A Song of Surrender

This surrender.
This Spirit-filled surrender.
Why, child, deny my gift? He says.
The gift of grace.

I Praise You Lord, that I fall short.
Praise from insufficiency, I feel wild crazy free.
Not sane in the dancing for the fact of failure imminent.

I want to eat and eat of this grace 'till full.
But I will not be satisfied while outside Your grace.
Why do I scurry spent in fruitless effort, scurrying around the greatest thing?

The reason for a cross bloody.
Oh, that cross.
The Spirit-filled surrender is the afterwards of that cross.
 It's the story of Life neverending.

Do I stand before a Savior risen and deny?
Do I close the book I did not write, say there is no more when it is not my word to speak, fight a losing battle to not take a gift that He longs for me to have?

I am weak.
I shout, lungs exhale saving truth, boasting in weakness:
I worry,
I fear,
I am not confident,
I am not perfect though I try
 and try.

I exhale to inhale a Spirit whose gale is stronger, more furious and thunderous than that painful exhalation. 
It is the life after death.
It is the gift that blossoms from the sacrifice as I claim my new heart, my new life.

Praising You Lord for Your uprising in me.
Cyclone of fire in this puny soul, overwhelmed to ashes pure, risen with Him to life in a gift, in a Spirit victorious.

Sweet Surrender.

How can I help but smile helplessly in love each time I know Your name?