You have chosen me again and again, Father.

When things feel empty and I am in a state of nothingness,
my options are either to isolate or escape from the real world.
It's unproductive, but it keeps me safe from the world.
Safe, but it's unproductive.
Safe, but it's running away from the things that truly matter.
Safe, but I locked my door to the only one who understands me the most.

He who sees me.
He who knows my pains and carries them as His own.
He who embraced me despite my rebellion.
He who accepted me for who I am.
Incomplete and flawed.

He who completes me.

As I write this at 2 in the morning,
5 hours of sleep, barely stretched,
I write in deep admiration, gratitude, and love
for the Father who stayed by my side.

My Father,
He whom I feared to face because of my flaws and sins.
He whom I believed was disappointed in everything in me because I couldn't fulfill my role as His child.
But my Father isn't like that,
I was wrong.
Despite my fears and my self-criticism,
He continued to be by my side.

He stood by my storms and my empty calms,
sending messages of love and acceptance—that I will always be
His child.

Sure, I can isolate myself from the rest of the world and hide somewhere where the light doesn't know,
but God can always find me.
It was I who pushed Him away.
It was I who was too ashamed to face God.
But in His eyes, despite being broken and tattered,
I was still as lovable.

I was incomplete and unheard,
but God knows it all.
No running away can flush away my mistakes and regrets.
God knows it all.

God knows everything,
so why run away?

But God already forgave me,
it was I who wasn't able to realize that.
I chose to lock my heart and "deal" with all of this by myself,
I was wrong, extremely wrong.
I was a rebel.
I am unworthy of Him,
but He loves me still.

I was wrong.
I was wrong.
I was wrong.
"I was wrong," I say again and again.

So this time and 'til the end of time,
I will do things right.
I will always choose You.

This is who I die for, Lord
I’m sorry I say this in Thy Holy Name
But it is not You whom I pray to nor praise

I am down on my knees for a new God

He does not judge me
He does not lash me for my sins
For He is my sin

His touch feels like the sunshine on my face
And He tastes of milk and honey
-
His voice is like a song of the sirens
And His scent is oh so alluring

And I cannot feel you, Lord!
How can I believe
When my real God is right here in front of me?
Before my eyes & before my touch

How could I not praise His Holy Name?
For it feels serene on my tongue
And Yours only when I’ve sinned
When I am on my knees
And begging for mercy

If I shall not lie with a male
As with a woman
Color me the abomination

I no longer worship those I fear
For it only comes with consequences

No God would bare His teeth
When His creations use their will as they please

We do not bite the hand that feeds
For the hand has been empty
And we are starving

His Name rings in my head
Like church bells on Sunday Morning
I want to pray to Him
-
To my never-faltering obsession

Send me to Hell
Because for all I care
My experience with Him
Felt like Heaven

Of what essence
Is existence—
Without Life?

Dry,
Weary,
Fiery—
That is existence
Without Life.

Open the hoozle,
Pour in the junk;
Fill your spirit with
What perishes.
I know how this ends.

What is breathing
Without
The Breath of Life?

Life is not
Coordination—
The mind, the flesh
Pulling strings.

Life is
Dying to self,
And rising
In Him.

Open the Book of Light.
Show me men
Who died in Him,
And I will echo:
“There is no Life
Outside Christ.”