Once I was dead. But You found me and made me alive. I came up, like a miner from the underground, squinting at the suddenness of light. You washed me in blood, healed the sickness of shame, and convinced me of love. So much. You’ve done so much. I see it. Mostly in glances stolen from my intent stare at me, and what still needs to be done.
Me. Desperately clinging to You. That’s my hand with a death grip on the hem of Your robe. Me. Hiding behind You from an enemy I couldn’t see, but knew was there, calling for my destruction. Me. Trying to keep my feet in line with Yours. Touching Your scars in wonder. Not caring that I was still a mess. Just wanting, needing to stay close, to listen intently, to watch Your every movement. Me. Wanting You with everything in me.
I saw it and remembered. Desperation. Adoration. Unquenchable love.
I saw it and a prayer formed, rushing into me like brand new breath.
Oh God. Leave me broken.
Help me walk straight, but leave me with a limp. I need to need grace.
Train my hands for war. Make them strong enough to grip Your hand, but leave them too weak to hold my own life.
Help me walk with confidence and authority, but with enough insecurity to keep me hiding behind You.
Give my eyes vision, but keep it dim so that I don’t look past You.
Heal my heart, but leave it aching for those who still need to be convinced of love.
Once I was dead. But You found me and You made me alive…washed me in blood, healed the sickness of shame, and convinced me of love.
Don’t stop. Refine me. Restore me. Baptize me with fire. Revive me. Make me whole.
Just leave me broken.