Dodging Sodom

It’s not what I’ve done but what I am that’s the problem.
If only actions stood condemned, my confession would be easy.
Here again, like fleshly kin, I fall, the sins betray You.
The seeds of death wrought deeds bereft of life beside You.
A mere equation, rote occasion, nothing more than dodging Sodom.

It’s not what I’ve done but what I am that’s the problem.
That deadly force, transgression's source, must lie without me.
If sin alone gets buried is it really necessary to die with You?
Shifting blame, that gifted same forbidden fruit still pains You.
Avoid detection, misdirection, nothing more than dodging Sodom.

It’s not what I’ve done but what I am that’s the problem.
Bodies splayed and broken, three arrayed on oaken graves at Calvary.
Survey the crowd, You cry aloud, forgiveness oozing from Your regal crown
Born to bleed; the nails, the spear, and death somehow become You.
No relenting, start repenting, something more than dodging Sodom.

It’s not what I’ve done but what I am that’s the problem.
The truth displayed in spittled rage erupting from me.
I looked within and saw my sins in torrents rush upon You.
A flood of guilt and silt and gall, desecrated flesh is all renewed in You.
What I am is not who I am, escape, and don't look back at Sodom.