Sunday, February 3, 2013


I timidly walk to the throne.

I'm scared. 

I'm unworthy.

I'm so, so small in comparison.

I reach out and touch the hem of His robe.

I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I turn.

It's my Brother.

I relax.

I tell Him I need to talk to the Father.

But I'm unworthy.

For even on my best days

I'm as filthy rags.

He says He can help.

He pulls me into His arms.

And tells me I'll be okay.

That He has been walking with me

all along. 

He goes to the Father.

He tells Him I'm weary.

He tells Him I'm weak.

He tells Him I'm in pain.

He tells Him what I need.

He tells Him what I want.

I stand with my head down

away from the throne.

Knowing how unworthy

I am

To speak to the Father.

The creator of the heavens and the earth.

Soon my Brother returns.

Places His hands upon my shoulders

Looks me in the eye

And reminds me that He loves me

Enough to have died for me

Nothing can change that

Or make Him stop loving me

Or wanting good for me.

He gently turns me

towards the throne

He guides me to His feet.

Instead of turning me away.

He reaches down

And picks me up.

He curls me in the crook of His arm.

He wipes my tears.

He waits while the sobbing subsides.

He lets me rest.

Then Father tells me my Brother

has told Him my fears.

He tells me to leave those aside.

To worry no more.

I tell my Father I need help.

I'm so tired.

So weary from this journey.

Even my physical body cries out in pain.

He tells me that He has a plan.

And He does have good for me.

To doubt that no more.

He holds me some more.

While the sobs turn to whimpers.

He reminds me that my Brother has been carrying me.

Even when I couldn't see Him

through all my tears.

Even when I was frustrated

And didn't want to talk.

He sets me down.

Tells me to journey on.

That good is right around the bend.

To never give up hope.

To anytime come to Him for comfort.

To never fear.

Always knowing

That He will pick me up

And hold me in His arms


I just need

to come

and ask.

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