I would still consider myself a “baby-Christian.” I have not been doing this Jesus thing all that long. I am struggling still with some of the qualities that go with Christianity; things like patience, virtue, and self-control. I practiced life for a pretty long time the other way, so such Godly attributes do not come as naturally as I would like.
He fills the canyons this world built in me
He heals my gypsy soul. He heals my gypsy soul. He heals my gypsy soul.
Every September, my hubby and I pack up all our gear and set off for a week in the mountains. To us, there is nothing more healing than that week of quiet; nothing more likely to salve the rough spots of our souls that the world has rubbed raw. And every year on this trip, I have what many people would call a “mountaintop experience” (pun intended.) God meets me in those mountains and ministers to me through all He has created and the resulting rare quiet in my soul.
I’ve stitched life together with fear-colored thread
trying to mend my own pain
stood back and admired my own handiwork
just until the wound opened again
Grace, now sufficient for my sin
It covers me. It quiets
all these voices from within
The people that I used to be
they fight against your will
But your love keeps them still
Who am I
that you’d suffer and die
That your innocent blood would let
So that I’d be redeemed
and now be free
To be the person I am not yet