Practice the Presence

Fluorescent light, porcelain, water running,

Another pile of dishes,

another day becoming What feels insignificant,

repetitive, small— But nothing is mundane when You govern it all.

The hands that You fashioned,

the breath You sustain,

The strength that I borrow,

the life You ordained; So whether I labor or whether I rest,

I do it in faith,

knowing Christ is my rest.

Not earning Your favor through work of my hands,

But working because grace has already been granted.

The ground is Your temple,

the whole earth Your stage— My worship is measured by faith,

not by praise.

Practice the presence,

Practice the presence, Practice the presence of God.

In all that I do,

In all that I do,

Let it be worship to God.

Practice the presence,

Practice the presence, Practice the presence of God.

In all that I do,

In all that I do,

Let it be worship to God.

I want something greater,

something worthy of song,

But You teach me greatness by showing where I’m wrong: The kingdom

advances through mustard-seed faith,

Through servants who suffer,

through those who obey.

The world calls it wasted; You call it a gift— A cup

given gladly, a burden You lift.

For Christ did not measure His worth by applause; He humbled Himself

and fulfilled all righteousness.

And now in His body,

redeemed by His blood,

My work is not payment—it’s worship to God.

So give me contentment when no one can see,

For Your eyes never wander; You’re present with me.