Something New [a poem]

Jacob Wrestles

Often, I wrestle with God.

I am

a doubter.  I regret my own suspicions and fears

and I am also strangely grateful.

Yes, I am glad.

For to wrestle is honest.

And I have seen that as I face my darkest hours, as twilight turns

to morning and I am awake, still.

As I am fighting and the agony of depression and anxiety seem to overwhelm.

God is my comforter.  Even as I

fight, I know his consolation and that all this comes, unsurprisingly.

All this is for me.

Somehow I know that it is through the dog of depression jumping at my heels

and the albatross  of fear

heavy on my shoulders, and the arrows of anxiety stabbing at my chest,

I know that God is God,

and I am simply and solely,

wholly and fully, unabashedly

beloved.  Oh, I may plead

with God to bless me, but I understand its slow coming.  And my slow

learning that even here, now, today I am blessed.

I may walk through life

with this sorrow, the scars that are constant and deep, so deep

for I have been wounded.  I cry out

begging God to prove himself to me.  Does he mean for my life

to mean — anything?

Can I trust you, God?

Can I count on you for whatever the future holds?

Trust you that my life matters?

I know

these encounters in the dark, the isolation and despair of depression

change me.  Deep within, through my abrasions and soul pain,

God is making

something new.

I bear the mark of my pain, scars.  Perhaps I always will.

But I am also

something else. Therein is promise.  And hope.

I am something redeemed.  So even while I stumble, shattered

I am being made strong – perhaps even useful, resolute

and yes, somehow my life is something good.

I believe

when God made me he was pleased.

And nothing I can do, have done, will do

changes that.

Deep within

my abrasions and soul pain, God is making

something new.

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