Broken, But Not Done

I wrote the following poem this morning as I reflected on my journey so far. I thank God I am in process.

I am a man.

 

I am not a woman,

Or more romantic I would be.

My emotions would tend to lead me,

But compassion would abound.

 

I am not a child,

Or innocence would be my guide.

My attitude would cry out loud,

But my imagination would surely thrive.

 

I am not a tree,

Or more stable I would seem.

My conversation would be quite bland,

But my cover would sooth the burned.

 

No, I am a man.

 

This is a simple journey

Full of such complexity.

I live my life as an open book;

Therefore, I find much scorn.

 

Some wonder why they waste their time,

Believe me I think the same.

However, I seem to find great friends,

To share this journey with.

 

My simple little story

Is not one of extravagance.

I have no tales of chivalry

Or adventures that bring fame.

 

In fact, I often find myself

Just blending in with ordinary.

I don’t have wealth or accolades;

The world I have not traveled.

 

So, you see, I am just a man.

 

As ordinary as my life may be,

There is more than you see.

For beneath the surface lies a war that’s waged,

That causes so much pain.

 

It is a war of liberation from

The bondage that I’m in.

The Enemy is so very real,

And the battles are intense.

 

At times the ground that’s gained in battle,

Seems quick to slip away.

But when I’m down I realize

That Jesus is my triumphant victory!

 

That’ right this battle that I’m always in,

I do not fight alone.

Instead, my God, my Savior Christ

Gives me the strength I need.

 

I’m not a man alone.

 

Not lonely do I find my life

In the One I worship and serve,

He gives to me a company

Of friends to do life with.

 

We join together in our fight

For truth and liberty.

Our forces are much stronger when

We stand in unity.

 

But stop, and listen, hear these words

For strange they must appear.

The battle that we fight the most

Is freedom from our past.

 

The guilt, the shame and shallowness

And burdens of misdeeds,

Religious rules and rites with creeds

The damage they have caused.

 

To move beyond our religious pride

And find the One who died,

Is the battle that we all must face

Until the end of time.

 

He died to set us free from guilt

And the systems that blind our eyes.

Yet all too often we recreate them

And in His place they then reside.

 

So the call I hear to all today.

Is give our idols up.

Cut down the systems that do detract

From the Holy One we serve.

 

But, then again, I am but a man…

 

 

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