God meets the Mess
The heavy coat drops.
The pretending stops.
You sit on the edge of the bed,
with a tired head.
We carry the dread
of the things left unsaid.
Afraid if He saw the real floor,
He’d walk out the door.
But mercy still finds us
and gently reminds us:
He doesn't look down with a frown
at the ways that we drown.
He searches the dark
for a small, broken spark.
He doesn't pull back from the grime;
He stays every time.
He buys back the years
of the wandering and tears.
The hands that first knit you in place
now fill you with grace.
No checklist to fill,
just a love that is still.
He meets you right inside the smart
and holds your whole heart.
-inspired by Psalm 139
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