Teaching Grace

I wake up to a buzzing phone.

Not as incessant as bees or flies,

but persistent enough to pull

my attention open for this day’s

arrival.

I scan the screen,

the familiar greeting of an old friend

capturing my gaze.

Hey

I echo back this sentiment

we’ve traded over times

both unsure & joyous.

I can’t help wondering why

she has been compelled to talk to me.

Day after day

I find my words becoming

Your name,

how overwhelming Your love

touches the timidest souls —

mine always coiling the tiniest bit

at the thought I deserve this.

I want to tell her this.

I want to make these key strokes

matter more than this stale hey

we let dictate our conversations

open-ended topics of football, resumes, etc.

I won’t hide this truth:

I don’t understand why.

How.

What.

When.

You will show Yourself.

I’m sorry I become hasty,

despairing because I know she’s lonely.

And there have been days

I have felt caring hands take

hold off of me.

I cried, doesn’t anyone love me?

As me?

I’m in a hurry

to rush her into welcoming arms,

hoping, wishing, pleading change

will come break her open.

A floodgate of tears falling

one
two
three
four
five
six
seven

again

again

A gain-

finding You standing by,

never changing,

unlike my moods

or footsteps pointing

to, then away from helpful.

Have mercy on me.

I was not born with Savior as my title.

She belongs to You.

As I do.

I only long to give her friendship,

though thank you may never come.

I’m sorry I’ve demanded such a request,

when I struggle expressing my gratitude for Your death,

so I could aptly name the salty taste

found on my quivering lips as I speak,

Beloved.

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7 thoughts on “Teaching Grace

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