How on earth do You call someone like me, Lord?

God, my Lord,

How is it to be,

somehow in Your plan,

You in Your calling

have chosen me?

Not as some aloof noble,

but as a normal woman or man,

to walk humbly with my God,

to execute Your redemptive plan.

What do you see that I certainly don’t?

Maybe it’s what I’ll do from what I won’t.

It could be the experiences within which I’ve been awoken,

It could be that You know just how much I’ve been broken.

It seems what’s nested 

deep within my person,

Is the substance of You,

that I sense in the hurting.

I really don’t know why,

it’s me You’ve located,

Apart from the fact,

I can’t despise anyone 

even if I’m hated.

But just like Isaiah,

when his lips were made clean,

I cannot help but say ‘yes’,

and You know I’m keen.

Whatever it is,

I know well this day,

I will face You and Your work,

without any delay.

So, give me my portion,

Your divine estate,

I’ll hold it for You,

I’ll hold that weight.

I’ll not take it for granted,

for in fear and trembling,

I promise to honour You,

as You do the soul mending.

Called not by strength,

nor by one’s own power,

but to be faithful for the length,

of God’s chosen hour.