I am a frequent flyer; I fly over land and sea.
I see the fields that pass below, the houses, and the streets,
I think about the people and their stories far beneath,
But I fly on regardless, secure, strapped in my seat.
I am a frequent flyer, on the roads of my small town.
I see faces through my windscreen, insulated, hunkered down,
Are they hurting are they broken? In despair or crushed within?
But I have a busy schedule and plates that I must spin.
He was a heaven dweller yet he came to dwell with us.
To live among the humble and work amongst the dust.
To lift the used and broken; the weak, the sick, the lost,
To take our mess and rebellion and nail it to a cross.
He was of life the giver yet he came and died our death
To bring us to his father, at peace, restored, at rest
He died; he rose, ascended, the guilty slates wiped clean.
And he loves those former rebels, the ones he has redeemed.
I am a frequent flyer but I really need to land,
To walk the way of Jesus, to be his feet and hands,
To stand with the forgotten, the lonely, poor and weak,
For I was lost and broken when he came and stood by me.