Wilderness To Welcome

Forty years of quiet questions. Sand in my teeth, Dust in my chest. You were the cloud in my distance. I was the drought Calling it a test. Empty places, stubborn pride. Maps that lied, roads that bent. Every night, I still heard You in the ruin Of my own intent. You turned my wilderness to welcome. Every dry bone sings Your name. All my wandering into worship. Every bitter seed, You raised it from the grave. You took my famine to a table, Where my failure sat beside Your grace. You turned my wilderness to welcome, And I see home in Your face. I remember praying in whispers. Words like ash falling to the floor. Thought I was lost past the border. You were the key inside the door. You answered slow like a river, Cutting canyons in my stone. Every no became a mercy. Every closed gate guided me home. You turned my wilderness to welcome. Every dry bone sings Your name. All my wandering into worship. Every bitter seed, You raised it from the grave. You took my famine to a table, Where my failure sat beside Your grace. You turned my wilderness to welcome, And I see home in Your face. Yeah. I walked out limping, but I walked out Living. Carried by a kindness I tried Resisting. You were the fire I thought would burn me. You were the light that finally learned me. Now my scars, the scripture on my skin. Every line a place that You stepped in. If You can write a highway through my shame, You can bring anyone home by the same. You turned our wilderness to welcome. Every dry bone sings Your name. All our wandering into worship. Every bitter seed, You raise it from the grave. You take our famine to a table, Where the broken feast on blazing grace. You turn our wilderness to welcome, And we see home in Your face. Home in Your Face.