"Epiphany 3"

Those who know me well know that I was a big Myspace blogger at some point in time. I posted Epiphany 1 and 2 there.

This is Epiphany 3. It started out as a creative piece but it really became what I was feeling at that moment.

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And everything came crashing down at me like a cold pan of ice.
I looked around me from where I was sitting on the floor--shivering, crudely clothed, and wet.
Humiliated.
I saw the faces of many people in my mind. People from my past and present. I thought of all the pain I've experienced and all the pain I've caused. Too much water under my shaky bridge.
This is what happens when I ignore You. This is what happens when I pretend to have it all together. And this is what happens when I talk too much and pray too little.
My idle mouth. Oh, for the ability to NOT speak! To not have one horrible, dripping word be uttered again!
I could stick to writing! In writing you can think things out--at least, in letter writing you can. But the quick impulsiveness of AIM makes for many regretful conversations. As does texting--oh, technology, you have impaled me.
But I am still accountable. Every word from my lips or from my fingers now hangs around me like shards of glass from a broken mirror. Each day, my words--and those of others--dog my every step.
Words.
"Words, words, words," Shakespeare made Hamlet say. The emotion of this fragmented sentence makes me astonishingly empathetic now.
Ok, I'm done. You're right, I'm wrong. I failed yet AGAIN. An unconfessed sin can weigh on the mind like an anvil on a seashell--something's gotta give. There are many anvils here--along with the weights others have placed on me. Can I still give them to You?
Will you still call this mess Your daughter?
But tonight, I will break through the concrete ceiling. You have found me, and I am broken--and You want to make me new. Oh, how long I have resisted Your love. I thought I didn't need You. Or I thought You didn't want me. But now these things have been confirmed--I am sick, dirty and dying. My time here is short compared to where You are, sitting in that "helicopter" watching time from the outside.
Timeless. You are in a place where there is no time. No clocks, no tissue boxes, no medicine. Eternity is not measured in years--eternity is not measured at all. It is immeasurable.
And yet, Your Son came and entered a place where there is time, where He could get sick, where He could be tempted.
He did not waver, though, in His love. In Your love.
LOVE incarnated.
And now, because He intervened--because He took my punishment--I can have freedom and fullness of life.
And You can heal me, You can cleanse me, and You can make me alive again.
I am humbled.
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So, there it is. My Pastor actually once described God as being in a helicopter watching time. Not literally, of course.
I am a Christian. I am not perfect, though--just forgiven.