At His Feet

I’m a stranger in many spaces.

With culture, family, and friends

determining my identity for the day.

Constantly molded by people who were well meaning

and others not so much.

The more I yearn to belong,

the more I become lost in the crowd.

My eyes fall first.

My body follows suit.

My mind — a space warring within itself

slowly enslaved by fleeting feelings and various vanities.

Every blind and desperate step taken to get out,

only further hollows my heart.

Fear engulfs me

and I am a puppet, a shell, miserable.

Hiding behind meaningless achievements and blind

obedience

while battling a consuming, isolating darkness.

I just want to go back... back home.

A crisis of faith.

The space between You and me feels so far.

What stops me from coming to You?

I stare in the mirror, face to face.

Who is this person?

When did I become so broken?

Does anyone notice?

Why should anyone care?

I am mist.

Here today and gone tomorrow. Merely passing

through.

Why do you still call out despite everything I’ve done,

despite never responding. I know You are God,

but there’s so much going on in the space within and around.

How can I find You as I’m here shuffling through this crowd?

You bring little things to memory.

The much needed vacations near the sea — His unchanging

character

The random acts of kindness from strangers — His sufficient grace.

You give me everything I need but I manage to mess it up, time

and time again.

Yet in confronting all my deficiencies,

I’ve seen how You strengthen and help me as I stumble in darkness.

How You pick me up each time I fall.

How You remind me that I’m not forgotten.

Even with the way I am

You still want me to come?

the old hymn plays in my head.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus,”

Even though I have nothing to give,

You still paid the price —

bled and died on a cross for me —

the ultimate sacrifice.

I take my chances and lift up my head – our eyes meet.

The taunts of the crowd don’t fade away

“Stupid...Prostitute...Ugly...Sinner!”

They intensify.

Defining me by my waning abilities,

calling me cruel names

I have long grown accustomed to.

Then You call my name.

Though a soft whisper,

I hear it clearly.

A new desire consumes me.

Just to live in your shadow,

to be held in Your arms,

comforted beyond every sorrow,

all that matters is that You are mine,

and I am Yours.

I know who I am because You utterly define me.

You draw me closer until we are one space.

At that moment, this is the only place I want to be

Each space I built and all the protests I made

though lost to time they were never lost to You.

You kept every tear I’ve cried – every single one of them.

Every hair on my head – unruly as they are

You numbered them all.

You ordered every step I’ve taken.

You watched over me before I was.

You are greater than Sunday mornings

and not limited to churches made by human hands.

I don’t know when or how I got here

but somehow I’m on my knees.

I don’t hear the crowd’s cries anymore,

and the tears in my eyes blur them out.

No longer lost — I’m forgiven.

Faith makes the way clear.

Finally, in this space, at the feet of Jesus — I’m home.