Melancholies and Prayers
Another love song plays as I think of words to let remain unto this page.
My days are spent pondering over what would happen an hour from now, 2 hours, 3 hours, 4, 5, so on.
This is another day, indeed.
Another day to face the fears I need not to repress.
For it flows out on its own, like water from a broken jar.
Another day to step forward regardless of my sighs and just hope I even have enough strength to persevere.
A million thoughts race in my mind as I take glimpses of the cloudy yet bright sky outside; a million thoughts of “what if’s”, “if only’s”, “maybe’s”, and “I hope’s”.
Pausing once in a while, to scrutinize if I could still comprehend or determine the weight that I carry in my heart;
not knowing when or until when I might be able to manage as the feelings intensify with every passing minute.
Not wanting to shut my eyes at night for my questions are left unanswered; but also thankful as dawn approaches, thankful that I could for a while dreaming the weight away.
Yet only to be awakened by the light that passes through the openings of the curtains, to wake up to another unknown tomorrow and begin another day.
Truly what lies ahead is cryptic to me.
It is veiled, it is hidden.
I see a clear depiction of what is in front of me, but I am ignorant of what is next.
Fear consumes me as I place my faithless hands unto the knob of every close door I hide behind.
Hesitating to push open; unwilling to let anxiety envelop me as I step out, blinded by the morning light, not knowing what or who will the first my eyes will gaze upon.
This is my melancholy; this is my plea for a Saviour.
I am laid bare.
Consumed by fears but still moving on.
I am weak, I am scared, I am fragile, and I am slowly dying inside, but still constantly reminding myself that Someone is there.
This is the truth I try to hold on to, the truth which I draw strength upon.
Trying to be optimistic as I recall every sweet word He sings in my ears:
The promises of a life, of hope, and a future secure in Him.
This is His song for me: a song of love, as He holds me by the hand to get me through another day.
Reminding me that even with the darkness that surrounds me I am never alone.
So to Him I offered up my days.
For I know that He is the one who controls my tomorrows, He is the one who makes things known and unknown to humanity.
This surrender is the end of me, but I am confident that it’ll be a beginning in Him.
But let not the mere praises of my lips alone justify my heart.
For this is my melancholy indeed; this is my cry for an undivided heart.
I confess that I am entirely incomplete, I know I am undone.
I am unable to finish what has been started; not even able to begin what should be done.
For I am clay in my Potter’s hands, I am dross-filled silver; still being molded, still being refined.
Every breath I take causes my chest to ache as He searches every corner of my heart.
Ashamed for I know I had hidden things in my heart He had told me to let go of, hiding it all in vain.
In vain for I know that He sees all and knows all.
Deliberately refusing to comply with His will; trying to find a flight.
Running away as I held dearly things He said can not even compare to the mere mention of His glorious name.
My foolishness I admit as I cling unto treasured gems made only of paste; not wanting to accept the diamonds He lovingly offered.
This is me, Father; this is how I began, I am human.
I am foolish, irrational, easily blinded and swayed by the temporary and quickly wasting away.
Taking hold of what my hands could grasp whilst it exists.
This is me; I am sinful, selfish, and unfaithful; unworthy, a mockery.
I would rather choose to fade than to cause any more pain unto You.
Yet even through my wretchedness, You still invite me to Your courts.
You summoned me by name and called me Yours.
You sang me a new song, a song of Your agape.
You cradled me in Your arms as you softly sang that I am Yours.
I am still Yours regardless of my mistakes, regardless of the many times I caused You to cry; regardless of my imperfection.
Father, I am ashamed to be held by You.
I don’t want to stain Your beauty with the filth that I bring; the filth that I had collected from swaying away, entertaining myself but neglecting You.
Oh, I humbly plead that You would just grab hold of my heart, that You would do with it anything that You please.
For I know that on my own I am only a disappointment, I always come lacking.
But Father, I desire to give You my all. I desire to make You my all.
Wash me, I pray.
Wash me in Your everlasting mercy.
Cover me Lord; cover me in Your undying love.
I plead for I know I am not worthy of anything beautiful from You.
I plead for I dare not come as I am;
I, who wallowed in muck and is sodden in idolizations.
Purify me, Father; make me clean.
Strip me of me and cause my heart to beat only for You.
Cause me to let the paste fall free from these faithless hands.
Cause me to let go until I have nothing left.
Let me be empty that You may have Your way with me, unhindered, undivided.
Cleanse me and make me new. Fill me with You.
This is my melancholy, Father; my song of faith, trust, love, hope, and submission.
And when another day begins; please God, hold me.
Psalm 27
Jeremiah 29: 11
Isaiah 43: 1-2
1 Corinthians 10: 12-13
1 Corinthians 14: 33-34
2 Corinthians 1:9-10
2 Corinthians 4
2 Corinthians 6: 17- 7:1
2 Corinthians 7: 10
My days are spent pondering over what would happen an hour from now, 2 hours, 3 hours, 4, 5, so on.
This is another day, indeed.
Another day to face the fears I need not to repress.
For it flows out on its own, like water from a broken jar.
Another day to step forward regardless of my sighs and just hope I even have enough strength to persevere.
A million thoughts race in my mind as I take glimpses of the cloudy yet bright sky outside; a million thoughts of “what if’s”, “if only’s”, “maybe’s”, and “I hope’s”.
Pausing once in a while, to scrutinize if I could still comprehend or determine the weight that I carry in my heart;
not knowing when or until when I might be able to manage as the feelings intensify with every passing minute.
Not wanting to shut my eyes at night for my questions are left unanswered; but also thankful as dawn approaches, thankful that I could for a while dreaming the weight away.
Yet only to be awakened by the light that passes through the openings of the curtains, to wake up to another unknown tomorrow and begin another day.
Truly what lies ahead is cryptic to me.
It is veiled, it is hidden.
I see a clear depiction of what is in front of me, but I am ignorant of what is next.
Fear consumes me as I place my faithless hands unto the knob of every close door I hide behind.
Hesitating to push open; unwilling to let anxiety envelop me as I step out, blinded by the morning light, not knowing what or who will the first my eyes will gaze upon.
This is my melancholy; this is my plea for a Saviour.
I am laid bare.
Consumed by fears but still moving on.
I am weak, I am scared, I am fragile, and I am slowly dying inside, but still constantly reminding myself that Someone is there.
This is the truth I try to hold on to, the truth which I draw strength upon.
Trying to be optimistic as I recall every sweet word He sings in my ears:
The promises of a life, of hope, and a future secure in Him.
This is His song for me: a song of love, as He holds me by the hand to get me through another day.
Reminding me that even with the darkness that surrounds me I am never alone.
So to Him I offered up my days.
For I know that He is the one who controls my tomorrows, He is the one who makes things known and unknown to humanity.
This surrender is the end of me, but I am confident that it’ll be a beginning in Him.
But let not the mere praises of my lips alone justify my heart.
For this is my melancholy indeed; this is my cry for an undivided heart.
I confess that I am entirely incomplete, I know I am undone.
I am unable to finish what has been started; not even able to begin what should be done.
For I am clay in my Potter’s hands, I am dross-filled silver; still being molded, still being refined.
Every breath I take causes my chest to ache as He searches every corner of my heart.
Ashamed for I know I had hidden things in my heart He had told me to let go of, hiding it all in vain.
In vain for I know that He sees all and knows all.
Deliberately refusing to comply with His will; trying to find a flight.
Running away as I held dearly things He said can not even compare to the mere mention of His glorious name.
My foolishness I admit as I cling unto treasured gems made only of paste; not wanting to accept the diamonds He lovingly offered.
This is me, Father; this is how I began, I am human.
I am foolish, irrational, easily blinded and swayed by the temporary and quickly wasting away.
Taking hold of what my hands could grasp whilst it exists.
This is me; I am sinful, selfish, and unfaithful; unworthy, a mockery.
I would rather choose to fade than to cause any more pain unto You.
Yet even through my wretchedness, You still invite me to Your courts.
You summoned me by name and called me Yours.
You sang me a new song, a song of Your agape.
You cradled me in Your arms as you softly sang that I am Yours.
I am still Yours regardless of my mistakes, regardless of the many times I caused You to cry; regardless of my imperfection.
Father, I am ashamed to be held by You.
I don’t want to stain Your beauty with the filth that I bring; the filth that I had collected from swaying away, entertaining myself but neglecting You.
Oh, I humbly plead that You would just grab hold of my heart, that You would do with it anything that You please.
For I know that on my own I am only a disappointment, I always come lacking.
But Father, I desire to give You my all. I desire to make You my all.
Wash me, I pray.
Wash me in Your everlasting mercy.
Cover me Lord; cover me in Your undying love.
I plead for I know I am not worthy of anything beautiful from You.
I plead for I dare not come as I am;
I, who wallowed in muck and is sodden in idolizations.
Purify me, Father; make me clean.
Strip me of me and cause my heart to beat only for You.
Cause me to let the paste fall free from these faithless hands.
Cause me to let go until I have nothing left.
Let me be empty that You may have Your way with me, unhindered, undivided.
Cleanse me and make me new. Fill me with You.
This is my melancholy, Father; my song of faith, trust, love, hope, and submission.
And when another day begins; please God, hold me.
Psalm 27
Jeremiah 29: 11
Isaiah 43: 1-2
1 Corinthians 10: 12-13
1 Corinthians 14: 33-34
2 Corinthians 1:9-10
2 Corinthians 4
2 Corinthians 6: 17- 7:1
2 Corinthians 7: 10
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