In the Eyes of God
She brought me here with love so wide,
To stand with her, to be her guide.
But first—these pews, this sacred place,
Where I must reckon, seek some grace.
RCIA on Thursday nights,
Learning saints and candle lights.
I followed faith I didn’t know,
Just to be hers, to let love grow.
One evening, quiet in his room,
I met the priest—no fire, no gloom.
Father Lybarger, calm and still,
He asked me gently, “What you will?”
I said, “There’s something I still bear—
A weight too deep for just a prayer.
I wore the flag, I did my part…
But I’ve killed a man. And it scars my heart.”
His silence wasn’t cold or long,
But measured, like a sacred song.
“You served,” he said. “You carried flame.
But war, my son, is not your shame.”
“It was duty,” I said. “Orders, battle—
But still I see his face, and more.
Can I stand before the Lord,
And vow a love I once ignored?”
He breathed, then nodded, soft and grave,
“God knows the burdens soldiers brave.
He sees the soul beneath the fight,
And walks with you through every night.
You didn’t choose to k ill in hate—
You served the world, you bore its weight.
Confess not guilt, but give your pain,
Let mercy wash you clean again.”
I left with tears that didn’t fall,
But sat behind my every wall.
And when she looked at me that night,
She saw me whole, and not the fight.
She asked me why I stayed behind,
What I had needed there to find.
I gave a smile, I made it small—
Said, “Just a talk, that’s all, that’s all.”
She searched my face, but didn’t press,
Just held my silence, nothing less.
She knew that something lived inside,
But let it wait—she let me hide.
For love like hers and grace like this,
Are forged through pain, not only bliss.
And when I say “I do” that day,
I’ll know what sacrifice can weigh.
I gave a life I can’t reclaim,
But God still whispers through my shame:
“You are not broken—just made new,
And worthy of the love in view.”
© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
