Search My Hands

Search my hands and search his too; Let the truth testify. I won't call the darkness light To keep a friendship alive. Jesus, I am still Your own, Even with these questions here. Teach me how to walk in truth While this wound is still here. God, You know the wrong I've done; I will not call it small; I've turned my back and hurt the ones I should have loved through all. I've taken blame before I heard what someone had to say; Now teach me how to listen without turning them away. I cannot ask a shepherd for the courage I won't show; I cannot claim I'm healing while refusing what I know. But owning what I've broken doesn't make all blame my own; My sin can't be the reason someone else's goes unknown. How can I ask for care And leave another hurting? How can I preach repentance While my own hands won't open? Jesus, let the change begin Where my excuses end. Make me willing to hear What I once tried to defend. I won't erase the warning just to make the ending clean; I won't pretend that leaving means the hurt was never seen. I'm learning how to hear my children, not defend my name; The truth they need from me can't wait until I lose my shame. You met me in the ministry; You meet me in the grief; A place on someone's schedule isn't proof of my belief. I don't have all the answers, and I won't pretend I do; I will not let a wounded heart decide who I am to You. I wanted him to answer. He may never answer all. Don't make me wait for his response Before I hear Your call. Give me love that hears the hurting, Courage that will stay. Let me pray for his repentance Without explaining harm away. Search my hands and search his too; Let the truth testify. I won't call the darkness light To keep a friendship alive. Jesus, I am still Your own; You can hear my anger here. Teach me how to love Your people Without hiding what I fear. Let my children see me listen. Let the wounded find me true. I cannot repair this whole story; I can give my next step to You. Take the title and the throne; Leave us nothing but Your truth. I still grieve the man who called me son. Father, make my love bear fruit.