He gives all the usual excuses:
He lacks credibility, the right words to say.
He doesn't know how to act.
He doesn't know God.
Moses' words are ours.
We give all the usual excuses.
The moment comes when we turn
And see the bush burning, endlessly burning
with injustice, with poverty, with pain,
and we hide our face.
To whom are we blind, and deaf?
Whose cry for help do we ignore, embarrassed and afraid?
What word goes unsaid,
sticking dry in our throats,
unconvincing, uncomfortable, unloving?
The moment comes when we turn
And see the bush burning, endlessly burning
with injustice, with poverty, with pain,
and we hide our face.
To whom are we blind, and deaf?
Whose cry for help do we ignore, embarrassed and afraid?
What word goes unsaid,
sticking dry in our throats,
unconvincing, uncomfortable, unloving?
We think the word needs to be ours.
We think the word needs to be correct.
We think the word needs to be original,
perfect, exactly right,
and we break our hearts and our teeth
and we fail.
O God, fill my mouth with Your words.
Be with me as I speak.
Teach me.
Make every word a prayer, a blessing,
Imperfect and broken.
Make every word Yours.
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