BOWED

I must bow my life.
Kiss the feet of a Saving God.
Break the jar of everything I thought was good about me.
Pour it over His toes.
And mingle the mess of  what I think to be my moral "decency"
With tears because...
What can I offer this perfect Jesus?
What in all the world can I bring a Savior?
A Savior Who took my murdering, adulterous, idolatrous heart?
And had it nailed clean through His hands into wood?
A Savior Who said, "It is finished."
A Savior Who said, "I love you this way."
Someone tell me.
What can I bring?
What can I bring to a God Who loves His Son?
And sends His Son?
To have His precious feet hammered down?
With spikes that have my name on them?
Oh, Jesus.
Here...
I pour out myself, Lord.
I give you all my brokenness and shame and guilt and...sin.
I kiss your feet and my hair pools in the dirt.
I give you my body, and my mind, and my soul.
I bow my whole life to You, my Jesus.
I give You all this mess.
I give You all of me, and...
I love You.
Take me if You will, and use me if You can.
But let me stay in Your presence always.

Bowed,

Bernadette