I am a failure, frankly.
How many times can you cry for mercy, before your creator withdraws the ground from underneath your feet? How long until he snaps your spine, how many grievances until he says goodbye? And in the immensity of his arms, I look for a release. I look through the spaces, the tiny gaps that tear me through the warm welcome of infinity. I search for a way out of his presence. I pursue the sin that soaks and sinks through my entire body. I come to him trembling in my ravenous repetition, crying for him to reconfigure my soul. But it is my endeavor.
I am with myself again in this mess. Ready to reprogram my spirit. Picking up the pieces for smashing my own soul, commiserating my own catastrophe, allowing God no part in what I’ve done. How do I untangle the sin that blinds, binds, intertwines me with this world? How do I break free? Why does it suffocate, stifle, hinder…growing and infecting, poisoning the helpless vulnerable heart. Why…does it leave me wretched and wasteful, hopeless and unhappy, screaming defeated yet again. How do I overcome these heinous hurdles, those vines and thorns that control and puncture pure flesh, that keep me tied down to this never-ending mess!
How…can he love me regardless? And the fact that I throw that all away when I give in to this world. A mind unable to fathom what it does not contain. That his love could swallow the world’s transgressions…and there he is ready to enclose me, whole…to absorb me with my sour taste, to stomach me although base.
I reach, I find the answers to my questions. I’m scared I cannot stay long without looking for those cracks, those chasms that make me fall so deep and so wide…But I know…but I know…
…In his arms I am emancipated.