What I Have to Give You
And then the one the next week.
I wanted to say something,
To ask you where you've been keeping all those words.
Brave, raw, powerful, honest words.
Have I never heard you speak?
We might have spent years of our lives in silence,
Looking at the same people.
Talking about everything that doesn't matter,
Too afraid that we'll be judged. Too busy judging to stop being afraid.
And last week I was too afraid I'd say the wrong thing.
But God is not a God of fear.
He is a God of love.
Casting aside my fear
leaves me with a reality more solid than
any silence,
any pain,
and anything you or I have ever done
or could ever do.
Love.
Like warmth reaching through every dark night,
crying alone, hurting alone,
penetrating every angry, cutting thought,
"you're not good enough," "you can't fix this."
Illuminating all for what it is:
Lies
Because with love we are so strong,
so powerful, so unstoppable
that Satan can't afford to let us get there.
No matter what you do.
No matter what you've done.
No matter how many times we've not known what to say,
or how many times we wished we were better or
could make right the things falling around us,
I love you.
Like soul deep, you better keep on fighting, don't you dare give up,
love.
It's in the silence.
It's in the words we cannot speak.
It's in the tears I cried for you.
It's absolute. It's permanent.
And that's as close as I can get to God.
And the only thing real I can give you.