Head bent low, from the dust, I cry
tears spilling over from guilty eyes
The cross I deserve from my wicked ways
burdens my back, as my head hangs.

The consequence of my sinful flesh,
the crime to be paid, this degrading death
And every desire I had every chased
is exposed to the world,
in naked disgrace.

And every time the hammer swings,
it may as well been my hand that brings
my condemnation, for I craved
to indulge the flesh with my sinful ways.

Breath comes in rasps, and oh! the pain,
the ground below is crimson stained,
with my last breath, I call for Him
surrender mingled desperation.

And heaven's skies are opened up,
to crimson tears, as down they drop
they cover me, my sins erased
love and sorrow, saving grace.

Purified with another's blood,
expression of amazing love,
for when he died upon that tree,
he took the penalty meant for me.

This time, instead of asking God, "Why did you take it away from me?" I can truly say "Thanks, God, for giving me the opportunity to have had it at all."

He truly does give and take away, but his blessings are measureless, and he will make good of every sorrow and trial. 

Pure. (adj)  Having no faults; sinless
                   Free of dirt, defilement, or pollution

I take up the position of the defeated, for that is what I have become. Face-down in the murky mire, I allow the mud to seep into every pore, a physical manifestation of the shame inside. I make no move to rise - I know what I am. The black, tarry mud is every bit of what I deserve.

You walk purposefully towards the mire where I lay dejected. Without hesitating, you wade in and reach to me. You whisper "My beloved, you are pure."

Bubbles form around my mud-caked lips as I laugh into the mud. Pure does not describe where I've been, what I've done, or who I am.

You touch me, and my laugh becomes hollow in my throat. Through the mud clinging to my eyelashes, I see you staring into my soul. Limitless love, looking into me. Has anyone ever seen that far before?

You reach one strong arm around my shoulders, the other under my knees, and you lift me out of the mud.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I love you." You say,

You set me down besides a stream, and diligently go about washing me. Tender, sweet strokes cause the mud to  fall away, layer by grimy layer. It takes time, but eventually, I look pristine on the outside.

"My beloved, you are pure." You whisper.

My insides knot up frantically. Though you have washed the mud on the outside away, the muddied shame on my insides remains. Surely, there is nothing you can do to wash that kind of dirt away.

Just as these thoughts dance through my mind, you takes even strides towards me. You sit directly across from me and take my hands in yours. You look me square in the eye, and with all the loving authority of a father, you say, "I know that you were angry with me. I know you felt I let you down. I know the loneliness that ached inside of you those nights. Child, be free."

"I know you sought a different kind of love. I know you gave your first kiss away in vain, and I know all the empty ones that followed. I can count every night that you spent desperately ashamed. Child, be free."

"I know that you cherish things above me. I know you are easily drawn away from me. I know that you long to remain in me, but never live up to your own expectations. Child, be free."

"I know that you ran from me. I know that some days, it hurts so badly you feel like running away again. Child, be free. I promise you my freedom, and my love. I don't promise it won't hurt, but I promise I will make it good."

As tears stream down my face unabashedly, I whisper "Why?"

"Because I love you." Your simple reply. "My beloved, you are pure."

I am choked with the emotion. The power weighing on those words. Free of dirt, and of a filthy past. Free of shame and the pollution of loving the things of the world. Pure as snow.

And as the truth sets in, I dance. There is joy in my heart, for I know freedom and peace, and I know the Giver of these things. And you smile and laugh and share in my lightheartedness. And as I spin, you catch me, and I know I am falling in love.

When I can catch my breath no longer, you ask me to marry you. And I know I am your beloved, and you are mine. I know I am pure. I know I am loved. But I ask anyways, just to hear you say it,

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

love-carved hands

I long to truly know what freedom is,
to breathe it through my nose and feel alive.
To wrestle with this darkness I've been buried in,
and come out on the other side.

But so many times I wander,
and many more I fall
So many times my gaze falls from the One above it all

So won't you guide me forward,
with those rough carpenter hands,
the same ones that painted sunsets
that will lead me into plans
to prosper and to bring me hope
when I can't do this on my own,
I'm reaching, to take Your gentle hands.

I long to know surrender,
to fall upon my knees and bow low to you
To overcome the weariness of this living in
a world that doesn't know you

And who I am to say I'm any better,
But with your love, I know I'll someday get there

I need you to guide me forward,
with those rough carpenter hands,
the same ones that formed the mountains
that will lead me into plans
to prosper and to bring me hope
when I can't do this on my own
I see you reaching with gentle hands.

And Lord, I long to know you
by the touch of your hands,
the hands that drove out demons
and wiped the tears of sinful man

The hands that hold the whole world,
are holding me
So won't you show me.

I need you to guide me forward,
with those love-carved hands.
Step into forever with you,
into your plans.

I want to share something I have been learning lately. A hard learned lesson, no doubt about it. But before I tell you that, you have to check this out first (they are completely relevant to what God has been overcoming in my heart lately...so do it!) :

And this:

Conversation with Jesus

Who are you? And how do you know my name?

How can you say you know me when we've never met? No one knows me, or at least, not most of me. Although... that's probably for the best. What would you do if you did know me? Run probably. You might even turn up your nose at me, and trust me, you wouldn't be the first. I mean, look at me. I'm a mess. If you truly knew me, you'd realize that I wasn't worth knowing and walk away, just like everyone else before you. So go ahead, get on your way. I won't trouble you any longer.

What? What was that? You love me?

Okay wise guy, did you just hear what I said? You don't even know me. You can't love me. And even if you did know me, you certainly wouldn't find anything lovable.

Whoa whoa, hey now. Back the truck up. You really expect me to believe you would die for me? 

I told you, you don't know me. You wouldn't do that. 

What? You're saying you already did? 

That can't be right... you must be lying.

No? Well then... prove it!

Faith? What has faith got to do with it? 

Look, I don't know why you are so convinced you "love" me, let alone think you care enough to "die" on my behalf... but hey, if we go our separate ways, we can pretend this whole thing never happened. I'm willing to forget this conversation if you are.

Pssh, too scared to accept your unconditional love? Darn right I am! Why should I believe someone who claims to love me? Do you know how many people have said that to me and then BAM, I'm left in the cold the very next day! No sir, if I accept your so-called "love", it'll just be a heartbreak timebomb ticking down until you too decide you don't want me.

...You're different you say? Different how?

So, let me get this straight. If I hurt you, you're not going to hold it against me. You're just going to up and forgive me?

...And if I run away, you're just going to wait as long as it takes, even if it means months OR years, and you're just going to take me back without judgment?

Sounds too good to be true. How do I know you are for real?

Your hands? Why should I feel your hands?

Trust you! Just a minute ago I didn't even know who you were. But fine... give me your hands... I don't see what the big deal is. 

Wait, where did these holes come from? 

Nails?! What on earth were nails doing in your hands?

Oh.

(pause.)

.....You really meant it, didn't you? All of it?

You know me.

You love me.

You died for me.

You died for me, because you know me, and love me.

Wow.

You know, I know you know all this about me... but, well, I guess I don't know that much about you. But.... I'd like to. Can we walk together?



I wrote that monologue a while ago, because I feel like in my life, I have this repetitive cycle with God. See, I finally get to a point where I can grasp with my human mind that He loves me, and He knows me, and He is okay with where I am at as long as I'm striving for Him. But then something happens, and I stop striving, and I fall into the mindset of not being good enough for God. Not being worthy enough.

I already am not worthy. I will always be unworthy. But I literally allow myself to struggled and be bogged down with my unworthiness until He finally breaks through the wall I have built out my pride and my shame and my constant need for control of my own life and shows me... I am not sufficient, but His love and grace are sufficient for me. It's these moments that I see that He doesn't need me, it is I who need Him. 

And who I am to turn God's gift of grace down? How could I stand in the presence of the One who gave it all for me, and give nothing to Him? It's so incredible to me, how much He loves. Just how much He gives.

I am learning. I know I have hurt people when I hit my "not good enough" mindset, because I don't humble myself, and instead I cast people out because I don't feel worthy enough. I hurt people because I lash out with my own frustrations in order that I may hide my own shame. Satan relishes trapping me in that place.

But God has burst through, for the Light always overcomes the darkness.