In Your Hand

Lord, I’ve come to the realization

That I don’t know anyone.

Though I want to love and be loved,

I approach everyone

With so much of my own self-chatter

And warped view of who they are.

Like a movie projector,

I see rejection,



And lies.

In reality,

I reject,



And lie to myself.


I tell myself I want to know You.

And I do.

I want to know You

As You are,

But there are so many views of You.

We all look at you

Through mirrors

Of ourselves.

I suppose there is

Some value in that,

Since we are created

In Your image,

But we’ve got it all backwards.

We are warped images

Of You,

Not the other way around.


You are what You are.

I avoid You at times,

Because I’m angry at times,

About how my life turned out.

I don’t often like myself,

So am amazed

That You could love me….

Or anyone could love me.

This huge emptiness I feel

About not fitting in

With those whose job it was

To love me

And being rejected by those who

I needed to want me is terrible,

And I blame You

For putting me here.


You put me here…

And You love me here.

You took great care

In creating me.

If I had been placed

In a different family,

I would not be who I am.

If even one thing had changed,

I would be a different person,

And yet,

You still love me

And care for me just as I am.

You are the Artist,

And Your art is beautiful.

Implying anything else

Is an insult to You.


And You are still creating me,

Even now.

You are not finished

Until I am birthed into heaven.

Then, I will be complete.

Now, I’m a mere frame

Of Your living masterpiece.

But even in this unfinished,

Constantly changing state,

I am exactly as You’ve

Planned for me to be.

Right now.

The wounds are part of this

Great Work.

You do all things perfectly.


The one who hurt me so badly,

Is only a chisel mark

In this Great Work.

This is why

You told me so long ago

That the wounds I’ve endured

Are not scars,

But beauty marks.

The other Marks,

They are also part of this

Perfect work of art.

You are not afraid

Or intimidated

By my anger and pain.

You make all things beautiful

In time.


And You love me.


Keep me pliable

in Your hand.



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