Mary's Song - Call Her Blessed (Tim Knipp)

Young as I am -
You found me.
Flawed though I be -
You called me.
How can it be?

I sing Your glory and wonder
at the amazing story
You gave breath to.
How delightful is Your hand
that caresses my cheek,
softer than a breeze.
That touch will mark 
me for eternity
as Your choice -
the One to bear Your Son.

O marvelous are You, Lord!
The longing of generations
will be met through me
and You.
You, who bring grace 
to those who fear You.
You have invaded kingdoms
and overthrown dictators -
You rescue the oppressed,
feed the hungry
and 
overturn tables
of money changers 
in temples.
You reach across 
the barrier between
heaven and earth
with Your mighty arm
and interfere with
the powers of darkness,
lifting us
from 
danger.
You rescue those
who call out to You.
You challenge our hubris,
expose hypocrisy
and pry our fingers
off riches
that can ease 
a thousand hurts.

You remembered us -
that we are Yours
and that You promised
to bless us.
Call me blessed
that I may bow
graciously
before Your will
in spite of the unknown barbs
that will inevitably 
scrape my soul.

Call me blessed.

Mary, Call Her Blessed - Shanon Kempt (Luke 1:26-38)

In a time of waiting
we reflect
on what has been
and will be.

Miraculously implanted,
the child gradually grew -
nubs became arms
and legs,
lung sacs and organs -
those mysterious machines -
sprouted and 
began their functions.

All begun with, "Yes."

As Mary submitted to God's invasion,
so we can choose
to begin the orchestration 
of divine growth in us.
How frightening
that decision is!
How revolutionary
to allow Him to overthrown
the current regime
that rules our hearts;
to imagine Him entering
the impoverished shanties
within me,
the scorecard of failures
and belligerence 
prominently displayed...
How can this be?

"The Holy Spirit 
will come upon you..."
O, how the Spirit hovers
over darkly shadowed crevices,
waiting.
Our, "yes" allows the Spirit
to let light in,
light that exposes, yes,
but also brings life
to barrenness,
the seed implanted.

What emptiness lurks
inside me that I have yet
to open to His Spirit?

What sterile soil
has crusted over
that cries out for the delirious
rain of His prodigality?

What incremental growth
has already formed
in me
that I can celebrate -
aware of pressure against spine,
a kicking at the ribs
of my routines,
reminding me of His
miraculous indwelling;
His breath
in my veins.

He chooses me daily,
giving me again and again
the chance to answer,
"Yes, come grow
Jesus in me
so I can be
a blessing."