Dusty, cobwebbed, smeary,
There are cracks and a few chips,
Yet we’re still able to reflect His glory.
His light bouncing off us to others,
His image, His promise of hope,
His vision of strength renewed,
Of a highway through life’s deserts,
Of rising up on eagle’s wings,
Of resurrection dawns amongst
Life’s long, dark good Fridays,
Of a God not distant, closer than breathing.
These things, these promises of hope
Reflected in each of us,
Not because we are the shiniest,
Smartest or brightest of mirrors,
Not because we grit our teeth
Or clench our grubby fists,
But by His choosing, His life planted within us,
His offer of a fresh start, His life breaking into ours,
The costly chorus of His salvation song
Giving our dusty, shabby lives new music.