Lyrics For The Fallen

23 07 2011

I slipped,
fell into disobedience,
committed indiscretions;
I entertained wickedness,
blindly erred;
was at fault,
a founder of misdeeds.
I offended,
I violated,
went astray:

These words and more I could rearrange how ever,
still, they say the same thing
in different sentences;
my sentence,
my shackles;

I was ruined by them and ashamed.
I walked out from under
the covering of goodness,
looking back on it
as if I would never know it again:

My sins stood higher than my head.
My guilt extended past the horizon,
beyond what I could fix.

How could I save myself?
Would another day
or month
or year,
save me?
Would all of time itself?

Every new road I took was the same worn path
around the same grey prison.
Every new set of clothes
was still the striped uniform of the inmate.
Every day that passed was only another day
of my self-imposed sentence.
There was no parole board for me
to explain or justify anything.
I could not give myself a leave; relief.
My file was thick with what I deserved
leaving no option; no plea bargain.

Within those walls —
my listless self
my lifeless garden
my endless routines
— was the appearance of making a living.

I was deaf, and could not hear,
I was mute, and could not speak,
Yet You came to me with poetry, God,
as if it were just the two of us.

I begged You: Don’t fill my head with pictures of You
“sweeping my wrongdoings away like the clouds,
my sin vanishing like the morning mist.”

What right did I have to even hope for that?

It was impassable,
impossible to think that anything could be “blotted out.”
“Return to me”
was an invitation for other people.
was for the redeemable.
I cried: Don’t come close and whisper into my unclean ears
unfailing love” and “great compassion.”
Those were words for someone else,
everyone except me and
my exceptional sin.

I didn’t know how to navigate the road that ran between
and “sanctification,” hell and back,
but in the relentless pursuit of me, You said,
“If you repent, I will restore you that you may serve Me,”

and You tread my sins underfoot.

“A broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
You, God, will not despise.”

You met me before
I was all the way turned around
and rewrote me
from sorrow to song
set to a new score.

It is a wonder how
You long for the creatures
Your hands have made.
Far from forgetting me,
You counted my steps
Back to You.

— Teresa Klassen

Points of Reference (plug these into

Job 14:16-17

Psalm 32:1-7

Psalm 38:3b-22

Psalm 51

Psalm 103:1-5

Micah 7:18-19

Matthew 9:2

Luke 7:48-49

Psalm 65:3

Colossians 2:13-15

Psalm 78:36:41

Psalm 25:6-9

Isaiah 43:25

Job 10:15

Psalm 34:5

Psalm 106:43-45

Jeremiah 15:19

Ezekiel 18:30-31

Luke 15:7

Ezra 9:6

Jeremiah 31:19

Romans 6:20-22

Isaiah 44:21-22



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