Then to Now

Sun cooked, skin toasted—
A face on media never posted
was the kid who was told "Follow me"
With blurry, tear-filled eyes, he couldn't see,
but an upstarted beating heart he could feel—
against the light that cut like burning steel
A kid who saw life played out like a reel,
and the Bright stripped away an onion peel

Sun cooked, skin toasted—
A fisherman rough with his boat coasted—
Heard it said to him, "Follow me"
The Son in his eyes, the perfect Plea
Could He be the Messiah real?
Would He seek a man with no next meal?
Fisherman to disciple—now, that's surreal
"Follow You?"—if You want, I'll even kneel


Five loaves, and two fish—
He gave a boy all he could wish
A boy so wretched, in sin born empty,
took from the deep and colored him worthy
Unknown, away, decrepit, and dead—
him cleansed white with a fall so red
How could the King serve a servant instead?
A God so loving laid down His own cred

Five loaves, and two fish—
sacrificed, made ever such a dish
Yet, traveling over waters murky,
I stepped out bold, but sank in worldly worry
"You are the Christ" Oh, I said
with faith smaller than mustard seed tad
With His praise I let it to my head—
my heart proud growing heavier than lead


Blood dripping, wrists pierced—
for world's sake accursed
That day saw the Lamb from glory apart,
and to flesh did turn a cold stone heart
What had we done so to deserve thee?
So, to rip the chains and avail thy blood to see?
Oh, what pleasure to hold the key!
To life and joy shall all my days ever be!

Blood dripping, wrists pierced—
how could the King from glory be divorced?
From there did my confidence depart,
and did my foretold denial take part
One, two, and three
Heard the rooster and I thought of He
who would die next day on that tree
Sacrifice! I could not pay such a fee!


Nets cast, all hands on deck—
like an osprey on its prey peck
Christ called me fisher of men;
though I may fall, He picks up again
As a large fire starts from one single match,
if thee to myself do so attach,
shall there be no fish too quick to snatch
A fort of stone to thee shall be like thatch

Nets cast, all hands on deck—
I'm but a rock for ships to wreck
How could I cast away He who holds the pen?
Back to fishing and back to my den
Hours of night I pass to catch,
but I'm left with not one net to patch
Plan no more in my mind to hatch
Shall in heaven be no house for me to latch



Yet sits a Man by the fire—
with a flame a feet high—no higher
"Simon, do you love me more than these?"
O Lord, You, not even death or sin could cease


You know my all in all—
You know my failures and my fall
You know my deceitful heart against the call
You know my every hate and lazy stall


I cannot love You as I ought—
but I can love because You have fought
Your heart burns for me more than hot
I'll fall on You though my flesh may rot

O Lord so help me run this race as I pant
So, to hear You—and only You—say,
    "Rejoice, my good and faithful servant."

Written and performed for Manna Coffeehouse on May 7th 2019.