A Poem by Grace Davis / Dec. 21, 2023
I saw him,
Stepping over the dirty clothes on my bedroom floor as I sat curled up in my bed.
I was ashamed of my dirty laundry.
Even so, he was there.
And I know because the moment my fear and frustration arose within the walls of my messy bedroom,
He fixed a steady gaze upon my cheeks.
And in his eyes,
I knew I could find a deep sense of peace.
I was told his eyes were like the ocean, yet I could not look to see.
For I was afraid that the things I believed sunk would immediately resurface
as I professed sin from my lips unclean.
I thought I could hide,
yet at this moment; there pulled from the depths of my lungs a language that spoke surrender into existence.
For even his presence would fish for my soul.
Woe is me.
And for me, still glancing down, I felt him lean over and caress my cheek as he whispered gently into my ear,
A sentence I had been anxiously awaiting to hear.
My child, you are forgiven.
Forgiveness not from myself but of the King.
What I had been so persistent on giving me, I could not.
To his voice, I would immediately cling.
My cheeks were flushed as I still felt the weight of my shame.
Yet, the Father knew my heart, as he always does.
For just as I felt ashamed about the dirty laundry on my floor,
He stepped over it,
Not complaining about my mess,
But rather embracing.
To him, the clothes mattered less.
No wave dared knock him down, for he was much too powerful to be bothered.
The Father then took hold of my hand and squeezed it,
He spoke,
These were the words of the Author.
There, he reminded me, I had forgotten his grace. I was the one sinking.
Suddenly, my eyes lifted from my dirty laundry, and I gazed right back into his.
I fell into a deep, calm ocean that I once was too scared to jump in.
My shame felt insignificant as my frustrations and fears were met with the freedom he had been offering.
For the first time, I saw the Father, and my heart began softening.
But let me not forget,
He saw me first.
My mess was exposed, but his love was greater than my worst.
