My Redeemer is Alive

I hear a whisper in my ear
Telling me that You are near
And nothing that this world holds dear
Could make the glorious truth less clear

My Redeemer is alive
He truly came
He truly lived
He truly died
Yes, my precious Savior is alive

I feel a gentle breeze go by
Softly spoken words from God Most High
"I love you; you need no longer cry.
Wait, for I will soon draw nigh."

Yes, my Redeemer is alive
He really came
He lived
He died
My beloved Jesus is alive

A soft and gentle rain washes over me
Cleansing, like the blood that set me free
A life like this I never knew could be
For I was so long blind, but now I see

And my Redeemer is alive
He truly came
And lived and died
Yes, my Redeemer is alive

I originally wrote this poem in October of 2001, when I was a Senior in high school.  For most of my life, I had gone to small Christian schools, but my senior year, I went to public school for the first time.  I believed that God wanted me there, so I could tell others about Him, and "be a light".  The irony is that I was such a quiet and shy person that I rarely even had an opportunity to talk to anyone about God, and if I did, I was too timid.  Part of the reason it was so difficult for me to share was that it was very important and very personal to me, and at that time it was very hard for me to share something that I cared about so much with just anyone, even though that's exactly what I needed to do.  I had all these ideas about how I was going to be a witness, and I was going to sit at the lunch table with that person who was all alone.  What I hadn't counted on was the fact that since I was new to the school,  I was the one sitting alone at the lunch table! 

I would often walk to the library after school to wait for my mom to get off work, and I would ask God what He was thinking sending me to this school.  He knew I was shy.  He knew how hard it would be for me to make that change.  Sometimes it felt like a joke. 

I had this, and several other poems written in one of my school notebooks.  I had sort of forgotten about them when a guy in my French class took my notebook and started looking through it.  I didn't care if he looked at it since I didn't think there was anything but class notes in it.  But he found the poems, and every one was about Jesus, about what He meant to me, how He made a difference in my life.  Every one said clearly all the things I would have found very difficult to say. 

Whenever I think of it, I have to smile, and that smile is for God Himself, because, yes, He did know how shy I was, and He did know that it would be hard, but He used me in a way I wouldn't have thought.  He used my writing. 

I don't know what happened with that boy, whether he ever accepted Christ or not.  I have to leave that to the Holy Spirit, and trust that the things I wrote will be like a seed in his heart, and that someday hopefully they will grow into something more. 

I have thought about that year of my life many times, mostly with regret because I felt like a failure.  I never led anyone to Christ, never even had an extensive conversation about Him with anyone.  But as the years go by, I remember things, like the poems, and I know it wasn't wasted. 

Not too long ago, God showed me that even if I didn't say anything, because He lives in me, just my being there brought Jesus to that school.  Not that I was the only Christian, but I was one more.  Wherever I go, Jesus is there.  When those kids looked at me, though they might not have known it, they were seeing Jesus.