You stooped low
Bending Heaven to draw near.
Shriveled, trembling, matted and distressed
I was nothing deserving of Your attention.
But one thing I was…
shattered into millions of pieces.
The Psalmist declares that you are close to the brokenhearted
and that a broken spirit, You will not despise.
And You did not.
You cradled me, helpless and whimpering
too damaged to even meet Your eyes.
Yet my raw and open wounds became the gateway
The portal where our blood could freely commingle.
You took on my pain
Received it tenderly and graciously,
never condemned all it was not
for You knew, it was all that I had.
You touched my pain to Your lips
and I watched it burn red hot as fire.
And finally I understood…
As deep calls to deep,
My brokenness had summoned
That, which my words could not.
All that I despised became a vision to behold
As pain was transformed into beauty.