I sit in the presence of your people.
I see you move
But am unsure of what to do.
Here there are thousands of your church
Worshipping and praising your name.
I love to sit here at your feet,
Yet so many seem to be going deeper than me.
I open my hands
And I hope my heart too
And await your spirit to move in me also.
Speak to me O’Lord.
I’m not unmoved Father
But perhaps my spirit is slower than other’s
I wonder what it is that you are doing
But seem forever on the edge.
Perhaps that’s how you build me.
Perhaps I get in my own way.
Perhaps you don’t want to speak to me.
Or perhaps it’s not about me at all
But about you.
Draw near to God they call
And expect him to come to you.
Yet it’s all rather quiet in my soul
Is it me? Do I fail to let you move?
Or is it not about me at all?
Speak my Lord
Open my heart and mind and soul.
I long to draw near to you before they say.
“Right that’s your lot, It’s time now
to get on with our next bit”
“God is still here, but we have. A schedule you know.
Don’t sit there, God might be at work but
You can’t sit there, stand there.
God won’t give you the spirit if you’re in
The wrong place.” It’s not about you.