Coming to terms with the parts of me that I’ve lost, and been losing-
I am done reaching for already dead stars. I’ve been searching for the right word, a name to call this abandon, these empty hands.
I punish myself everyday for not being the girl I was before; twenty four hours before darkness arrived. I want to be her so bad. I thought that without my self-sufficiency, I wouldn’t be me. If I’m not bedrock solid, I wouldn’t be me. Oh, how wrong I’ve been, and how glad I am that those parts are gone now.
I said I’ve been looking for the right word, and tonight I found it – death. Dying. The burying of whatever was rotting my heart. A self has to die because a new one is waiting to be born. Bought by Jesus when He bled on the cross. He died, bringing my old self, old passions, nailing it with Him to the cross.
Oh, the cross. The grave. The grave that cannot contain He who came to set me free. To unshackle my feet and invite me to live. The season of mourning is over, because the morning is here. The new dawn shouts His praise. Whispers my name. He has loved me well.
Lord Jesus, when I speak Your name, You make dead hearts find new life. You hold my heart so so so well. You love me so well. Solus Christus, for all my days