I Spit in the Wind of Heaven

I heard the choir above my head, Singing soft for the nearly dead. White-robed mercy, golden stair — I just stood and stared.

They called my name like I was lost, Like I feared eternal cost. But I’ve walked roads too hard and thin To beg my way back in.

You can promise pearly gates, You can threaten fire below — But I’ve buried both my doubts Long ago.

I spit in the wind of heaven, Let it carry what it may. I don’t kneel for forgiveness, I don’t bow to be saved. If there’s judgment waiting on me, Let it stand where I stand. I spit in the wind of heaven — And I don’t wash my hands.

I’ve seen good men rot in chains, Seen saints drown in their own shame. If grace was real and fairly given, Why’s the ground so unforgiven?

I ain’t chasing spotless light, I ain’t scared of endless night. I’ve made peace with who I am — No holy plan.

You can carve my sins in stone, You can carve them deep — But I won’t trade my truth For sleep.

I spit in the wind of heaven, Let the angels turn away. I won’t crawl toward redemption, I won’t beg to stay. If the sky wants war with me, Let it draw its hand. I spit in the wind of heaven — And I still stand.

I ain’t pure. I ain’t clean. But I’m honest in between. If I burn, I burn whole — With my boots on my soul.

I spit in the wind of heaven, Let it storm, let it rain. I don’t need a shining crown, I don’t fear the flame. If eternity’s a courtroom, Let it call my name. I spit in the wind of heaven…

And I won’t feel shame.

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