I can’t be put into a mold

I think maybe that’s why I walk

a solitary path alone.

I know I’m called to something different and higher

Those people who feel they’re outside of grace.

My duty, my honor, my call, my obligation

Is to show them there was a time

when I couldn’t see Your face.

I’m so human it’s scary

Sometimes my words are not wise,

But I remember my purpose quickly

Everytime I look into their eyes.

When You breathed into Adam

You used clay, dirty clay.

When You healed the blind man

You used clay, dirty clay.

So why would I think

In this late time and day

in Your choice of using me

You’d do it any other way.