The Song
The Nearness
A song from the book — in your choice of voice, with the words to read along.
Choose a voice
Two recordings of the same song. Pick whichever you relate to — the words are the same.
I kept the streak, I did my reading,
sang the songs and meant them, mostly,
drove home Sunday in a silence
that wasn’t peace, though no one knew.
Tired in a way that sleep can’t reach,
I lived for Him but never with Him,
performing for a distant God
who never once was far from view.
He is already near —
you don’t have to get His attention.
Turn — not your body, your attention —
toward the One already here.
There’s a chair still in the kitchen,
and it’s always, always been yours.
Go and sit down, dear friend,
He is already there.
His eyes run to and fro across the earth,
not for the strong, but for the leaning heart.
You were sought before you ever sought Him;
your thirst was His fingerprint from the start.
There is no ladder to the top of your best efforts;
the door was opened from His side.
He saw you coming from a long way off and ran,
because a Father watches the road.
He is already near —
you don’t have to get His attention.
Turn — not your body, your attention —
toward the One already here.
There’s a chair still in the kitchen,
and it’s always, always been yours.
Go and sit down, dear friend,
He is already there.
When you fail, He builds a fire on the shore,
and breakfast comes before the questions.
When the winter comes and you can’t feel Him,
the warmth was a visit, but He is a residence.
You will drift, everyone drifts,
come back without a speech, without the shame.
The returning is the practice —
two words: “Back, Lord,” and He’s the same.
The meeting doesn’t end when you stand up;
He walks the seven miles beside you.
The dishes and the car line and the stove —
there are no secondhand hours anymore.
And the quiet souls of every century
who found Him in the kitchen and the field
are a circle that runs on thirst, my friend,
and you will never sit alone again.
He is already near —
you don’t have to get His attention.
Turn — not your body, your attention —
toward the One already here.
There’s a chair still in the kitchen,
and it’s always, always been yours.
Go and sit down, dear friend,
He is already there.
In His presence is fullness of joy.
Come and see.
The chair is still in the kitchen.
He is already there.