This pain is not forever.
It will pass away in time, as
seasons change.
It will be healed,
touched by the one who
tasted death on our behalf.
Or it will be taken away
one day in glory,
when eternity outshines time.
We cannot now say which it will be,
but we can be certain of
its end, and
its redemption.
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
My mind disfigured your face in my mind,
Painted piercing eyes, uncompassionate,
Shaming, in place of those you said I’d find.
My view of you and you were disparate
Persons, known too well and not well enough.
“You” imposed a self-imposed prison cell,
Held hopeless standards, always called my bluff.
I was always guilty, not free, unwell.
Thus I assumed from this false gospel, lie
Of law’s freedom. Truth is not so broken.
You are love. Your yoke brings rest, peace, a sigh
Of relief, rooted in words you’ve spoken:
“I have overcome the world.” Now I see
Your overcoming work extends to me.
Photo by Jaleel Akbash on Unsplash
A season for the memory of birth
Against the backdrop of a world of death.
A promised king of everlasting worth
In swaddling cloths, now taking his first breath.
A season for the sparkling of light
In contrast to the darkness of these days,
Reflections of the angel’s sign that night,
The hope of rest beyond all holidays.
A season for the fellowship of friends,
For reconciling wrongs and all division,
All rooted in the love that never ends
And growing up into the heav’nly vision.
A season for the change of old to new.
A season for the stories ringing true.
Photo by Wesley Tingey on Unsplash
The Lord who is my shepherd knows my path.
When I was lost in darkness, he was there
With purposes of love and not of wrath,
Compassionate and kind and full of care.
He knew how long the wandering would last
And all that would be lost along the way.
He sets all seasons—future, present, past—
Sustaining through the night, bringing the day.
Our Lord is always working, always good,
Always aware of us, our faults, our haste.
Before him, we are always understood,
And with him, there is never any waste.
We make our messes. He is not surprised.
His purposes will still be realized.
Photo by Lili Popper on Unsplash
When you grow anxious at the sense of haste
Accomp’nying the work that you must do
And worry all your work will be a waste,
You overlook some truths that still hold true.
Your urgent need in urgency is peace
Found not in ragged running but in rest.
Responsibility includes release
Of self and circumstances. God knows best.
And so you must walk slowly, taking time
As if it is a gift and not a curse,
And find your joy within the steady climb,
Steadfast should things grow better or grow worse.
The times you feel most restless, then be still,
Held by the God who rests and his good will.
Photo by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash
I thought I knew you well. Was I mistaken?
I wonder now if I could ever see,
For ev’rything I thought I knew was shaken.
Perhaps the one I did not know was me.
Photo by Sandra Seitamaa on Unsplash
God said, “Let there be light,” and so it was.
And thus it has continued to this day.
Night threatens darkness, but it never does
Persist. The deepest shadow fades away.
God said, “Let there be Light.” A Son was born,
And truth and beauty shone throughout the land.
Self-blinded men loved death, but still the morn
Arrived. Christ rose and raised dry bones to stand.
God said, “Let there be light,” and I could see
As love cut through all lies with things more true.
My love is weak. He knows and still calls me
His own. The old has passed, and I am new.
We have this hope when grieved by present pains:
When God shines light in darkness, light remains.
When I look back, I do not see successes.
At least, I do not see them easily.
Instead, I see a mind that second-guesses
And find that failure fits more feasibly.
When I look back, I do not see your mercies,
Or seeing them, still feel they are not true.
All good seems covered up in controversies,
In all the ways I failed and still fail you.
When I look back, I see the circumstances
That roll like waves across a wind-swept sea.
I do not see the Son, the second-chances,
The grace that still abounds for those like me.
When I look back, I must distrust the lies
That claim truth is determined by my eyes.
Photo by Will Swann on Unsplash
When we look back, what do we see,
The trial or the triumph, he
Who wounds or he who heals, the sea
And storm or the safe passage through?
We need to see them both as true
Components of our lives with you.
Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash
I fear you are a disappointed Father,
For I am just an ever-failing son.
My life should be a blessing, not a bother.
I should be held together, not undone.
O Lord, correct my misconceptions of you
And all my misconceptions of myself.
Help me to truly know you and to love you
And in so doing know and love myself.
Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
I remember feeling off the morning I originally posted this poem. I went for a run to try to shake the feeling, but it wouldn’t fade. I thought I needed to take the poem down, so I did, then I didn’t post on the blog again until July 22, 2022, over a year later.
Shortly after I started posting again, I started thinking about finding this poem and sharing it. Now that I know it was OCD leading me to take it down initially, I feel free to share it. And as I read it now, I see two things of interest. First, I see a snapshot of my mind and heart in the early stages of an OCD flareup. I’d already hurt and confused some friends, and I was struggling to make sense of life in the midst of a difficult and busy season. While this was not written during the worst of my experiences, the first stanza here captures my thoughts and feelings during the struggle pretty well.
Second, I see a prayer that I believe God has answered, one that he’s continuing to answer as I continue to learn and grow in my walk with him. While things would get worse before they got better, God used the journey to reveal some underlying issues that needed to be addressed. He was at work through the entire season, and through the processing and work done with a mentor, he’s taught me more about himself and about myself. I believe I now can recognize many of the misconceptions about God and about myself that I lived with for years, and I now believe I can better know and love him and myself. I think God’s answered this prayer in ways I couldn’t have imagined when I wrote it.
When I read this poem, I see evidence of God’s grace. He saw me at my worst. He heard my prayer. He delivered me. This is the story told by all who know him, the story presented in the Bible and echoing on for all eternity. The Lord saves. Blessed be his name.
as i learn to walk 