I came empty and defended,
asking for mercy with my fists clenched.
I’m a prodigal with no way home.
With one hand in a *** of gold,
counting what I can keep,
and with the other in your side,
seeing how much mercy costs.
And still, you came.
Small enough to ignore.
Fragile enough to lose.
I can’t fix myself.
I don’t believe very well.
I stand before You, heart divided
waiting to see if grace would turn away.
It will never.
What kind of Iove is this?
I am undone in its presence,
as the stars and skies to bow to it.
Still in the midst of all creation,
it has come to find me.
This is Christmas.
The chorus of ages, crying into the night,
that the radiance of Your glory, is here.
Close enough to break me,
and loving enough to stay.
You hold the shattered pieces,
having left Your throne,
the King of All, in the dirt with me.
Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC
I came empty and defended,
asking for mercy with my fists clenched.
I’m a prodigal with no way home.
With one hand in a *** of gold,
counting what I can keep,
and with the other in your side,
seeing how much mercy costs.
And still, you came.
Small enough to ignore.
Fragile enough to lose.
I can’t fix myself.
I don’t believe very well.
I stand before You, heart divided
waiting to see if grace would turn away.
It will never.
What kind of Iove is this?
I am undone in its presence,
as the stars and skies to bow to it.
Still in the midst of all creation,
it has come to find me.
This is Christmas.
The chorus of ages, crying into the night,
that the radiance of Your glory, is here.
Close enough to break me,
and loving enough to stay.
You hold the shattered pieces,
having left Your throne,
the King of All, in the dirt with me.