Maybe

Today is the first day of February and also the first day of the FEBlog challenge. Which is a challenge to blog daily for the next 28 days.
On this first day I’m going to share a poem.

I wrote this poem last year for a production that was put up the Worship Harvest Jazzville drama team and it was actually performed by the most amazing person, Norah Novuyo.
It’s an insight into what my life used to be like and still is some days. I’m glad I know Jesus. Read on:

Let me tell you a story
A story not from long ago and not from far away places
A story not about kings and dragons, and knights and round tables.
Let me tell you about me.
Not so interesting, right?
Nevertheless I will speak of me.
The greatness that is in me.
Installed by the one who created me.
Maybe you’ll relate to me.
Maybe you’ll say Messi’s better
He probably is.
But a messy me being righted by an unmessy being is so beautiful a story so listen…
In a time not so long ago.
I thought I was worthless.
Shocking…..I know
Not so long ago…..
I thought:
Maybe I’m just nothing.
A waste of space, waste of breath.
Like they’ve said, over and over again,
good for nothing.
Maybe I am not worth it.
Worth the effort
Worth the time
A lot of nothing.
They said, He said, she said.
Surely….he, she,  they can’t all be wrong.
We’ve all been there haven’t we?
In despair, seeking approval from circles that could care less how we are
We become careless with our selves because they could care less therefore, why should we care at all.
Perhaps if we cared less then they’d care for us.
Maybe then we’d know who we are.
Understand our purpose.
This need for acceptance is a dreadful thing that is in the drivers seat for a lot of us….
It drove my life
I lived not knowing, ignorant and
Never fully understanding that I am actually…..something.
And not just something, I am everything.
A truth I came upon in the thickness of the darkness.
When I fell to my knees and cried out….who am I? Lord who am I?
He didn’t speak.
Or if He did, I didn’t listen.
But my mind replayed a phrase from my childhood,
I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
some days there’s the emphasis on the fearfully
Do you know, beloved… Who you are?
Do you know, beloved, whose you are?
Do you know yours is a life that has purpose.
Do you know that you are not a waste of space.
You are not nothing, beloved, you are everything.
Do you know.
This is a story not from long ago. And it’s not from far away.
It’s about me, not a king, not a knight.
But a mere human
Saved by grace

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7 comments

  1. fortunate23 · February 1

    Beautiful piece.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Miti Pius · February 2

    Nice! Now let me get to that #Feblog thing. I guess it will help me improve and increase my blog content.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. B War G · February 5

    You are something, you beat of his heart, you are the beloved of the father.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Pingback: Of The Broken Mugged Man | Becoming The Muse

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