This senseless self-preoccupation
sends me straight to Hell
and I can’t tell if it’s your fault or mine
it’s fine either way, I’m not sure I care at this point
I’m just tired of every piece of my life feeling so painfully out of joint
my heart conjoined with assumed opinions and criticism that even Satan would call excessive
And I push you away like you put this on me
that you expect me to be just like everybody else
or maybe that perspective veils the reality that I know I was made for more than this
pissing away my time and energy worrying about if I measure up to what you expect of me
I mean, you want me to look like your firstborn son
how can I even begin to measure up to that after everything I’ve done?
or at least this is the tape I run repeatedly in my head
And in a way it’s like I dread hearing anything besides it
because if I hear a different sound
I’m bound to bigger responsibility and I’m pushed to the brink
And I find myself sinking beneath the terrible thought that you’re disappointed in me
That you find me disgusting and can’t wait to be rid of me
But while I’m making self-pity my revelry I so often fail to see the devilry of my thoughts
not catching that I’m thinking way more highly of my brokenness than I ought
and we’ve fought over this more times than I can count,
I know.
God, how many more times do you have to show me that the way I think just doesn’t work?
How many more times will you remind me I’m not loved because it’s earned?
That Jesus took on the curse that I deserved
I’ve read and heard the story a thousand times
even though I forget it at the drop of a dime
so remind me again, I don’t have to try so hard
to be the son you want and that...
you’re not nearly as far away from me as I think you are