We must know God
To reflect Him.
Or else we will accept
The warped circus
Mirrors’ interpretation.

The question of how to communicate
Has always plagued me.

I once knew, when I was little, before
People called me bossy.

But I slowly unlearned, thinking that
Timidity was preferable.

It was more acceptable to society
For my words to fumble.

But why is that? Why are words so
Feared when truthful?

Can we not simply speak our minds,
Refusing to sugarcoat?

I have always thought the sugary rim
Of a glass too bitter.

It leaves a sour taste in my mouth,
Resembling a sweet lie.

How do we learn to communicate
Properly, when forever
Serving frosting off sharp knives?

I watch my fingers curl up
As if they do not know
How to lay flat, relaxed.
I am a strung bow,
Pulled back and taut,
Wincing at the arrow
I constantly hold—
When can I let go? 

When will my stare
Stop swerving from
The target? Nothing
Less than the bullseye
Will do, but exhaustion
Tears at me, causing
My hands to warble
Farther and farther
From what I intend

To reach--the goal
I cannot see myself
Achieving anymore.

A whisper in the leaves,
A plea on lips
Caught in a transitory
Moment.
“Make me more like You.”
Lord, make me Love.
Make me Joy, Peace.
Make me Compassion
And Grace.
All that You are—
All You made me to be,
Make me.

I fell at the feet
Of an old, peeling
Altar.
The stone was
Unremarkable
& still.
Yet behind it
Stood the man
Of Grace
And Love.  
I could not see
Him, nor hear
His voice.
Only I knew He
Was there.
He walked around
The pedestal and
Crouched
Beside me, holding
Out His steady hands
To catch
The falling tears
That dripped from
My prayers.

A screeching train
reminiscent of an owl
And a screaming child
strands of experiences
All tangled together

With every kindness I dispensed,
I pocketed another golden ticket,
Collecting them in a small,
Unassuming piggy bank of who
I thought I was.

“It is by grace you have been saved,
Not by works.”

I nodded numbly as the words
Siphoned through my head, well-meaning,
But never finding a proper home.

I was only who I made others
Believe I was.

I smiled as I counted my golden tickets,
Knowing, one day, I would turn them in
For a reward.

“Daughter, your faith has healed you.”

My heart was slow as my faith
Overwhelmed the logic
Of the world.

I tossed out the tickets one by one,
Knowing that becoming Christ,
Becoming Love Himself,
Was not measurable.

God would not judge me from behind
An arcade counter.

I dropped the joy I had gained
From glorifying myself,
And sat in silence,
Surrounded by the Reward
Of knowing Jesus Christ alone.

I would sit with the stubbornness of a child
Dragging down my face, a question on my lips,
“Who was Jesus? How did he save us?”

I only received scoffs in return,
Disbelief as busy adults said “What did he do?
Be serious.”
They never understood that I was.

Unaware of His presence and His love,
I curled into myself, wondering why I always
Failed at satisfying the standard I had
Carefully constructed in my head—
It turned out, I was only waiting
For God's perfect timing.

It was slow--a sluggish trial
Of Him holding out his hand, and mine
Hovering tentatively, not fully convinced.
But He spoke through those around me,
He filled the emptiness I had walked around with
Like a book with blank pages, chapters filled in
At the binding. He gave me a community,
Something that was completely unfamiliar
And alien considering the isolation I was so
Accustomed with. Gradually, I turned to face Him.
I talked to Him under rain-soaked trees and rooms
Infused with the fear of darkness, and He offered
The resolute peace of His love and guidance—

I will never forget the day of extended worship,
One voice flowing through the music, settling
Itself in my heart as I stood alcoved in a hallway,
A borrowed guitar clutched close & eyes full of tears
I was suddenly becoming unafraid of. That anxiety,
That defining phobia of never being enough,
He began to heal as I took His hand and let Him
Give me the strength to persevere through
Something
 I didn’t believe myself capable of.

In that moment, leading up to it, and even now,
When I know there is so much left for Him
To teach me, I feel the unburdening weight
Of his purpose for me—His sovereignty
Over the life I tried to control, year
After year, with my own understanding.

I will never know everything, but I finally

Comprehend what Jesus did for me--
And that knowledge continues
To motivate everything I am,
A daughter of God, into pursuing
An eternal relationship with Him,
Unhindered by my self-righteousness
And fear of failing to fulfill his plan.

Jesus truly is Everything.

I sat back with a breath,
Folding my hands as if
I had just wiped them
And the corners of my
Mouth.

I had resigned. It was
None of my business
Anymore.
I realized how full I felt
With the empty plate
Now before me, waiting
For something new to
Decorate it.
It would be colorful.
New and unexpected,
Alive.

The fleeting touch
of skin.

The intimacy
of a shared glance.

The simple love
of an unprompted
kindness.

Yet, nothing could
compare with
His grace.

I held my throat
With a longing hand,
Searching for the voice
That was missing. 

All this time,
I had been speaking
The words of the world,
Instead of relying on
Those of God.
I warped my tongue
To fit the whims of those
Around me, but in
Doing so, I
Prohibited Him
From speaking
Through
Me.

It hurts my mind
To slow.
My legs creak
And whine
As I move to sit.
Broiled pain
Lidded by activity—
I could smile
And smile, only my
Need calls
And sits me down
With gentle
Hands: Love, stop
And pray.

Together but separate—
A tide lapping the shoreline,
A bundle of strangers on a bus,
The screaming voices of a crowd,
Loved ones over a distance,
Brothers and Sisters in Christ,
One body,
Creation uniquely molded
For the roles
Modeled by the Trinity.

“Why can’t I feel it, Lord?”
He leans back in my chest,
A sigh, a tilt of the head,
The firelight gentle as it
Glazes the side of His face.
“Are you looking for My love,
   Or a feeling you already know?”

I searched the city streets,
The gum-strewn sidewalk
And the hurrying people
With downturned eyes.

I searched the rainforest,
The ropes in the trees and
The family that lived too far
For frequent phone calls.

I walked the corners of my
House, wondering if my
Horizons were too wide—
But that was not the problem.

I searched the air in metal birds,
Looking for meaning in the
Formation of the stars, knowing,
Somewhere, I must belong.

I searched for a place to
Fill my heart and make it
Heavy with joy instead of
Sadness and leadweight loss.

I searched and I searched,
Over fairy moss hills and
Through low valleyways,
Above the towering treetops.

No matter how far or wide
I walked, my heart always
Longed for a home this earth
Could never provide.

I folded my legs under me,
Blocking out the beauty of
All I wished could fulfill,
And prayed to my Father.

His presence was the only
True home I would ever have.
Is that why it was so hard to
Live here, in this life?

A distorted identity card,
A deck of Queens and Kings,
Among whom we have made
ourselves the Joker.

progress only feels like
the past i am giving
up on

The robe was borrowed,
Stitched to my skin—
I tried to rip it away,
And wear one of my
Own choosing—
Only the thread was
Made of love, giving
Me pain to ultimately
Save me from the folly
Of wearing my own
Righteousness—