Last “prosetry” piece. This one’s definitely just prose thoughts instead of a rhyming rhythm like the first “prosetry” piece I posted. This comes from a time when my wife and I were evaluating a lot of the things we’d believed — not questioning our core faith doctrines, but a lot of the particular “flavor” of Christianity that we had been pursuing for years. It started to seem like some of what our churches said was incredibly important actually wasn’t, and how we had been taught to go after our faith (or perhaps how we chose to go after it) seemed more painful and misguided than powerful and beneficial. For me, this was a bit of “I want to make sure I get the basics right.”
I’m desperate to know what You see in me; what You believe I can be. I’m desperate to live up to Your standard, like a child wanting to be like his father; only I try a little too hard sometimes… and sometimes I don’t try at all.
I’m desperate to be approved, to be holy, a vessel You can use. Only I don’t like the path I’d have to take to get there. Isn’t there a shortcut I can follow… perhaps go from ministering to resurrection while skipping the part about a cross. Then I’d have no part in You. I’m desperate to have part in You.
And though it’s deemed incorrect to say it, I feel defeated, weary, maybe broken… though I don’t know what that means. I only know that I can’t turn my back, and I can’t stay here… but I’m afraid to move on.
What more must I face? Haven’t I done enough? Well, it’s not works that save me. Haven’t I believed enough, then? I don’t really know what to believe sometimes.
All I can do is follow, and I don’t even do that very well. But here I am, walking after You on this narrow road that some time ends in Heaven. And I see that sanctification isn’t as fun as it sounded when the preacher shouted “Hallelujah” and the music played. But it’s in this place that You do Your work, and it hurts to see flesh die. But it hurts to see flesh live.
So I walk down this lonely road, desperate to take my foot off this jagged stone and lay it down on streets of gold.