Refining

There is much to be removed,
so much that has grown in the wrong way,
so much that has hardened into permanent architecture.
And some are branches that can be burned,
while others are walls too high and thick for merely fire
but beating,
ripping away,
crumbling structures I grew safe behind.

O, more grace.

And in Your light I see their gnarly shapes,
protruding ugly fingers that grasp to conquer more,
always more,
never satisfied to possess pieces of me
but wanting the whole.
And I plead with You to come in deeper,
before I am consumed by nothing but what I have allowed to consume me,
and rescue me.
O jealous and gentle God,
whose every blow reminds me that You are good,
let emptiness reign but for a little while.
Fill all where You have removed with Yourself.

O, more grace!

I can stand only because I know You are not finished
until I look like You.
May I not beg for it to stop,
the pounding in my ears from being hammered into Your likeness,
but instead cling to the sound of Your assurance
that You are answering me,
saving me,
fighting for me.

O, more grace.