Wretched, that I Am

You are in the shadows, darkened by the silhouette.

It’s because I am not worthy to step into the light. I have a blemish, a spot, a stain; too many scars. I cannot come any closer, I have strayed far enough; any farther and I would be too far from redemption. So I will stand here. It is my pleasure to stand here.

Then what is it?

My heart. It has been wounded and broken...again. I was here not too long ago, singing the same tune, wearing the same face, bearing the same bruises. They healed but I scratched and exposed myself. I am hurting but I was hoping that if I looked away long enough, I would forget and they would disappear.

I have been waiting.

I know. Which is why I knew to come. Here. To this place. Sins were taken care of here, over a couple of millennia ago. You once invited man to reason with You. That though our garments were red as scarlet, You would make them white as snow. You are He, whom they say restores the weary, and to him who has no might You increase strength.

You could have come sooner.

I was hesitating. I thought You would require gifts, loud acclamations, buoyant praise. All I had was this pit of despair. I could not bring myself to offer this broken and contrite spirit. Somehow, I heard these are the qualities that seize Your attention. So I am here now...broken...in need of repair.

There will be celebration. Your return is precious to Me.

I don’t deserve this. All I wanted was to hear that You would take me as I am and to know that You would welcome me back into the fold.

I give you a crown of beauty for your ashes, the oil of gladness for your mourning, and a garment of praise for your spirit of despair. All for My glory.