The Truth

The voices hiss

The dreaded truth

Love absent.

“You’re not worthy of His love or attention.

You’re not good enough for Him to use.

You mess up everything you touch.

You pridefully speak.

When you die, it will be a relief.

No one needs you.

Everyone just uses you.

There is nothing you can do to fix yourself.

You’re not good enough.”

The words weave the thread around my heart.

Each truth squeezes.

Each truth constricts.

Each word lacking love

Lacking grace.

Where are you God?

I need You!

I need You!

I need You!

In the shower, the water washes away the sweat.

In the shower,

I cry.

I weep.

I mourn the death of my pride.

I beg, take this pain.

It is too heavy.

The truth hurts too much.

He whispers.

I listen.

I hear.

“I am here.

I am yours.

I am enough.

Be willing.

Be usable.”

I admit, “I am not enough,

But He is.

I am not good enough,

But He is.

I will mess every word, every action every thought up,

But He won’t.

When I die, I do not want to be remembered for what I have done,

But what He has done through me.

Though others use me,

He does too.

Fixing anything about me is out of the question,

But He is still willing to use this broken, slow girl.

I am willing as long as He is.”

~September 26, 2010

Drawn 7/29/1991


About bethanyswanson

I am a Christ follower, wife, mother, writer, teacher, artist, cook, sister, daughter, grand-daughter, friend, laundry lady, house keeper, taxi service, sensory of movies and tv, and work in progress.
This entry was posted in Art of the Home, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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