Panashe Chigwedere Poet Spoken Word

Another Chance

God, I know my missteps.  
I know the weight of every disobedience I tried to bury beneath silence.  
I know the days I wandered from what was right,  
and the nights I stood at the crossroads of wrong and right, trembling, uncertain which road bore Your name.  

I am not perfect for You.  
I have carried mistakes like stones in my pockets 
some born of ignorance, some born of pride,  
some whispered into my ear by the serpent who thought he could claim me.  

And yet, here I am.  
Not with excuses, but with open hands.  
Not demanding, but begging.  
Lord, give me _another chance_.  

Another chance to do what is right.  
Another chance to make beautiful the ruins I made of yesterday.  
Take the fractured pieces of my past 
every lie, every compromise, every door I opened to the enemy   
and redeem them into a testimony that sings.  

Because You are not a father who disowns His child for stumbling.  
You are the King who runs toward the prodigal.  
You are Elohim Eloi, the God who sees, who fights unseen battles for me,  
who turns the plots of darkness into dust beneath Your feet.  

So this time will be different.  
This time, I will not misuse mercy.  
This time, I will choose obedience over applause,  
faith over fear,  
Your voice over every other noise.  

This time, I want to bless You.  
I want to embrace my faith until it becomes bone in my body.  
I want to learn more  of Your Word, Your ways, Your patience.  
I want to recognize the schemes of the devil at the door  
and refuse to answer.  

If he knocks, I will not open.  
If he tempts, I will not linger.  
If he accuses, I will point to the cross and say,  
"I have been given another chance."  

This time, Lord, hear me.  
Understand the cry beneath my words.  
Mold me until You are proud to call me Yours.  
Make me new. Make me true.  
Let me be a new creation not by my striving,  
but by the fire of Your grace.  

Don’t let this chance slip through careless hands.  
Let it be the turning point.  
Let it be the chapter where I stopped surviving  
and started surrendering.  

God, if You give me another chance,  
I will walk differently.  
I will love deeper.  
I will fight on my knees before I fight with my mouth.  
I will guard what is holy,  
and I will reflect You in rooms that have only known my brokenness.  

So here is my vow, written not in ink but in repentance:  
Use me.  
Teach me.  
Keep me.

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