Pedestals were meant to bring objects up higher,
Not for us to place men upon so we can admire.
Nor to exalt ourselves above others and say look at me,
Or put our lives on display for all the world to see.
Who are we except filthy rags washed clean by lamb’s blood?
Or wretches merely saved my grace and perfect love.
Do we really have anything worthy of envy?
When we’re all an inch short of falling and our hearts being empty.
When we are all striving with hopes to one day see His face,
While we grow weary of the toils that come with this race.
If we opened our closets, what would our skeletons say?
If our prayers of deliverance could be heard, would our admirers turn away?
Because we are all in need of His grace with every step we take,
How dare we boast in our flesh and His goodness we forsake?
If humility were our breath, we would surely die.
Because we have a tendency to puff up our flesh too high.
If there’s any lifting up, it should only be of the Father.
Man-made pedestals don’t last forever so why do we even bother.
He said, “If I be lifted up, I’ll draw all men unto me”.
But that’s hard to do when WE are all others can see.
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