I stand under the sun, yet I’m cold as ice.
I walk on the flatlands, yet I stumble, unsure of my feet.
There is beauty all around me, yet I see only stones, broken branches, and crushed flowers.
The wind caresses the trees and water, yet it strikes me as an arrow.
Music plays in every height, yet it falls deaf on my ears.
Something is wrong with me, I say, shivering. Then, No. Something is wrong in me.
If a soul is a bird, then mine is an ostrich- running endlessly, always searching, never flying or finding.
If a soul is a jewel, then mine is coal- rough, black, sooty, and unrefined.
If a soul is a wellspring of life, mine is a muddy, poisoned trickle of slime that no creature can drink of and live.
If a soul is a yearning, burning fire, then mine is a dim ember- blown out so many times it can hardly bear to stay lit.
If a soul is a gift to give, mine an unwanted toy, useless and tossed away.
If a soul is a symphony or choir, then mine is a badly played song, lyrics garbled, notes gone wrong.
My soul has chased the wrong things, polished the wrong objects, drunk the wrong water, satisfied the wrong desires, given itself to the wrong people, and listened to the wrong voices.
Hope does not live here.
Joy does not live here.
Color fades here.
Life itself dies here.

Then, I see You for the first time, though You were always there.

Leave me, abandon me, I say. Everyone else has.
No, You say. Come to Me. I want you.
You don’t want me, I scoff. Who could?
I can, and I do, You say.
I’m stained, I protest. I’m torn and dirty.
I can make you clean. Be Mine, You say.
You will let go of me, just like the others! I say, weeping suddenly.
I never let go, You say. Come. I will wipe all your tears with My own hand. I will make all things new.
You love me, I say, realizing. My mind cannot comprehend it. You love me even though I hated You.
You open Your arms. I am always here. Come while you can, You say.
There can be no denying You. I’m running to You, on legs that were weak. I fall into You, sobbing.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I say over and over. I’m unclean.
Look down, You say.
And behold, I’m clothed in white!
You have done this! I cry.
You are My bride, You say. I love you. That is why I have done this for you.
And I see that You are scarred, Your holy hands pierced. I fall silent, trying to figure out what this means, not able to wrap myself around it.
Then You embrace me. As Your arms encircle me, color bursts on the landscape. Broken trees, broken flowers and bound up by an invisible hand and begin to rejuvenate. Warmth fills me. Music swells around me, lifting me up.
You made all things new! I exclaim joyously, wonderingly.
You smile.

***

I have set the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure. For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption.

Psalm 16:8-10 (ESV)