No Sacrifice

Capo on the 7th
Standard Tuning

Verse 1:
Em D G C
Broken hearts, empty hands
Am Em G D
Longing for Your touch, O God
Em D G C
Tired eyes, sinking sands
Em G D G
Dreaming of Your Grace again

Chorus:
G C
Take my hand and hold it tight
Em D
And show me your love
G C
Take my hand and hold it tight
D G C
Surround me with your beauty, yeah
G C
Take my hand and hold it tight
D C G
Capture my heart again

Verse 2:
Em D G C
Endless streams, twinkling skies
Am Em G D
Thinking of Your beauty
Em D G C
Ardent souls, changed lives
Em G D G
Remembering Your mercy

Repeat Chorus

The chords won't space out right because blogger is lame, but it's pretty easy to figure out. This is currently one of my favorite songs.

When the shepherds heard of the birth of Christ from the angel in Luke 2:15, they decided among themselves that this was an opportunity they couldn’t miss. They were going to witness eternity. When Jesus was born, there were only a small number of people that made the journey to witness his birth. I can’t help but wonder if we would have been willing to make that same pilgrimage and stand in those same temperatures just to catch a tiny glimpse of our Savior, the change we can truly believe in. Would we have been willing to travel thousands of miles sacrificing multiple paychecks to go the little town of Nazareth to see a baby in a manger? Then, I remember that we did. Mark 15:6-15 tells of a very large crowd that gathered to see Jesus Christ. The lost, the hurting, and the poor assembled to witness the ascension of a man born into a world where He should have never been able to achieve anything, being a rural, son of a carpenter living in no home at all. Being the very embodiment of Grace and Mercy, primarily for our own undeserving selves, Jesus descend to Earth not only as the Son of the Almighty God, but as an emancipator of those enslaved by sin so that we might receive eternal life. Thousands of people, similar to those who gathered in Washington, D.C., screamed and shouted for their Savior. “Crucify him!” they shouted, “Crucify him!”

She smiles with innocent eyes
While looking at his gentle face
With faith only a child can grasp
She asks, "Will you marry me, Daddy?"
And for a moment her world
Shines brilliant, complete, pure

She smiles with melancholy eyes
While looking at their daunting faces
With questions only the wounded can ask
She whimpers, "What's wrong with me?"
And for many moments her world
Burns bleak, disenchanted, inadequate

She smiles with lifeless eyes
While looking at her many faces
With defeat behind her every mask
She cries, "Who will help me?"
And for a moment her world
Screams desolate, depleted, death

She smiles with hopeful eyes
While looking at His gracious face
With faith only the broken can clasp
She whispers, "Will you hold me?"
And for a moment her world
Radiates love, hope, grace

She smiles with His eyes
While looking at their hungry faces
With faith only the restored can grasp
She asks, "Will you heal them, Daddy?"
And for a moment her world
Shines brilliant, complete, pure

As I smell the sweet, spicy scent, a strong sense of nostalgia pours over me, and I remember days when anointing oil dripped from every doorframe. Whether the oil held any significance or not, there was power in those prayers. Every morning I woke up to my dad on his knees praying for our family, and I never went to school without praying with my parents. “Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my Strength, and my Redeemer.” These words from Psalm 19:14 still echo through my head daily because of the amount of times my mother and I quoted them on my way to school.

Never once did I long for someone to share my deepest spiritual thoughts and questions with, and I always knew that I had someone to turn to if I needed prayer. The adults in my life saw the importance of prayer. Prayer wasn’t something we just talked about in church. Prayer was a part of my everyday life. Prayer was something I shared with those around me. Prayer was an essential part of my family and my community, and my childhood naivety led me to believe that this was the way life was designed to be.

Instead of having friends that wanted to meet together for bible studies and in-depth theological discussions, I was forced to dive head first into the shallow, lukewarm waters of Christian mediocrity. Rarely did I come across a friend that would even take the time to pray before meals so I felt like asking one of them to pray with me during a time of struggle was completely out of the question. The few times that I did I received the typical “I don’t like praying out loud” or “sure, I’ll mention it to God before I go to sleep”. We all claimed to be Christians, but none of us were willing to step outside of our comfort zones and form a community of prayer.

We go to church on Sunday, and we have empty conversations with those around us. When people ask us how we are, we reply, “great”, and we expect them to do the same in return. Church isn’t a place for us to display our problems. When we discuss our problems with friends, we listen and offer each other hollow advice. We might even mention it to God in a quick prayer, but that’s only if we have the time to think about it. If a friend wants prayer, then they should probably go see their pastor or another adult in the church. Better yet, they should probably just keep it between them and God. And we wonder why we feel so lost. So disconnected.

Yet, I just can’t believe that this is how God has designed us to be. Our generation has lost the belief in the power of prayer and the importance it has in the community. The importance it has in the family. People should never be afraid to ask a Christian to pray with them, and we should be able to turn to each other for prayer in a time of need. How do we expect to see changes in the world? In America? In our families? In our own lives? If we don’t sit down and pray together now, then what is going to change whenever we start our own families? Who is going to pray over our families daily? How will our children know the power of prayer? Will they even know what prayer is?