Here I am again.
I went away.
Now I am back.
I am never gone for long.
Oh how I hate it here.
I hate it even more that I am here again.
Because it means that I have hurt You again.
Down on my knees.
Tears streaming from my eyes.
I can feel the pain I have brought upon You again.
The very One who takes all my pain away as if it did not exist.
I do not feel very thankful right now.
It almost feels as though it would be a lie.
Another lie on top of an endless tower of lies.
"I'm sorry" just does not seem worthy after all You have done for me and continue as so.
I do not mean to do what I do.
But, I still do what I do.
I do not mean to say what I say sometimes.
Once again, I still say all that I say.
"I'm just a man" is such a lame excuse.
And an even worse explanation.
"I know not what I do", is just a lie.
I know exactly what I am doing.
Even though I rarely think anything through.
You deserve so much more than I ever give You.
You are much more than just my Heavenly Father.
You are my Lord and God!
My Saviour!
The One who forgave me for all of my sins.
And still consider me so.
You still call me son.
You never show me anger.
You never punish me.
You never turn me away.
I know not why You even continue to bother with a man such as I am.
I do not understand Your love for me.
I am so completely undeserving.
Even more so, I am unworthy of You.
Still, You continue to love me.
Still, You accept me into Your presence.
The few times that I come to You.
Your grace still remains with me.
I am just a mere man.
I have lied, I have cheated, I have stolen.
I have been one with the wicked.
I have been wicked.
I have been unclean.
Out of my mouth has come many curses.
I have shown great hate.
I have shown anger and even rage.
I have measured out so much judgement.
And have been measured the same.
I have been violent.
I have been hurt and I have hurt.
Still, You love this poor excuse of a man.
Much less a child of God.
You have never given up on me.
You continue to bring many blessings upon me.
Do I deserve such?
Do I give such?
I know not.
I am not.
Still, You say that I am.
Still, You show great grace.
I have never known any of the such from anyone.
You are thee One and Only.
I do not feel worthy to even speak Your Name, as Holy as You are.
But as here I am again.
You lift me to standing and send me on my way.
Walking in the light of Your boundless and unfailing love.
"My son, my son, you will forever be my son."
I hear You say.
I stop and look back, where I was is gone.
I turn and look ahead and I can see the light giving me sight of the path I belong on.
The path You put me on a long time ago.
"I love you, my child, and I always will, no matter what."
I drop to my knees.
"Father, all I can say is thank You."
Again, You lift me to my feet and send me on my way.
Somewhere deep within my heart I know You will always be with me wherever I go.
No matter what.
Faithful is who You are.



  1. Scott David, this poem is so raw and heartfelt...it reflects the depravity of who we are without Our Lord Jesus Christ. God said He has cast our sins from us as far as the east is from the west. If you think about this, that is a non-existent space, and to me means that in Christ Jesus our sins become non-existent to God. God is outside of time and so is The Cross--this means we are forgiven, once and for all, of everything in our time-oriented past, present, or future. Out of your failures came such a beautiful portrayal of God's forgiveness. We are prodigal children, whom God welcomes into His Kingdom with open arms. If God resented mankind, He never would have endured The Cross. On the cross, Our Lord Jesus Christ spread out His arms so wide, and told us how much He loves us. Thank you so much for bringing visibility to that which is invisible....

  2. The LORD hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles.Psalms 34:17
    I believe this is the prayer of one that not only loves God but acknowledges that even with all the mistakes we do in life, Our God's love remains.


I'd love to know what you think of this poem.