I’ve been really inspired to write a poem or spoken word piece. I love how poets are able to paint such beautiful imagery to describe something so meaningful. A blog post just didn’t seem enough to describe my walk with Christ, so I wrote a poem instead. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Sweet Like Honey
They say that wildflowers grow in the wild, that they aren’t intentionally seeded or planted. I’d like to call myself a wildflower. Strong enough to grow from dirt, capable of producing something sweet.
But how did I constantly allow people to take from me? To take the good within me and use me for their personal gain. To allow them to sting me with words, prick me with disappointment, and pierce me with their selfishness. They took all that was mine, and collected it for themselves. They left me empty, causing me to question my own purpose.
Left in the dark, unable to see reason, left to believe the lies that I’m just unintentionally planted. Focused on the pitch black, colorblind to the yellow, when all along there was light to illuminate life’s dark tunnels, the bright side.
You see, what the devil meant for evil, God meant for my good. Their stingers produced a thorn in my flesh. And this kind of distraction called for some type of action, so my soul cried out for the process of extraction.
Guarded by the walls I myself put in place, He came and removed my doubts and fears, the caps I used to seal my disbelief. A force greater than myself, greater is He that is in me, He was the center, the source of my strength.
He spun me, confused me even, and I felt dizzy with worry. Pulled to rock bottom, I was convinced that I was the one sinking, drowning, overcome with waves of emotion.
Latching on to His anchor of hope, I was strained. Stripped of my pride, exposed to my sin, and left completely bare. Without realizing that He was forming me in His image, molding and crafting me in order to use me for His glory.
As a result? Words sweet like honey, drip slowly until they’ve reached the depths of my heart.
Like a cake waiting to be filled, His promises are sticky and raw. They fill the insides of my soul and cover the walls of my spirit until my cup runs completely over.
Forget the filling, the feelings, or what it looks like on the outside. I’ve tasted and seen that He is good.
He’s an instant rush, an excitement. He takes me on a high but somehow I find myself at my lowest point, face down on my knees in complete worship and surrender.
But I am full. Full from His joy, sustained by His redemption, and nourished with His peace that surpasses all understanding. Yet He takes and He multiplies. The fruits of His spirit are placed in me and in return, I give him the fruit of my lips. It never adds up.
I am not contained in a bottle, I am the creation of a wildflower, uncultivated, blooming, and free. Free to walk in the beauty of His grace, free to dance intensely, laugh fully, free to live beyond limitations. All because of the seed He planted, a seed planted in the wild with intention, made with purpose for a purpose.
I am fearfully and wonderfully made.