hope anchors the soul

I keep walking around, you know?

Not ever really sure about where to go.

My internal compass never seems to work.

And for some reason it’s always messed up.

That’s me. Twisted.

Messed up.

I stole my dad’s drugs when I was fourteen.

Tanked my mom’s alcohol when I was twelve.

I ran away from home when I was sixteen.

I got pregnant when I was eighteen, swell.

That’s me. Twisted.

Messed up.

I am consumed with a rage that I cannot control.

So I scream and I fight and I pull out my hair.

My words pierce like knives

 Behind this hate-filled glare.

That’s me. Twisted.

Messed up.

I have been used and abused.

Lost my soul in a man who claimed to love me.

A man who promised it was more than physical.

But the only thing he really wanted was my body.

That’s me. Twisted.

Messed up.

I do anything to make a man stay

Yet I put up a wall to keep them away.

One by one they leave and I am left, trapped.

So desperate for a love that never wants me back.

That’s me. Twisted.

Messed up.

I am severely depressed.

I scream silently in the hopes that someone will hear me.

And yet, I hide in my silence with the fears that someone will care.

Because I am broken and not put together,

And I don’t see how anyone could rescue this kind of screw up.

That’s me. Twisted.

Messed up.

I look in the mirror and I hate what I see.

A voice screams back, “You are fat and ugly.

Never skinny enough. Skip a meal or two.”

So I do. Again…and again.

That’s me. Twisted.

Messed up.

Some people once called me a lost sheep.

Told them my life story, forgiveness is what they offered me.

Said there was some guy, a holy dude of some sort.

Said he loved me for me, straight down to my core.

Not me.  I’m twisted.

Messed up.

Some people once called me a lost son.

Said I left my father, even after all he had done.

Said he was looking for me, his little lost sheep.

Said he loved me for me, like he was my little bo peep.

Not me. I’m twisted.

Messed up.

Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,

And can’t tell where to find them.

Leave them alone, and they’ll come home.

Wagging their tails behind them.

But not God. 

Jesus lost just one sheep, and set out to find it.

Left 99 alone and wasn’t worried one bit.

He cared so much about one lost sheep,

That he searched the plains day after day.

He didn’t stop until it was found.

Didn’t stop until that sheep was in his arms, safe and sound.

Jesus carried it home on his back,

And rejoiced when he arrived

Saying I’ve found my lost sheep! At last!

I am that one lost sheep.

Now safe and sound.

Jesus chose me, and carried me on his back,

And for some reason rejoiced with the whole town.

No longer am I my pains, tied down to the depths of my past.

I am what they call free, no longer living under a mask.

I am free from my hate

And so full of love.

Because the good shepherd found me

And made me a dove

That’s me. Once lost.

Now found.

For me a savior died,

Bled on a cross with nails pierced in his hands,

Wounds stabbed into his sides.

He took my shame and my pains and

Sacrificed his life that I may have a better life.

That I may be found.

And I have been found, by a man who will never leave.

I know, because He made me.

No death, no demons, nothing in hell or above

Could keep me away from this father’s love.

That’s me. Once lost.

Now found.

My God chose me.

What love is this, so pure and amazing,

That a man would leave a flock of 99 just to find one.

To me that is so crazy.

Now I look in the mirror and thank God for what I see.

A voice whispers back, “You are beautiful. Through and through.

Stop destroying yourself. Stop trying to measure up!

You are perfect the way you are and I love you.”

That’s me. Once lost.

Now found.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind but now I see.

Used and Abused

She was only a child

She never partied

He partied. Wild.

Used and Abused

You’d never know

She hides all her suffering

In the depths of her bones.

Used and Abused

She bathes in her shame

Go through what she has

You’d remember his name.

Engraved in her mind

She carries the weight

Of the memories from that night

And the overwhelming hate.

Used and Abused

Look what he has done

Took her dignity

And boiled it in the sun.

She deserves not this pain

Of a fiery guilt

From a man who

left her stained.

So the man upstairs

The man who truly loves

Takes her wounds

And turns them into doves.

Used and Abused

She is no longer.

Loved and Worthy

She is forever.  

I lean not on my own understandings. 

My life is in the hands of the maker of heaven.

I give it all to you, God.

Trusting that you’ll make something

beautiful out of me. 

I will climb this mountain with my hands wide open

I will climb this mountain with my hands wide open.

It is in our brokenness that God teaches us what it means to be set free. No matter what our circumstance, there is FREEDOM in the name of Jesus. I may be weak, but Your Spirit is strong in me. My flesh may fail, but my God You never will.

rid me of myself, I belong to You.

It’s kind of ironic that I find the most peace when I’m in water.

Whether it be in a pool, Jacuzzi, shower, or most of all, ocean, I’m peaceful. I find it easiest to connect with God when I’m in water, which is also ironic.

The reason why it’s ironic is because a baby (fetus, whatever) spends nine months in its mother’s womb, which is made up of water. I don’t know the scientific facts about it, but I know it’s in water. In the Bible, God tells us to have faith like a child, and that he who comes to me like a child will be let into the gates of heaven…or something like that. It’s like, when I’m in water, I go back to my origins. 

Have you ever wondered if babies can actually talk? And if God talks to them? Or if they can see angels? Do they know God? Do they believe in Him, or even know what that means? Sometimes I wonder if and even that they do. I wonder if they do because when I’m in water I feel so close to God, but I feel so much like a baby in its mother’s womb.

How is it that I literally feel the most peace I ever feel when I’m in water? 

And what about baptism? Most people get dunked into water when they’re baptized. John the Baptist dunked Jesus in the Jordan River, big body of water, and the heavens even opened and appeared at that moment.

Why is it that I’m not even afraid of the animals in the ocean? I’ve swum with a shark. I go to the beach to make sure I find a turtle or school of fish to swim with.

I’m noticing that I am one strange kid, with the soul of a 50-year-old, the heart of a 5-year-old, and the mind of a crazy genius (or so I like to think).

I find peace in water, and that’s all I can say.

How ironic.