Tracking in Dirt

I used to think that I needed to give myself the grace to be young
But I'm slowly realizing that I need to give myself the grace to be human
I am allowed to have scraped knees
from falling in love with the ways of this world
And chapped lips from speaking words of disdain
I do not serve a God of bandaids and lip balm
but a God of 2nd and 5th and 27th chances

I've always been my own worst critic
and in some ways that's kept me humble
But it also has become an infinite checklist of errors
etched into handheld mirrors
Only seeing imperfection where my Creator stitched creation into my skin
Wonderfully and fearfully made
I think I've always feared letting people down
Pretending that the spaces between my fingers were nets
made to catch people's expectations
He's got the whole world in His hands
But I certainly do not

You wouldn't think that walking on eggshells is painful
or plucking off flower petals is dangerous
or filling hourglasses with sand is mildly terrifying
But it is
I've spent far too long wishing away sand
I am learning to wait, to settle into joy
Because all I've ever been shown of forever are promises like windows
Seeming so clear but suddenly shattered by baseballs and a change of heart

And yet You tell me that I am Yours forever
A child of wishing well love
Washed clean by buckets and buckets of grace
I am allowed to be caged in by my own misconceptions
To track in dirt from the places I've walked home from
To hide under my covers until my cheeks are red and my heart is heavy
You did not come to cover up my stories
You came to save all the almosts and should-have-beens
I am allowed to always be running after an answer, an alleluia, an Amen

Messy Restoration

Breaking bread and breaking chains
Your fingerprints are even more visible amongst the dirt and the grime
Your name alone washes away and wipes clean
Even in the darkest of corners, forgotten nooks and
seemingly hidden spaces that everyone else ignores
Spiderwebs that linger even after the spiders are gone
And yet we're afraid because we know the past and we can't see the future
Barriers meant to protect and yet all they do is hold in
creating reliance and necessity amongst the depravity

Drink this cup and eat this bread
Grape juice on lips offered from tiny plastic cups
And wafers engraved with the cross
Something tells me that Christ's death was not this neat
He was not cleanly set on a table, passed around for church goers to easily hold Him
between finger and thumb
I've never been good with blood, with the insides
My Shepherd's blood spilt for a nation
would I have watched or shut my eyes?
It's hard to follow with your eyelids closed keeping you blind
but I think I've come to see that we don't usually see through our eyes
But through our hearts and mind

All things messy and yet all things restored
Somehow still we'd rather give up than give in, cave in, fall in
when we're called to fall in love morning by morning
with Love itself
Grace like dish soap fighting the toughest stains
We decide that our plates are too dirty so we never even bring them to the table
But my Creator created me insides and all
Grace abounding, Love amazing
He knows I'll always be running, chasing
Coming to the table with a messy plate time and time again
His eyes like magnifying glasses not made to examine but to reveal
Because examinations seek to uncover everything and anything that is wrong
But we have a Redeemer who seeks revelation in our hearts