A Plea

     Father, may You hear this prayer. I'm sorry. Sorry. How hollow is that word and so small. When weighed against my sin how little that one word means. How can I be sorry, how can my regret mean anything at all when I understand so little of what I do; when the enormity of my sin I cannot even start to comprehend? I need you oh God! These hands are filthy and I cannot scrub them clean, neither palms, nor wrists, nor even one single finger. All around me are smiles and welcome and much esteem. Would they love me if they knew me? Knew me as You do? As the man who chooses the wrong again and again and AGAIN, who fights a battle against himself and seems to so often lay his sword aside and present his neck to the blade. If on some lonely night a screen were erected on which to project my life and thoughts and deeds done in solitude how many would speak to me again? How many would break off all ties? How many would forgive? How many would take pity? How many would help? Anyone? Anyone at all? Would anyone at all look on me with pity or with love? Would I find one sympathetic soul to take my hand? Would you? Would anyone?

     Father, may You hear this prayer. To You alone can I turn to in the night that is myself. From You alone can I seek forgiveness and grace. For You alone have provided a way for salvation. I am weighed down with guilt. Every lie, every half-truth, every wayward thought, every flash of lust, every selfish action, every MOMENT that I have spent on the flesh and it's fallen desire pulls me to the floor and I CAN'T BREATHE from the weight of it all! Yet you are there with me. Lord Jesus you are there with me, under the mountain of crushing evidence and crime. It is Your back that bears the burden now, YES, I can feel the burden lifting! In Your blood stained hands my sin lies crucified forever on the cross of Calvary! The weight, that crushing force that held me down is rising now and I can stand and breathe and see another day!

Thank you.

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thank you.

Two words. They too sound hollow. How can two words, and two syllables, and eight letters, and one language, and one mind, and one soul, and one lifetime be enough to convey my gratitude? How can I show my joy? I have not the words to say, nor the songs to sing, nor the tears to shed to express it! How can I thank You? How can I say I'm sorry? How can I convey such meaning that even my heart cannot contain? How can I?

     Father, may You hear this prayer. This life is Yours now, as it was before but now by more than right of Lordship. Now You have paid for it with the blood of Your Son. This life that was meaningless and stained and broken, this life that had no worth and no point is suddenly more valuable than all the jewels, and all the gold, and all the precious things of all the worlds combined because You have set the price. You have shown what You would pay...for me. I cannot understand why You would do such a thing. Why You would pay so great a price, for me. For us. For anyone.

     So many words. So many songs. So many lives and so many souls given to the worship and praise of Your name, and it's not enough. There will never be enough singing, never be enough dancing, never be enough stories told, or poems written, or dramas played out across the stage to encompass what should be said. I cannot say enough, I cannot even begin. So I will say what I can.

I'm sorry

I love You

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Thank You.