(This is part of what inspires me, please read this or watch the YouTube video!
I am a lost sheep, with no individual identification when compared to those around me. I am immersed in a sea of sheep as far as the eye can see and as far as I can see, I am not even who I wanna be. Even though I claimed I was just doing me, I was just another culture clone, dousing myself in cologne, wearing all the coolest clothes, it’s amazing how you can be surrounded and still feel alone.
I mean, i grew up ok, I had relatively nice things, I had relatively cool friends and would sometimes even go to church on the weekends. But my weakness, my brokenness, was so much more real to me, then the God these pastors claimed could set this sheep free. Because where was this Shepard? No where was his flock? No why haven’t any of them met me in the darkness where I walk?
Destiny was not in my dictionary, value not in my thesaurus, so ofcourse I got off course when the only source of support was coming from jersey shore.
I was the wondering one, the prodigal
son, I wanted God but soaking in sin seemed more fun. Not knowing it would leave me dry as a sponge in the desert sun. So like John Lennon, I imagined this savior I wanted to see, but like Paul McCartney I was scared so I just let it be, driving around pimping in my yellow submarine all the while screaming “help, I need somebody.”
See I lived in this constant state of curiosity, updated my Facebook views to Christian but didn’t live the way I ought to be, though I just flirted with the theology, never could fully commit to dating the doctrine properly, so I just took a step back awkwardly grabbed a telescope and kept my space, like astronomy.
But see, you can’t star gaze at the king of days without seeing the sun rays, so when I heard that the son raised on the third day I realized I was a sheep that was never even lost in the first place. No I was just sitting in my own grave, right where it happened to be my very own rebirth day.
See I was the sheep that put him on a crucifix, to fix the death from which I am dismissed, I labored in sin and he took my shift, holes made in his wrists as our spots were switched and death swung a haymaker that completely missed. Because my God is like Muhammad Ali in the ring, with the grace of a butterfly and the sovereignty of a king. He dodges every cold fatal sting of death with the very same breath that I put life inside my chest. So if you call the gospel trash, well then I guess you have grasped the message, because my God dumpster dives head first into wreckage, he transforms recycled sinners into his very own reflection, so you can call him a garbage man, because he turned my mess into a message. Because since Genesis, our hearts have been anything but sinless, despite all of our reports being horrendous, the debt paid by the blood of his son as tremendous, so praise the lord, praise the lord, C’mon PRAIS THE LORD! because his Gods pursuit after you is relentless.
