Loved, even when I stumble, days I’ve crumbled in my car – like today.
Stains, strongholds still very much alive – I thought all was clear.
When I look at me, I wonder what God sees, my head knows he sees Jesus, but pride points fingers at me,
I’ve been catching a mirror in my thoughts, doors ahead seem to be locked, am I still walking in thoughts of my two hands?
If I can’t be in control… If I can’t have my itinerary approved… Temper tantrum, God, I’m embarrassed.
I thought I was over this, more mature but yet another miss, unlocked lips waging war on ships, killing the moment still burning through clips, pride in the background with hands on hips, God I thought I was over this.
I want to see past my perspective, dirty hands on the lens, selfie camera wins again.
Wrapped in the foolishness of self, fingers coated and crusted with selfish paint smeared on every scene.
I want to see past my island of shortsightedness, regret, and debris.
I’m tired of me,
Jesus, I need and want you.