Broken Creation

I am a broken creation,
living and choosing with past information,
informing my actions with skills I’ve learned
that have seen me through before.

Reacting to the dangers I can manage,
relying on myself to find the safety in the passage.

And I know this part;
it once gripped my heart
in a cage of fear and shame,
but I’m still here now
by knowing how
to control,
and dodge,
and blame.

But it’s not enough. There must be more.

We’re taught to accept the grace of Christ
and ask the Spirit into our hearts.
To try to live as Jesus did,
to try to play the part
and follow on the path he laid
when the price for our sins yet to come was paid.

The chaotic waves before me now,
my own violent wake behind,
there is no path here to find.
The turmoil of the world about
has erased all signs of his route.

Calm the storm, Lord,
save me from the chaos without…
and from that within.
Come, Lord Jesus, join me in
this frantic flight from sin.

I know You’re with me in this place,
and still…
I cannot see Your face.

I need this Spirit in me,
this holy intercessor,
commanding me onward, armed with Your word,
dispatching my oppressors.

This Spirit has bigger plans for me
than “getting by” and “surviving”.

It’s striving for my soul,
the very part of me that wants to
control the threats I face.
That instinctive part that desperately wants
to repeat my narrow escape.

This spirit here would lead me clear
of the danger and foes that surround me now,
if only I could learn to trust
that it really knows what it’s talking about.

The promises dangled so enticingly
before a tortured soul,
of peace,
and hope,
and rest,
He says are mine to accept.

And all that’s required is the simplest request.

And yet… He wants more.

He doesn’t want to sit and console,
though He’s happy to play that part.
He’s here to steer this wandering bark
if I’ll let him have the helm,
and still,

I’m overwhelmed.

Those rocks ahead, I’ve seen them before,
heard tales of fear and dread:
of ships once lost,
crews once tossed
then thrown into the sea.

I’m rushing in,
for I know the tricks of my trade.

Folklore and skill undoubtedly will
see me safely through…
with my hand upon the till.

so, moment by moment I fail.
hourly, I repent,
my energy spent in this eternal cycle.

Forgive me my sins,
though I’ll do it again
if deemed vital to my survival.

I cling to this tattered rope of a line…
towing my past behind the craft,
unwilling to cut it loose,
but it’s dragging me down,

and You tell me again

it’s nothing but a noose.

You want me to sever my ties to the way
that I used to get by without You.
To confess that You’re my sole source of grace,
and nothing can save me but You.

To know that all that happened before
is no more than a stepping stone to You,
and what comes to pass will eternally last.
That’s something my dreams could never do.

I’m trying, Lord,
every blessing You’ve poured,

just reminds me over and over again
that none of it is deserved.

You’ve offered it all,
and I’ve smiled and nodded,
politely applauded
how wonderful it must be…

but You’ve seen my heart,
so surely You know
I could never play the part
as convincingly as You’d like,

You see,

I’m only me.

You want so much.

Yet you say that I am enough.

So I’ll rest now,
confident to see You take control.
The waves subside and peace rolls in
and swamps my soggy soul.

The salt and brine are rinsed away,
washed clean in the pure sweet spring.

and looking back on where we’ve been,
though the waves follow close behind,

Your course runs true,
Your hand is sure,

so I’ll heft this knife,
sever that line,
and drop the dead weight of My Way.

I pray that it’s enough.

When the storms return,
as I know they will,
the panic will set in.

I’ll lunge to the side,
where my line was once tied
and my heart will sink when I realize;

how could I leave myself so exposed?

Where can I turn to find the repose
that once I could call on demand?

Wake up, my Lord,
the storm returns.
Please come save me all over again.

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