A poem God gave me in quiet time with Him today:
The Big Mess
January 25, 2009
as I reflected on how much I’ve messed up my life
It started as I worked on it, and what I thought I saw
It wasn’t much . . . well, maybe just . . . I thought it was a tiny flaw
I picked and poked determined that perfection was the goal
And then I realized all at once, my finger had made a hole.
I tried to make it better. I tried with all my might
But as I worked a little more, the flaw became a blight.
Now frantically I tried to fix the problems I had caused
Until in pieces there it laid and finally I paused
Now slowly I approach Your throne with only my big mess
I’d hoped to give what You deserve, a thing of loveliness
I lay it down before you, and mumble in my shame
It’s all I have, this giant heap, and for it I’m to blame
I wait, the quiet moments scream. I wonder if you heard
Fix it? I think but still you sit there saying not a word.
I look to You, impatience floods the recess of my soul
I wonder if you love enough to make my mess a whole
I look to you, and see you looking not at all the rubble
For just a second I am calmed that on your face there is no trouble
But then I say to You, “Will you not help me with all this?”
Why did you give me useless tools and let it all go so amiss?”
I wait and wait . . . it seems like days . . . to see what you will do
I know that I deserve to be sent out. I just blamed my big mess on You!
But as I start to watch Your face, I see there something more
It’s not at all what I expect: disgust, rejection, something more.
Instead I see compassion, concern for me—and love?
I see You open arms up wide, and beckon me above
I slowly feel my feet begin to move up toward Your side.
I feel your arms embrace me. I feel the tears you’ve cried.
I watch, You look me in the face, I hear Your tenderness
My child, don’t you understand I care not for the mess
But you, my love, you are my bride! What hurts you hurts me too!
So I will fix this mess you’ve made, but first I must fix you.
And as I melt into His love, frustrations disappear
My life finds meaning all because Beloved drew me near.
And what I have to show for it to those who gather ‘round
Means nothing, but His love for me will dazzle and astound.
And all the messes I have made will fade to nothingness
And I will give Him what He wants—my adoration to profess.
copyright 2009
