Aaron held his peace, so may I (Leviticus 10:3). Please don't think that I'm overcoming great obstacles of disinclination (James 1:2). If you only knew. If I only knew like I wanted to. Though the melody seems tainted, it's the words that carry the hope (Psalm 119:105). Because I walked into the room and laid my head on the hands in which I find inscribed the letters of my name (Isaiah 49:16). There's a certain tension in longing. One that paralyzes fear. One that finds hope in the promises, and in brokenness is complete.
Aaron held his peace, so may I (Leviticus 10:3). Please don't think that I'm overcoming great obstacles of disinclination (James 1:2). If you only knew. If I only knew like I wanted to. Though the melody seems tainted, it's the words that carry the hope (Psalm 119:105). Because I walked into the room and laid my head on the hands in which I find inscribed the letters of my name (Isaiah 49:16). There's a certain tension in longing. One that paralyzes fear. One that finds hope in the promises, and in brokenness is complete.
Aaron held his peace, so may I (Leviticus 10:3). Please don't think that I'm overcoming great obstacles of disinclination (James 1:2). If you only knew. If I only knew like I wanted to. Though the melody seems tainted, it's the words that carry the hope (Psalm 119:105). Because I walked into the room and laid my head on the hands in which I find inscribed the letters of my name (Isaiah 49:16). There's a certain tension in longing. One that paralyzes fear. One that finds hope in the promises, and in brokenness is complete.