Ransom

Jesus,

I find you in that place, when all I can do is stay silent

For fear of interrupting you with

Mountains of words,

Formed from mountains of hurts.

I speak, yet you remain silent.

I breathe a heavy sigh and deliver myself into the hands of violent men.

In the deluge, I can barely make out your whisper.

Oh, but God, I am helplessly sewn to my insecurities,

Just as much as I am tethered to the ones I love,

Tied to their own disabilities and we,

Stitched together,

 Call ourselves a family,

That body which day by day would usher you back to Calvary.

And our body breaks and it bleeds under the weight of its own inconsistencies!

But Jesus, I know (with terror)

That you are the only consistent thing in me,

And that you are big enough to cover all of my terrible tragedies,

Strong enough to cover all of my deficiencies!

Am I just screaming hopeful pleas through waves of irrelevancy?

My jealously might be the death of me,

Down in a dark pit bored out of my pride and self sufficiency.

MY SELF SUFFICIENCY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME!

And I know that I cannot function in solitude.

I beg to search for others,

But all I see is you.

And if I am honest with myself,

My intentionality is lost on my own mortality.

My gentleness dismantled by selfish brutality.

Oh, but REDEMPTION comes through broken hearts,

The millstone around our necks loosened under the agonizing grip of Christ,

In full submission to a will we can’t always see

(but nonetheless does not revolve around me.)

No longer tethered to our deaths, we float to the surface as thought we were one.

Beat up, broken, bruised, but not completely undone.

The ransom for my life was so much bigger than me.

The price you paid was over my head in a storm-tossed and violent sea.

As I struggled through the depths you told me to let go.

And I cringed at the thought of trusting the One I believed had abandoned me,

I clung to my petty gods and abandoned the thought of the One who could free me.

Oh Jesus, believe me,

I need you desperately.

Save me.

“To Christ, who won for sinners grace, by bitter grief and anguish sore, be praise from all the ransomed race, forever and forever more.”

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Author: panicpreacherpanic

I am not good.

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