My desire, my purpose
Exceeds my abilities
Intimidated by this sacred
Responsibility
I yearn for the familiar
That grants me a security
Not to be relied upon
The chaos within me
Seeks to destroy
Even that which is left in me
My personal hell
I pray to be excused, for favor
The strength I use to be here
Cripples me under the load
I focus, I cry, I beg, I reason
And then I crumble, a cowardly heap
Crawling in search of a morsel, even a hint
Of grace
My efforts, my efforts
They always fail, miserably
So with humble shame and
Total inadequacy
I approach Him
And I beg for Portia’s mercy
This poem easily accounts for 80% of my feelings and views on walking with Christ.