Thank you

Lord, I come to you
that it’s sorted
knowing that all the stuff I’ve said and done
all the evil thoughts I’ve nursed
all the nasty, yucky stuff that’s in me –
it’s all sorted, dealt with, nailed to the cross where you died.

I thank you,
my wonderful Saviour,
that through your blood I can be cleansed and forgiven
I can come to the Creator of the whole world and call him Daddy
I can confess to him the stuff that I feel guilty about
knowing that he isn’t waiting to beat me up with a big stick
though I do deserve it
knowing that you already took the beating
so I can come to the Almighty God, King of the Universe,
confessing the stuff I’m guilty of,
knowing that it’s already dealt with
knowing that his answer will always be the same:
neither do I condemn you. go and sin no more.

Thank you, Jesus.
© Meirav M. 2014



my name is meirav and I’m human and fallible and not always very nice. my heart is not full of love and beautiful stuff. there is ugliness in there. selfishness. yucky stuff. and in one sense it isn’t ok, and then in another sense it is – it’s sorted. sorted by the only one who could.

thank you, Jesus, my saviour, my messiah, my lord and master, my God. thank you that it’s not up to me to somehow magically make myself ok, by some impossible exercise of willpower. thank you that you have done it, and all I have to do is hang onto you for dear life. safe, like a child in a papoose carrier. safe in you. safe because of you. saved.