I look around at everything broken
And whisper, “I’m broken too.”
I look around at everyone shattered
And try to fix them with glue
I want to find the biggest bleeding hearts in the room
And go with them to pass out band-aids
I want to love people offensively,
Without pretense or pride
But I keep tripping over my own chaos
I keep trying to hide
Turns out band-aids can't cure cancer
Or heal battle wounds
All this time I’ve been waiting
I’ve been waiting to be set free
And along comes God,
Infinitely bigger and better than me
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I hold out my hands,
Expecting to be punished,
Expecting to be hurt
But instead He offers His own hands,
Perfectly pierced, perfectly torn
Jesus looks at me and utters,
“Don’t worry. You are already reborn.”
I try to argue with Him
Because I don’t understand
Why would He offer me
Those perfect, holy hands?
I try to tell Him I’m not deserving
And this might be a waste
But He turns to me and beckons,
“Trust me. This is mercy. This is grace.”
-Alex Fly