by Moya Boardman
God’s got me in His sights
I’m lined up for the shot
He’s targeted all the stinking parts
Which I really thought “Quite nice”
“I think that person looks boring, a total lack of fun”
Bang! They do something amazing
I’m the one that’s dumb
I sit in priggish judgment on those I look down upon
They obviously don’t understand the truth
Poor misguided ones
(machine gun) He’s really nailed me
As they share amazing words
I got it so wrong, it’s absurd
If my attitudes were hung on a washing line
It would be full of gigantic nickers
That would stretch to the moon & back
For all to see & snicker
But He kindly takes my laundry
And cleans it out of sight
Dries it & irons all the creases out
And returns it under cover of night
If we could smell our sin or see it as a colour
How different would our actions be? …
Or really… would we bother?
Would we make our hearts a space
Into which He could freely flow
Or self protecting react from wounded parts
And continue with the show?
God’s got me in His sights
I’m lined up for the shot
He’s targeted all the stinking parts
Which I really thought “Quite nice”
“I think that person looks boring, a total lack of fun”
Bang! They do something amazing
I’m the one that’s dumb
I sit in priggish judgment on those I look down upon
They obviously don’t understand the truth
Poor misguided ones
(machine gun) He’s really nailed me
As they share amazing words
I got it so wrong, it’s absurd
If my attitudes were hung on a washing line
It would be full of gigantic nickers
That would stretch to the moon & back
For all to see & snicker
But He kindly takes my laundry
And cleans it out of sight
Dries it & irons all the creases out
And returns it under cover of night
If we could smell our sin or see it as a colour
How different would our actions be? …
Or really… would we bother?
Would we make our hearts a space
Into which He could freely flow
Or self protecting react from wounded parts
And continue with the show?
