This was going to be a song, and then it turned into a long poem, and now I think its more of a short story… but a true story of my life that comes from Isaiah 30:12-22 and details my sin in doubt and unbelief and the mercy of the great High Priest who for some reasons always comes to rescue me. His reason is love, but I have yet to understand it. Hope you enjoy it!
I’d been building these wall bricks at a time. I thought they were special; made of porcelain.
Someone suggested I’d stop because of the carcass I’d started enclosing in.
Be careful of the sin it will bring and the doubt it will king. You’ll get used to the flavor and all the songs it will sing
will erase all memory of any bleeding savior. The stench becomes spice and further away falls the meaning of life: to die is gain, to live is Christ.
But these porcelain bricks built up so nice.
Once my walls were built complete, I sat on my throne; proud, a king.
My fears were safe, my memories in keep… no one disturbed
yet there was no peace and there was somebody screaming “I want to be free”.
I started searching for this little lost soul held captive inside.
I began roaming my kingdom, just hoping to find
from where they were hiding and why from my eyes.
This is the kingdom I built, you’d think I would know every crevice, every hole.
Yet, there were those places I was unwilling to go.
While I was searching someone knocked on my gate and asked if they could help me find my soul.
Being afraid to admit my weakness, hidden, He stayed outside my porcelain wall.
His voice was gentle, but I couldn’t give in, not with the missing soul within.
He may have come back, day after day, leaving with warning; but, the speaking was screaming and I knew not the way.
So in a pile of shame I started digging a grave.
This neighbor approached me as a friend a long side me.
His name was company and the sweet words he spoke to me slowly made me forget.
I could no longer hear screaming, knocking or fear or remember the taste of regret.
So I delve into his presence, growing weak in my sentence as king,
unaware of the knocking, unaware of its stings.
My porcelain walls began cracking, my kingdom was shattering. My friend led me to a mirror too see the king that I was
was now this monster too fat to protect all the sin I’d kept in.
The pounding was louder, fear encroached on my friend who’d left me to tarry- and no friend he was
so the screaming began much louder than ever.
I could hardly move to find these fetters until the shattering glass began
to cut my skin, releasing this monster, releasing this king
who’s face beheld every picture of loneliness, doubt, and sin
to die in the ground and never seen again.
Once the dust had scattered from my shattered high porcelain wall,
a figure before me gently emerged, holding out his hand and not speaking a word.
No words of condemnation, no nods of grief.
I knew from His face and I believed from His side,
it was the little girl He heard screaming inside “I want to be free”
so quiet, so weak that He had come now to take hold of and release.
We walked out together, porcelain crackling beneath our feet like old, dried up autumn leaves
but had really been melted beneath the summer heat, and covered in snow by the one who redeems.
And yet treasures in broken jars of clay are all of we.