“No Rest For The Word”

There’s a Bible on my desk, buried under time

Collecting dust like a guilt I won’t define

I walk past it daily like it won’t speak

Like conviction’s asleep if I don’t let it breathe

We treat truth like noise in the background hum

Like it didn’t come soaked in blood and lungs

These pages weren’t printed, they were bled

By men who slept on stone with death in their head

I hear chains when I flip these pages slow

Hear whispers from a life I don’t wanna know

They lost everything just to say His name

And I’m scared of losing comfort, scared of the pain

There’s no rest for the faithful, no sleep for the soul

When you know the truth but you won’t let go

I got dust on the Word and blood on the ground

From brothers who died so it could be passed down

No rest for the wicked comfort I chase

It numbs my hands while it hollows my faith

They drank the cup, I avoid the cost

No rest in a life that’s afraid of the cross

They hunted the twelve like animals loose

Called ‘em criminals just for telling the truth

Caves for a home, chains for a bed

Still they wrote heaven with shaking hands

Peter upside down, Paul in a cell

John exiled, still ringing the bell

No crown, no praise, no place to belong

Just a fire in their chest they carried along

I scroll past suffering, call it “amen”

While they stared death down and said it again

If this is the faith that they died to defend

Why does mine fold when it’s mildly bent

There’s no rest for the faithful, no peace in denial

When comfort’s a drug and the truth’s on trial

I got dust on the Word, chains in the sound

Of voices that screamed so we’d hear them now

No rest for the wicked comfort I chase

It feeds my body while it starves my faith

They gave up their lives, I’m guarding mine

No rest for a soul wasting borrowed time

Comfort kills slow, like a quiet disease

Softens the edge, puts the soul at ease

Till nothing feels sacred, nothing feels real

And faith’s just a word you don’t actually feel

Maybe the fire comes when the safety’s gone

When you’ve got nothing left to lean on

They didn’t survive by playing it safe

They bled their belief into history’s page

I don’t need more proof

I need less excuses

Less silence

Less comfort

Less me choosing me

There’s no rest for the faithful, no sleep for the soul

When you know what’s right but won’t let it hold

I got dust on the Word, blood on the ground

From saints who died screaming truth out loud

No rest for the wicked comfort I chase

It keeps me alive but dead in my faith

They carried the cross, I carry my fear

No rest till the Word stops collecting dust here

So I wipe off the dust with shaking hands

Not ‘cause I’m strong, but I finally understand

Faith that costs nothing don’t resurrect

And comfort’s a grave dressed up as rest