Ashes on the Altar

I wore that collar like a shield In a house that knew my name. Sunday hair and polished shoes, And a table set for grace. Then the rain came through that summer, Took my boy and broke my hands. I stood there in the hallway, could not say I understand. I left the book on the counter, Left the light burning all night. Walked past the church on Willow like I'd buried My own life. Every hymn felt like a stranger. Every prayer came back the same. If God was still listening, why'd He let the Earth take names? But the widow down the road came by with A pan of cornbread in her hands. She said, "Baby, you don't have to know, Just let the hurting land." And something in that simple mercy started shaking Loose my stone. Like a crack of dawn in winter, Like I wasn't quite alone. Grace found me When I was gone. Grace found me And held me on. I lost my voice. I lost my flame. Grace found me and called my Name. Now I preach to three old pews and a Boy with muddy knees. To the ache behind the smile, to the ones Who still can't believe. I don't promise every answer. I don't dress the wound in gold. I just tell them how the darkness could not Keep me from the hope. Because the widow down the road came by with A pan of cornbread in her hands. She said, "Baby, you don't have to know, Just let the hurting land." And something in that simple mercy started shaking Loose my stone. Like the crack of dawn in winter, Like I wasn't quite alone. Grace found me When I was gone. Grace found me And held me on. I lost my voice. I lost my flame. Grace found me And called my name. I was leaning on a canyon With my fist against the sky. Then I heard a quiet mercy In the places I'd gone dry. Not a thunderbolt or vision, Just a hand upon my back. And the road that I had burned up Led me gently where I lacked. Grace found me, mm, when I was Gone. Grace found me and held me On. I lost my voice. I lost my flame. Grace found me And called my name. Grace found me In the rain. Grace found me In the rain. Grace found me And stayed.