Your fingerprints are marked in every tender memory of my life,
in every sorrow,
in every wound,
in every pain,
in every smile.
There is not much I recall, Abba,
about my days growing up,
except for the fact that I refused to give in to death
just to prove that I was strong.
I emptied out my soul through ink or through lead,
in order to make space for the brokenness that waited just ahead.
I see now that even the hardest lessons lived,
traced the path that finally led me to be free.
You made me stubborn, and a fighter;
persistent and a writer
sensitive to brokenness
and willing to stand up from it.
You made me capable of seeing beyond one’s masks and inabilities
into the true silhouette of Your creation:
the whisper of Your intentions.
So here I am Lord, just as You found me;
maybe with some cuts and bruises,
but with no remnant of the excuses.
Create in me Lord, a heart like Yours,
a heart that beats to love the broken and the lost.
Transform and mold me into what you will me to be
for even if you break me, only you can set me free.
I want to serve you
to live for you
to be used by you!
Create in me a pure heart,
and allow me to be an instrument of who you are.