I prayed as I tied the laces together,
Bowing my head over the red converse.
They were not shoes anymore, in my mind.
Only a promise.

A testament that no hand other than Gods’
Could untie the knot chucked high in the trees.

They hung dismally, striving for the ground,
Toward earthly things.

The plan He knitted in the womb, His providence,
Lay over the thread, cinching it together and
Aloft towards the heavens, until it was time
For Him to Untie me.

The fragility of my heart
Was pressed into a thinly
Chained locket, grown
Pale and tarnished
In the hands
Of all those who 

Thought they knew me.

They tried to pry me open,
Breaking their nails in
The attempt to
Find the one thing
That kept their words
From hurting me.

But if they opened the
Heart-shaped cavity, they

Would find only the
Emptiness that reminded
Me of the world’s promises
And their futility.

A necklace of the World
Could not hold the Love
God had threaded into
My heart for eternity.

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.

My heart is so deep
In Jesus
That anyone searching
For me,
Must find Him.

I felt the power
Of the disappointment,

And the resentment,
And the emptiness,
Slowly dissipate.
The Holy Spirit
Overshadowed it all
And took a deep breath
In my chest.

My patience was a yellow, rusted truck
Running low on fuel and puffing a cloud
Of smoke behind it as it rattled down
The road.

My frustration was the click click click
Of my blinker, and the flashing light
Reminding me to change my oil.

I drove circles around this town,
Following a route I had mapped out
In my head--but I failed to see how
It only enforced the anxiety of
My heart, mirrored in the clattering

Of my truck’s engine.

I fell behind in my navigating,
Missing lights as ambulances rushed
Past, disrupting the rigid routine
I liked because of its familiarity.

One day, as I reached for the handle
Of the failing trajectory of my life, yellow
Yet sad in the morning light, a man
Brighter than any paint color, walked
Up to me and extended his hand.

“This is not the plan I have for you.”
He said. “Come to me, for I will
Give you rest.”

It was too good to be true—
How could I trust a man promising
The world?

Yet, that is where I was wrong.
He was not offering the world,
But eternal life and love in the
Wholeness of His image.

I let my arm drop to my side,
Away from the smoking lump
Of my car, and felt the earnestness
Of His expression.

Forgetting the yellow frame beside me,
I took His hand, and began to walk,
The swaying of the leaves suddenly
Peaceful, and the rushing of the cars
Humming gracefully.

Everything that was a source of anxiety,
Faded into the background, and I felt only
The point of contact between me
And my Savior.

The chains cinched tighter
Around my wrists.
I felt them dig into my ankles,
And my blood grow hot
In my throat.
But my mind was clear—
Sinking deeply into a soft,
Pastel embrace.
I was in my faith.
Jesus held me, his promises
Forming a warm wall
Around my soul.
I let go of the outward pain,
Knowing no one
Could touch me here.