God of Brambles

O God, I know that only You can pierce
the bramble bushes standing in our way,
while my attempts are limp, Your love is fierce
in cutting through the brush so I can pray.

Before I can be sorry for my sin,
I must own it and wade the swamp of shame,
the world’s woods of distractions hem me in,
the demons, Lord, deflect my sword and aim.

Thickets of doubt rise up I cannot breach,
resentments to Your statutes hamper me,
and even clearing some, I cannot reach
beyond the wide divide too far to see.

Then as I falter, Lord, Your stream of grace
cuts through it all and brings us face-to-face.

                        by Pete Voelz      1/15/14