As I place my hand over the right side of your chest,
where your heart beats, I feel that you are not dead..
yet..
Every beat I feel, I feel purpose.
With the touch of my hand,
the Spirit in me runs through your body like electricity,
and gives you, life.
When I speak life into your body you revive,
sin, has been eating at your bones,
your dry bones became alive.
As I place my hand on your face,
pale and white it is, your cheeks are as white as snow.
Your lips have lost color and it quivers,
odd is it to me that you felt that way,
on that beautiful Summer's day.
Oh your eyes have turned gray,
and hollow, your eyes are soon to overflow.
Water falls from the eyes like a never ending stream,
and as the dear pants for the water,
as the baby longs to be found.
So drink, drink from My well,
your mouth is dry from walking on that depressing road.
Your face is in My palms.
Tears stream down My hands, down My arms, and drip from the elbows.
The Well of Life is taking place,
in the heart.
"I love you."
You look up, then look away with shame.
With a kiss on your cheek,
your cheeks turn red,
rosy by the warmth clashing with the cold underneath your skin.
As I look into those gray eyes of yours,
they turn bright blue,
like the sky on a Summer's day,
the way it was intended too!
And your lips!
They use to be drenched in honey,
full of laughter and wisdom,
but the Enemy has muzzled you,
your lips are silenced and depressed.
Oh how I will destroy the Enemy for what he has done.
But it's fine now,
there's nothing left to do,
just rest with your back against Me,
I just want to love you.
Oh sweet, Jesus,
I don't want to be like Peter who boasted his love for You,
I want to be like John,
remember that last supper you had with him?
Yeah,
I want to be the one to lean on Your chest,
close, a place so intimate, yet so innocent,
That's where I want to be the most.
Receiving, knowing Your love for me.
Feeling the vibration in Your speech every time you speak,
hearing those bitter - sweet - words of Yours leaving your mouth,
"Before the rooster crows today you will disown me three times."
But as Peter stood boldly like the rock his name meant,
"Out of these twelve, I will never leave or forsake you."
But that night,
as Peter watched from a distance.
As people were believing Peter was Him,
more than believing in Jesus,
was the Son of God.
And as the rooster crowed it's last crow Jesus looked up,
and with the heavy burden of betrayal fell on Peter's shoulders.
How bad did it hurt Jesus?
They say you've been pierced three times,
but what about the sword of betrayal that stabbed into your back and out your heart,
the words of "I - never - knew - Him."
Lingering in the air, the silence haunting Peter as those harsh words left his crisped lips,
remembering the shattered promise he made the night before.
I know you're try to take this all back Peter,
I know how you think this is unreal.
"Did I really just say that? Is this how bad Jesus feels?.."
But even when you refuse to believe in me, and you don't know what to do,
I still believe in you, even when you don't believe in you.
I'm not left, and I'm not right,
keep your face straight,
where the road is less traveled,
because if you look the other way it may be a little to late,
so don't boast in your love for Me, turn away your face.
For Peter represents the law and John represents grace.
