I am who I am because of the word of life spoken over me,

Not what I have managed to gain towards my name, nor what I have lost.

In the metric system of the world, do I dare set my standard

to measure up to Him, and Him alone, who knows me inch by inch.

He is my father, and He also my creator.

He is my Lord, who sees me not as slave but son.

Sometimes prosperity and faith hold hands in grace

but when they part, which will I reach for?

The straight shots toward success look like minefields in the Kingdom

And the barren lands of the world, the reservoirs for my soul. 

May my flesh be satisfied to be none to the world 

but a heart set whole upon the altar before your throne. 

You’ve done so much just to be with me that it’s embarrassing to face how little it could take for me to leave. It is so painfully clear that it is not me holding onto you, but you never letting go of me.

It’s difficult sometimes to envision our campus revived, to picture every single one of the 50,000 souls here bowing their knees and worshipping together. Those 50,000 include those who right now have never heard of Jesus, hate Jesus, don’t care a baby’s lick about Jesus, or are completely devoted to some other than Jesus. But that’s what we pray when we pray for revival… and because of my skepticism I feel robbed of faith.  I confess to God that I’m really really sorry, but sometimes I just don’t see it happening.  God, can that literally happen? And He teaches me yet again…