Brethren, I have a confession to make.
Not that I am best at my own making for which I am most sinful of all.
I have bitten the hands that fe(e)d my mouth and turned my back on GOD. Indeed in these 369 days to fulfilled healing, I’m stubborn, sinful, haughty, proud and lowly. I have sinned against GOD.
I bit the hand of GOD and it tastes bitter to do so; the aftertaste is regret and anger and soul-biting pain, buried deep in my heartbeat.
I confess, I failed: GOD, my father, the truth, you, myself.
I have taken HIS Name for nothing. I’ve blasphemed, I have lost HIS Face, I have ridden myself of HIS Trust. I have thrust my conscience to the side. I have killed it and the silence covered any correction. I have been haughty, I have quenched the spirit of GOD. I have failed.
I’ve lost my voice I have taken upon me the pen of choice such that I have become Adam and I am Eve, striving to be like GOD and; to know what is good and evil.
I am guilty of being guilty of being guilty of playing “god”; deciding my fate.
No GOD’sBondMan should choose their fate, yet all are welcome to decide (not device) their fate: which fate they shall keep to, which fate they shall walk through – faith, sight, light, darkness, weakness, strength in Christ…it goes on.
I confess; I’ve failed: GOD, man, woman, child, heart…me
I’ve not lived as I need to, not as I should. I have not been a good representation of GOD’s will. I’ve known, I have refused to do. I have done, I refused to do well; I’ve done well, I’ve refused to continue; I’ve continued, I need more grace.
I confess…I am empty.
I don’t know where I stand: between being an abomination or being rejected; between being an eyesore or a stiffening sore; between being forgiven or being chosen, again. My heart hurts my soul burns, my body is a mess. I ache, I quake, I’ve failed, GOD and man and woman and all I know or do not know. I am chief of all disappointments. I’ve failed. I can’t see passed this, not yet.
I need healing, I need to listen.
I need to stop playing the card to be safe. I need to stop trying to please men – like me – who need to please GOD – like me. I need to please GOD.
I’m imperfect, I’m poor. I’m hungry, I’m empty, I’m broken, I’m solemn, I’m sullen, I’m devastated. I’m angry with my flesh, I’m threshing on broken dreams. I’m…that’s it…what I am is nothing. There’s nothing I can be, really. GOD help me.
What I have is GOD’s not to be offered to gods – however they may be.
I need grace to complete, to finish, to be thoroughly finished, to be ready. There’s more to be done. This sick soul needs grace; the race just got longer.
I confess; I’ve failed; my soul wailed but I failed.