Fruitful Poet Tree: 1 John 1:9

"But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness." 1 John 1:9 NLT

Lord, I admit, I see the form of godliness

And it’s so obvious to see the change but not be in it

But you said, if any man be in You he is a new creature

However, God I'm flunking this subject; can I have a new teacher?

A makeover of this ugly feature, this thorn in my side

I feel like it could cause me to miss our wedding when you come for your bride

Why won't this flesh surrender and die? Daily it’s my prayer

Seems like when those words leave my lips, they vanish into thin air

Or is this all a part of a greater testimony?

It's not more than I can bear, but still it’s all up on me...

I give a deliverance praise on Sunday yet fighting demons through the week

And I'm trying to hear you; did I miss you? Let me go back and press repeat

Lord, I'm not complete; my spirit is willing but my flesh is so weak

I want to walk in your direction, so forgive my disobedient feet

I feel like my flesh, Cain, is killing my spirit, Abel

Is this 911? Yes, put me on the operating table

With extreme urgency; I need emergency surgery

The thorn on that right side; yeah doc, constantly hurting me

You knew I would go through this before I was in my mother's thought

The blood of your Son is my bail, because He knew I'd get caught

Did you say this battle has been fought? And ends in victory?...

Romans 8 must be my weapon you selected for me

So, if you knew the plans you had for me before I was in my mother's womb

This flesh needs to die but won't stay in its tomb!

The lump under the rug gets larger, because I keep sweeping with this broom

But you have the power to cleanse and take away residue; where's your vacuum?

Pinch me, do something so I can wake up from this nightmare

Or is this a dream and reality is just unaware?

I feel like David, learning how to trust you when I go through these spurts

Then sometimes I feel like Job, cursing the day of my birth

My heart is yours, now if we can just work on this mind

I'm coming out of this; I can just see the finish line

Guard my heart and mind like a person with an entourage

And cover me like an expensive car that never comes out the garage

If my eyes are conflicting my witness, give me a blindfold

If my legs are running to the wrong business, then close the store

Keep me Lord, keep me; help me Lord, Jesus

Being broken whole means admitting that I'm actually in pieces...

Fruitful Poet Tree