Poetry

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Offering My Life

I thought it was the singing
With words of love and praise,
The voices loud and ringing,
Open hearts and hands upraised.

The echoes in the chapel
And music on the wind,
Lifting up the name of Jesus
Resonating with no end.

The moving of His Spirit
Which caused the tears to flow,
A deeper sense of glory,
A closer walk to know.

It must be during this time
When He moves in mighty power,
Wouldn’t we have to call it worship
In this most anointed hour?

Then maybe it’s in giving
Of my precious gifts and tithe,
A surrender of the treasures
I have brought into my life.

A sacrifice of something
Which clung tightly to my heart,
I willingly submitted,
From it I’m set apart.

A very prized possession
No longer was to me,
An object of affection
For I had set it free.

What about the teaching
And preaching I had done,
This must be a part of it
Since many souls had been won.

My efforts were most holy
And seemed so blessed by Him,
The ultimate form of worship
Must be freedom from all sin.

Then He told me very plainly
All my soul needed to hear,
His words spoke to my spirit
And resounded very clear.

“Son, it’s when you pray for others,
The ones you do not know,
The words of grace and love,
The seeds that you will sow.

“A smile to the down-hearted,
Warm showers on the cold,
Speak louder than the things
You thought were worshipful.

“Obeying Me when up ahead
The road you can not see,
Unlocking the chains of others
So they can be set free.

“It’s not the things you do
Or the efforts that you give,
But how you hear from Me
And the way you truly live.”

Then suddenly it struck me
Piercing deeply like a knife,
To really worship Jesus,
I must offer Him my life.

Glen E. Spaugh © 2004

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