11 For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men, 12 instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age, 13 looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus, 14 who gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed, and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, eager for good deeds.
She walks with grace in Sunday dress, A Bible clutched, a clean pretense. She sings the songs, she bows her head, But oh, how far her soul has fled.
Her lips say "Jesus is my Lord," Yet mocks the truth of His own Word. She plays the part, she wears the guise, But all her faith is built on lies.
For once she knew, she once was stirred, Conviction burned through every word. But sin she nursed, she would not flee, And now she's blind and cannot see.
She quenched the Spirit, grieved His flame, She loved her lust and cloaked her shame. And God, in wrath, has turned His face— No longer drawing her by grace.
Her conscience seared, her heart now stone, She walks the path she thinks is known. She boasts in Christ, yet lives in sin, And sees no danger deep within.
A reprobate—yes, this is she, Who lives in fake security. Her hands lift high, her tears may fall, But she has never known Him at all.
She shouts "I'm saved!" and "God is good!" While trampling Christ and all He stood. The cross she wears, a lifeless charm, Yet never fled to Calv’ry’s arm.
No fruit, no fear, no holy awe, She hates God's rule, rejects His law. But still she says, with lifted chin, "I'm born again, though love my sin."
And God has sworn, His Word is true, That many say "Lord, Lord!" — too few Will find the gate, the narrow way, While fools like her will hear "Away!"
So tremble now, O hardened one, Before the Judge, the risen Son. Repent, before it's sealed and done— Before you stand condemned, undone.
He stands on corners, rain or shine, A Bible gripped like sword and spine. His voice is bold, his words are flame, He cries, “Repent! Believe His name!”
The crowds may mock, the cars may jeer, But still he preaches without fear. A prophet's fire is in his breath— He warns of hell, of sin, of death.
To them, he looks like stone and steel, A man untouched by what they feel. But underneath that fearless cry, A broken soul is asking why.
They do not see the sleepless nights, The battles fought in unseen fights, The prayers soaked deep in trembling hands, The sorrow few could understand.
For every sermon that he gives, Another wound within him lives. He weeps for souls that pass him by, And pleads with God, “Lord, tell me why?”
He walks alone, yet not alone, Though silence echoes in his home. His knees are raw, his heart is sore, He knocks on heaven’s heavy door.
Still, to the streets he must return, With lips that ache and eyes that burn. For even when despair is near, He speaks the truth and shows no fear.
Because the cross compels his soul, And heaven's weight has made him whole. Though trembling deep and torn inside, He stands where many run and hide.
A soldier scarred, yet still he stays— Proclaiming Christ through all his days. Not by his strength, but grace alone, He lifts his voice beside the stone.
So if you see him there one day, Preaching loud where sinners stray, Know beneath that thundered plea, Is a broken man—just like you and me.
"Sin is cosmic treason. Sin is treason against a perfectly pure Sovereign. It is an act of supreme ingratitude toward the One to whom we owe everything, to the One who has given us life itself." — R.C. Sproul,
She dances in clubs with a drink in her hand, Lights in her eyes, heels deep in the sand. Laughing at chaos, she lives for the night, Chasing attention, bathed in neon light.
A cross on her neck, a verse on her sleeve, She says, “God loves me, I just need to breathe.” Quoting a Scripture when shame starts to bite, But silences truth when it cuts too tight.
She posts little prayers between selfies and sin, A saint on her story, a storm deep within. “Don’t judge me,” she warns with a confident tone, But hides from the mirror when she’s all alone.
On Sundays she shines in a modest disguise, Hands in the air, with tears in her eyes. But come Monday morning, the mask reappears, The Word she once spoke now drowned by her fears.
A soul in conflict, two voices at war— One knocking gently, one slamming the door. But faith isn’t fashion or something to wear, It’s dying to self, not a casual prayer.
O sister, so lovely, so lost in the game, Christ isn’t a brand, a charm, or a name. He calls you to more than this shallow parade— To walk in His light, not dance in the shade.
Complete Surrender
WAKE UP AMERICA!!!
3 weeks ago (edited) | [YT] | 3
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Complete Surrender
Go Ye Into!
2 months ago | [YT] | 8
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Complete Surrender
Titus 2:11–14:
11 For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men,
12 instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age,
13 looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus,
14 who gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed, and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, eager for good deeds.
5 months ago | [YT] | 9
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Complete Surrender
Yup!
5 months ago | [YT] | 11
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Complete Surrender
"Given Over"
She walks with grace in Sunday dress,
A Bible clutched, a clean pretense.
She sings the songs, she bows her head,
But oh, how far her soul has fled.
Her lips say "Jesus is my Lord,"
Yet mocks the truth of His own Word.
She plays the part, she wears the guise,
But all her faith is built on lies.
For once she knew, she once was stirred,
Conviction burned through every word.
But sin she nursed, she would not flee,
And now she's blind and cannot see.
She quenched the Spirit, grieved His flame,
She loved her lust and cloaked her shame.
And God, in wrath, has turned His face—
No longer drawing her by grace.
Her conscience seared, her heart now stone,
She walks the path she thinks is known.
She boasts in Christ, yet lives in sin,
And sees no danger deep within.
A reprobate—yes, this is she,
Who lives in fake security.
Her hands lift high, her tears may fall,
But she has never known Him at all.
She shouts "I'm saved!" and "God is good!"
While trampling Christ and all He stood.
The cross she wears, a lifeless charm,
Yet never fled to Calv’ry’s arm.
No fruit, no fear, no holy awe,
She hates God's rule, rejects His law.
But still she says, with lifted chin,
"I'm born again, though love my sin."
And God has sworn, His Word is true,
That many say "Lord, Lord!" — too few
Will find the gate, the narrow way,
While fools like her will hear "Away!"
So tremble now, O hardened one,
Before the Judge, the risen Son.
Repent, before it's sealed and done—
Before you stand condemned, undone.
6 months ago | [YT] | 7
View 1 reply
Complete Surrender
📖 Trembling Thunder
He stands on corners, rain or shine,
A Bible gripped like sword and spine.
His voice is bold, his words are flame,
He cries, “Repent! Believe His name!”
The crowds may mock, the cars may jeer,
But still he preaches without fear.
A prophet's fire is in his breath—
He warns of hell, of sin, of death.
To them, he looks like stone and steel,
A man untouched by what they feel.
But underneath that fearless cry,
A broken soul is asking why.
They do not see the sleepless nights,
The battles fought in unseen fights,
The prayers soaked deep in trembling hands,
The sorrow few could understand.
For every sermon that he gives,
Another wound within him lives.
He weeps for souls that pass him by,
And pleads with God, “Lord, tell me why?”
He walks alone, yet not alone,
Though silence echoes in his home.
His knees are raw, his heart is sore,
He knocks on heaven’s heavy door.
Still, to the streets he must return,
With lips that ache and eyes that burn.
For even when despair is near,
He speaks the truth and shows no fear.
Because the cross compels his soul,
And heaven's weight has made him whole.
Though trembling deep and torn inside,
He stands where many run and hide.
A soldier scarred, yet still he stays—
Proclaiming Christ through all his days.
Not by his strength, but grace alone,
He lifts his voice beside the stone.
So if you see him there one day,
Preaching loud where sinners stray,
Know beneath that thundered plea,
Is a broken man—just like you and me.
6 months ago | [YT] | 8
View 0 replies
Complete Surrender
"Sin is cosmic treason. Sin is treason against a perfectly pure Sovereign. It is an act of supreme ingratitude toward the One to whom we owe everything, to the One who has given us life itself."
— R.C. Sproul,
6 months ago | [YT] | 6
View 1 reply
Complete Surrender
“Sunday Saint, Saturday Sinner”
She dances in clubs with a drink in her hand,
Lights in her eyes, heels deep in the sand.
Laughing at chaos, she lives for the night,
Chasing attention, bathed in neon light.
A cross on her neck, a verse on her sleeve,
She says, “God loves me, I just need to breathe.”
Quoting a Scripture when shame starts to bite,
But silences truth when it cuts too tight.
She posts little prayers between selfies and sin,
A saint on her story, a storm deep within.
“Don’t judge me,” she warns with a confident tone,
But hides from the mirror when she’s all alone.
On Sundays she shines in a modest disguise,
Hands in the air, with tears in her eyes.
But come Monday morning, the mask reappears,
The Word she once spoke now drowned by her fears.
A soul in conflict, two voices at war—
One knocking gently, one slamming the door.
But faith isn’t fashion or something to wear,
It’s dying to self, not a casual prayer.
O sister, so lovely, so lost in the game,
Christ isn’t a brand, a charm, or a name.
He calls you to more than this shallow parade—
To walk in His light, not dance in the shade.
6 months ago | [YT] | 6
View 3 replies
Complete Surrender
Fall In Love With Mercy.
8 months ago | [YT] | 7
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Complete Surrender
YUP!
9 months ago | [YT] | 8
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