Silence…

It’s that twisting in my chest
like a stone is weighing down on me
and I feel like I can’t
breathe.
Measuring up is
hard to do…
stress and heartache
rolled up in a
meatball
with hot-sauce made of
stinging pride,
reminding me that I’m not
good enough
to measure up.

I’m just a
little person with a
burden, feet are dragging me
down,
down,
down
in sinking sand.
Where
will it
end?

Grace.

Grace?
I don’t deserve that.

Well yeah, but…

I’ve worked so hard
for all my life,
said my prayers,
tried to live for you, but
everything was just a
fraud.
Don’t waste your grace
on me, it’s
okay…
I’ll just work harder,
push myself farther,
and maybe…someday I’ll
be worthy of grace.

Worthy? You’ll
never be worthy!
Just look at you—

I’ve tried, I’ve tried—I’m trying…
and I’m dying…

That’s how big
grace is.

…

Don’t tell me you’re not worthy—
you aren’t, but
at the same time,
that makes you so
worthy of grace.
‘cause grace isn’t for the people who
measure up.
It’s a gift…and you don’t need to
pay.