redemption psalm

written circa april 2014
this was written as part of my church’s 10 week redemption immersion counseling course. the assignment was to write your own psalm. redemption is based upon the book of the same name by mike wilkerson of mars hill church in seattle. it take participants through the book of Exodus and relates the journey of the Hebrews to their own individual journey. for more information you can find the book here and information about redemption groups here.

it’s getting late. the darkness sets in and i am trapped here, trapped by this thing, trapped by my brain, my heart, my disastrous willpower. my eyes are transfixed. (i wish i could quit but it’s in my blood and now i am bound)

it rationalizes itself. (it’s funny how all demons know just the right argument to snare each victim). it’s tells me it’s no different from the words i hear from the mouth of the preacher man. they use the same words. there is a parallel. it is what i was created for. submissive. submission. submit. be good. obedient.

i want it out of me. no matter how much i claw at my flesh and empty my stomach into the shower drain it’s still there, tainting my blood and flooding my thoughts. but i guess this is the price i must pay for allowing myself to be consumed.

penance for a wicked heart.

there is irony in it. it makes you wish so much to be trapped that you don’t even know it’s already got you bound.

but it’s not enough to simply consume. this thing wants more, is never satisfied. it’s lures me deeper. it makes me go deeper into the underground.

i want to go deeper. i am curious and i need it. i need it.

my nerves have fault lines and an earthquake erupts with every thought. i quake at random times and feel ashamed for the thoughts in my head. they’re always there. get them out. get them out. i beat myself and bruise myself to try and stop the earthquake. i’ve stopped going out around people because i know they can see the earthquakes. i know i am stained by this thing and i know they can see it. i am ashamed.

it’s taken all feeling from inside me and i now know i am dead. i watch myself mimicking the performances i have seen… for men i don’t know and will never meet. i’m sharing the gospel of lust and i feel both loved and used.

i just want to be loved and this is how you get love, right? by exposing your flesh to men. then they will love you… right?

but in the chaos i feel something in the pit of my heart. something is off. something feels wrong.

i hear a whisper in the middle of the shouting and the moaning. i hear a whisper. just one word. come. my brain freezes and i start to cry. this voice seems so gentle, how is it part of this horrible world too? come/cum. this word, it haunts me.

the whisperer breathes again. come away. come away with me.

there is a stirring in the same spot in my heart. pulsing in a place i had long thought frozen. i get up… transfixed by this new voice. it leads me to the preacher man’s book, to a place where i feel the way this thing promised it would. one of many broken promises.

i want to dance with this newfound beauty. to put on the new dress and spin in circles with the whispering voice who calls himself Father. he fills me with joy and laughter. with him i am alive. i think i smile for the first time in so many moons.

but it doesn’t last. the voice in my head, the thoughts have found me in this hiding place. they beckon me back to “where i belong.” the say that what i have here isn’t real. they talk. they convince. and like a dog returns to it’s vomit i too return to the darkness, to the place with the prison walls, to the place where i am not allowed to dance.

but something changed since i left. it’s like the scales have been removed and i can see the deception for what it is. i can see what i am doing and i am disgusted. i am ashamed.

but there is no way i could go back to the dancing Father with his gifts and his love, right? his love. it was different.

i hear the whisper again. this time a similar but different voice. it says beloved. it doesn’t call me to come away. it reaches a hand to pull me closer, to pull me back to the field of the lilies where i danced.

in the field i fall at my knees. i don’t deserve this kindness. i don’t deserve this kind of love. tears like rivers fall from my eyes and i know i am too tainted to be here. i can’t be here. i’ll taint the Father and the one who calls me beloved. i’ve hurt them and i can’t do that. somehow i know they are pure, too pure to even look at me.

but the man who pulled me away takes my chin in his scarred hands and lifts up my face to look me right in the eyes. and… and he… he smiles.

i feel my heart shatter and i gasp. i collapse into this shepherd’s arms. i try to speak, but his finger goes to my lips. the heart that shattered, my heart, is in his hand. he crushes it and it blows away in the wind. a new heart doth he give me. it’s his. his.

and i finally know that i am forever loved. i am the woman kissing his feet and anointing him with oil. i am the woman redeemed. i am the woman forever grateful. i am loved. i am not ashamed.

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