I have flaws.
I have shortcomings.
I've failed over and over again.
I have nasty habits.
I do things I'm far from proud of.
Funny how Someone dares love me anyway.
Whether I feel it or not.
Those who know me know.
I can be hard to love.
I'll accept a compliment, then replay its opposite in my head for days.
I can say what I mean ... shatter hope with stabbing words.
When I treat others like I treat myself, it gets ugly.
Still He persists.
"Worth it," He calls me.
Dead to self.
I have wished my-self dead.
Dead to the world.
Dead to the pain.
But I live on.
Maybe that's my problem.
Lydia, you just haven't died yet.
Is that really it?
I have become alive to Him
But have I died to me yet?
Answer that in the negative.
No way, Jose.
I keep my-self in my pocket
Stroking it gently as I pray nobody sees that I yet live.
Seriously, I've prayed prayers like that.
He shakes His head at me
The same old Eve, hiding behind a bush.
Hide and seek with perilous consequences.
And He's still calling me Beloved as He searches.
Who does that?
Is it just me, or is that the kind of Person you can trust?
It's not just me.
I feel like a bungee jumper.
I set my-self aside.
It's no longer controlling my breathing; my actions.
It ain't dead yet, but the time is a-comin'.
I'll attend the funeral, but shed no tears.
I jump off the edge, with grace as my only rope.
Abba, catch me.
The most legitimate trust fall yet.
He catches me.
And this time, I'm not even surprised.
He was holding me before I even jumped.