No.95: Answer Me. Please.


God, I'm sinking.
Crumbling in fact,
back into dust, but that
may just be what you've been waiting for.
You only mold that which is ready to be molded.
Self-made statues must be torn down
before the boy inside can reflect Your glory.
You created me to look like You,
yet all I do is move and crave and dress like demons beneath me,
you call me king,
yet all I see are broken pieces,
Lord, I need your peace,
clarity that supersedes everything my eyes believe,
I want to be strong, and respected, and loved,
I don't want them to see the threads loose at the seams, 
the cracks, the black eye, the leaks,
I am a shattering battleship being held together with bandages,
pretty quotes and bold ambitions,
projections and surface-level reflections. 
I need you.
I need you.
Not tomorrow, not in five minutes, 
not in thirty seconds when I'm done writing this,
I need you right here, 
right now, take over. 
I keep fighting,
so break me,
crush my will,
pour it like flour on everything I take pride in,
on everything I worship that isn't Alpha and Omega,
and cook a masterpiece. 
I want to submit, let you lead. 
But you know there's a part of me that just won't have it.
That is the part I need you to kill.
Bury him.
Forget his name.
Show no mercy.
Show him no grace.
Leave nothing but the knight and the saint and the son and the imago Dei, 
Lord do not hesitate.
For my sake, please end it.
Faith is so hard--I need a permanent break from my unbelief.
I cannot sink.
You did not give me that option. 
But I'm finding it difficult to let myself breathe.
Lord, your child is calling.
Answer me.


Cover Photo by Luke Pamer on Unsplash