Prodigal Son

As I sat in the mess of blankets on my bed last night, I took out my journal and pencil and began scribbling a poem. It turned out to be something totally different than I had imagined when I began writing. The idea in my head originally was to map out a poem that followed the journey of a believer on their drifting away from Christ, and the road back to the cross. But instead, it follow the journey of a believer and the thoughts and feelings after they turn their back on God. I don't know if I wrote it "right", and it's only a rough draft, but I just wanted to share it with you. Feel free to comment and post suggestions.

I walk through this valley
Satan's voice tempting me at every corner.
I am derailed from life's path,
and the world caves in all around me.
The sex
the drugs
the drinking
are all my new refuges.


I have become one of "them".
The ones Christians point out on the street as wretched and lost,
the ones who party because they have nowhere else to hide their sin.


I am a hypocrite.
I have become a rotten soul
not worth dying for.
You cannot convince me of anything,
not a hope,
a faith,
or a love.
It doesn't matter what 1 Corinthians 13 says.
I am unworthy of Christ's love.


But what about Paul the Apostle, you say?
What about Rahab?
What about the prodigal son?
I have wandered afar.
So far,
that I have become spiritually broken.
My soul is not satisfied
with the things I consume it with.
I am desperate for more.

So why don't you show me that?
Why don't you spare me a quarter so I can buy something to eat?
Why don't you see the hurt in my eyes and pull me away from the guy with his arms all over me?
Why don't you look at my ugly, scarred, dirty face, but at the well-dressed businessman?

I am no one to you.
Yet your gospel preaches that you are to
"love your neighbor as yourself" and
"feed the broken".
I don't see that.
So how can I believe your message?


[10/29/2011]