By Jeff Campbell
I entered The World through the holes in your hands.
The Holes in Your Hands.
I swam like a blood cell in Your Love.
And I was healed where you washed me.
And I was saved, skin-deep;
As deep as I allowed myself to be redeemed.
I have wounds, too.
I have wounds like you.
I have hidden them away.
You know they are there.
But you will not minister
Where you have not been welcomed
You must not know
(and of course you know)
You must not see
(except you see everything)
I lie over my wounds,
Fight you away from my wounds,
And then I am angry
That you will not heal my wounds.
Lord I know
That youll only go
Into those places we invite you.
Ive kept you away
From the places inside me you wanted to stay,
My stupid shame, my foolish pride
You saw me
When I couldnt see you.
You wept with me
When I thought I was hurt and alone.
Youve invited me
Into your wounds
Why cant I
do the same
For you?
I will open up
The door to my heart
Half way.
I will invite you in,
But only so far.
I have these secret rooms;
You are not welcome there.
Perhaps you were sleeping.
Perhaps you looked away.
I hold onto a shred of hope
That you already dont know.
That hope against your wisdom,
That hope against your power,
That hope against
Your love.
On that tiny chance
That you dont know
Id hate, God,
For you to find.
That broken place
Inside of me
That part of me
That must never show.
Jeff Campbell is attempting to follow Jesus’ revolutionary call on his life as a father of three, a husband, Special Education Teacher, and Director of Small Groups at Fellowship Church in Holden, Massachusetts. He frequently tells his kids–much to their great annoyance– that he’d like to be a fireman when he grows up.