I watch as my world is on fire, emblazoned with grief and hate,
i stand like a child, with a squirt gun in her hands
i can’t put this out, i can’t put this out
i don’t have the words to heal
i don’t have the words to make right what is wrong
i don’t have words that can change the heart of man
i don’t have words to fix what man has done
in the great throng of voices, i feel mine grow dim
i don’t have words to defend or blame
i don’t have words to cast judgement or hate
so in the worlds eyes, i just don’t have words
They quiet me with hostility,
I am silenced by anguish, stifled by anger,
i watch a world drown in a sea of iniquity
looking down at the dropper in my hands
and wondering how i could empty an ocean with it
i can’t, i can’t
I watch as my brothers and sisters cry out
seeking for justice where they will not find it
marching and yelling, protesting, destroying,
pouring salt on their wounds instead of looking for a cure
i understand and i ache for them,
for i was once as they were;
the blind demanding change from the blind.
they call me ignorant and privileged
and i understand that too
if only they could see how my heart breaks for them
i lift my eyes above the smoke and rubble
what do i do father?
how do i save a world on fire?
i know his answer before he says it,
you can’t, you can’t
and they can’t either.
But the one above the rubble and smoke,
has justice that can put out these fires of iniquity,
has mercy much deeper than this ocean of sin,
has love that can calm all fears,
forgiveness that heals all wounds,
and peace that surpasses all understanding.
creations groans, and mankind wrestles
in a longing, so strong for hope and for life
yet refuses to look to their only hope,
pushing away the source of life.
there will be no unity, there will be no peace,
there will be no justice and there will be no love
until the son rises again in all our hearts,
swallowing up darkness forevermore.
I feel the dawn rising in my chest,
as my Father comes to console and comfort me,
“you don’t have to be like them” he says,
“you don’t have to join them to love them.”
I feel freedom as a burden that isn’t mine to carry
drops from my shoulders and rolls away
i am not the healer, i am not the savior.
true justice and peace cannot come from these hands.
The answer has come. Love has a name.
And that name isn’t mine. His name is Jesus.
His hope will live on, though I will die,
His purpose isn’t dependent on my works or words.
i cannot labor to save this world,
and i will not, for my labors would be in vain.
i don’t have the words-
i may never have the words,
but maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be,
for it isn’t my words that will save a world on fire.
