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

“No Rest For The Word”