My Armor

When I’m under attack I know it’s not what I see -
It’s what I don’t see - the powers that be.
I have tools to put on, armor to don
to ensure the defeat of the enemy.

He gave me the belt of truth
to ward off all abuse.
And due due His unrelenting mercy
the breastplate of righteousness makes me worthy.
And on my feet I wear the shoes of salvation
that keep me from the fires of eternal damnation.
Faith is my shield as it blocks off the darts
of satan himself, distracting my heart.
And in my hand I carry my sword,
The Word of God, my Savior and Lord.

So bring it on, you bringers of chaos.
My God has my back and my armor is on.
Look at me, and you see nothing but me,
but come at me, and see just who’s really won.

These gifts

This voice.
This voice that I’ve been gifted I give back to you, oh Lord.
Take it and make it sing your praises because I cannot.

These fingers.
These fingers that I’ve been gifted I give back to you, oh Lord.
Take them and make them play for you because I cannot.

These words.
These words that I’ve been gifted I give back to you, oh Lord.
Take them and make them speak about you because I cannot.

Your gifts.
Your gifts I am not worthy to even imagine possessing,
and yet - when I receive them and give them back to you

I sing.
          I play.
                    I write.

For you. I am yours. Here I am. Send me, Lord.