It’s gonna be a long, long road* / with too many minds / too straight and too narrow, / narrow.  / I know that together we are a big ship to turn, / and it happens slowly, one heart at a time, / but I am convinced / that we can either cut through these waves of change coming our way / to timeless truth and changeless grace / or be swept away by the currents.

I know that culture tells us we need to pick a side, / to claim the ground beneath our feet and fight, / but I refuse to believe that people are my enemies. / This is not a war of flesh and blood, / but of powers and principalities. / How long will we continue to point the finger / and fail to take our own hearts into account? / I believe we are being deceived / by this mess inside our chests.

I know that I am a prodigal son, / and I like to tell myself I’ve had my fill of filth / but the desires haven’t gone away. / I know the feeling of going to bed every night, / thinking “God above, no.  Amen,” / the name of Jesus too painful to speak, or / sobbing in the basement of a coffee shop, / praying, “All I want is one kiss!” / A kiss on the cheek, / a kiss on the lips.

But I know / that to this day I’m living with my Father / because he’s constantly convincing me to stay, / singing, “You are my son; / you are not my slave. / You are not my slave.” / And it’s uncomfortable, / but I’ve learned the secret of facing comfort and pain, / abundance and need; it’s Christ, / who makes a home out of me / when none of my homes feel right. / God, you are my hiding place and not this closet / or these secrets! / I’m resting underneath the shadow of your wings / and not the dark, looming clouds of fear!

I know that I want this word / tattooed in black ink on my heart: abide. / I in him, he in me, / because I desperately need it to be true. / It’s the thought that will be endlessly written  through my life like poetry. / Every rhythm of life, / every half or perfect rhyme, / every break / at the end of a line / is according to the purpose of a Master Poet.

I know that English only goes so far, / and so grace will be my second language; / every word pronounced by this flaming tongue / will be from divine vocabulary, / redemption and redefinition. / My eyes will be open, and yet my arms will be open; / my heart will be open, and this, / this will be my proclamation: / “Orientation / is a beautiful word, / it means not where you are, / but the way you’re facing.”

I know / it’s gonna be a long, long road, / and though I am weak / still I will follow, / follow.