Called, But Careless

 

Called, But Careless

Chosen from the countless throng,
A leader's badge, a nation's song.
The crowd looked on, their hopes were tied
To shoulders strong, to hearts of pride.

Appointed hands, anointed feet,
They crossed the rivers, felt the heat.
The land was ripe the promise near,
Yet they returned with trembling fear.

They saw the giants, not the grace,
Forgot the God who'd run the race.
And in their mouths, the venom spread,
Until the dreams of millions bled.

Twelve were sent, but only two
Believed the Lord would see them through.
Ten returned with faithless breath,
And sealed their call with early death.

Oh, heavy hangs the sacred call,
Not light, not cheap, but weight of all.
To stand for Him when storms assail,
To live by faith, or else to fail.

May we, who bear His name today,
Not treat His trust as common clay.
For many called may see the land
But only few will fearless stand.

To shepherds bold and those who lead,
To those who preach, proclaim, and plead
The sacred call is not a crown,
But cross and fire that weigh us down.

We may be known, ordained, and praised,
By man uplifted, platform raised,
Yet still be found with trembling soul,
Unfit to reach the promised goal.

O Church, awake! Let pride give way
In every heart, in mine today.
For many serve, and many strive,
But only faith keeps fire alive.

The giants come, the battle waits,
Let faith, not fear, fill heaven’s gates.
O Lord, keep us with trembling awe
For we are judged by heaven’s law.

We call ourselves the chosen kind,
A royal priesthood, Heaven-assigned.
We sing, we serve, we gather near,
Yet harbour comfort, shield our fear.

We host the flame, but guard the spark,
Content to glow, yet not burn dark.
We started well, and still we try,
But sometimes walk with hearts half-dry.

O God, remind us once again
This sacred path is not pretend.
Not Sunday shows or titles worn,
But hearts renewed, and spirits torn.

So here I stand not pointing blame,
But crying out in Jesus’ name.
Refine me, Lord, from deep within,
That I may finish as I begin.

Your mercy, Lord, still calls my name,
Your blood, Your cross, still bear my shame.
So teach my heart to burn, believe,
To trust, to love, to still receive.

Not fear, but faith, let now arise—
A heart made pure before Your eyes.
Revive, O God, these hands once raised,
That I may end the race with praise.

I have not yet finished, but I press on,
That I may one day say: I fought, I ran, I kept the faith.

Geeba Benoie