I just found this poem I wrote back in 2006. I typically do not write poems, but this one was written out of sincere repentance for some cheap choices I had made and a desire to really allow God to speak truth into my frustrated soul.
I Find Myself at the Cross
Crawling back to the cross.
Finding myself broken, bleeding and bruised.
Guilt is heavy and shame is present.
Confusion of who I am seeps throughout the cage of my mind.
I blame only myself for the state I am in.
This prison is cold.
I cry out for more of You.
I cry out for you to consume every ounce of my being.
I cry out and walk away.
Crawling back to the cross.
Still broken, still bleeding, still bruised.
I am weary from the battle.
The battle that I was never meant to fight.
I am a soldier, a soldier enrolled in the army of "self".
Crawling back to the cross.
Where are You?
Who am I?
Knowing you are capable, but still asking the question,
"Can You fix me?"
Kneeling at the cross
Realizing guilt and shame are inferior.
Knowing, I am your child takes precedence.
I repent. You receive me.
This cross is where I find You.
I cry out for more of You.
Looking at the cross where,
You were broken, You were bleeding and You were bruised.
You fought the battle.
You won the battle.
A battle that I don't have to fight.
Just a victory I have to continually believe in.
Indeed, I am a soldier.
A soldier enlisted in the army of One.
Standing at the cross.
You are here with me.
I am your child, a child you promised never to forsake...no matter what I do.
Standing at the cross.
Victory!
Victory!
Victory!
I find myself at the cross.
I Find Myself at the Cross
Crawling back to the cross.
Finding myself broken, bleeding and bruised.
Guilt is heavy and shame is present.
Confusion of who I am seeps throughout the cage of my mind.
I blame only myself for the state I am in.
This prison is cold.
I cry out for more of You.
I cry out for you to consume every ounce of my being.
I cry out and walk away.
Crawling back to the cross.
Still broken, still bleeding, still bruised.
I am weary from the battle.
The battle that I was never meant to fight.
I am a soldier, a soldier enrolled in the army of "self".
Crawling back to the cross.
Where are You?
Who am I?
Knowing you are capable, but still asking the question,
"Can You fix me?"
Kneeling at the cross
Realizing guilt and shame are inferior.
Knowing, I am your child takes precedence.
I repent. You receive me.
This cross is where I find You.
I cry out for more of You.
Looking at the cross where,
You were broken, You were bleeding and You were bruised.
You fought the battle.
You won the battle.
A battle that I don't have to fight.
Just a victory I have to continually believe in.
Indeed, I am a soldier.
A soldier enlisted in the army of One.
Standing at the cross.
You are here with me.
I am your child, a child you promised never to forsake...no matter what I do.
Standing at the cross.
Victory!
Victory!
Victory!
I find myself at the cross.
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