I’m not sure he still remembers my name.
I have wandered too far from the flock.
How is it that you tell me
The One who once bore my sin
Is out there somewhere, searching for me?
That, my dear, I cannot believe.
The prodigal son—he remembered
Even in his lowest moment,
The long and lonely road back to his father’s house.
But me? I don’t know the way to the manger.
The rod, the staff, His voice—all have I forgotten.
Tell me, psalmist—how do I return from here?
The wool of sin has grown too thick around me.
I can no longer pasture this way.
The devourer draws near.
And I fear the Shepherd will search for me
And not find me.
My soul has drifted from God for far too long.
I cannot recall the last time I felt His presence.
Believe me when I tell you:
I do not believe you
When you say the Shepherd still remembers my name.
