I know how you see me. I can hear the distance in your casual, “how are ya?” There You give just enough words as to not completely abandon me, but they hardly makes a significant connection, especially when you don’t wait for an answer. And the truth is sometimes hard, and is always more time consuming than I know you can tolerate. I know you’re busy and there’s little room in your life for anything more. I know I’m not what I was or what you thought I was. I know how important appearances are to you. I used to have glittery things to show for my life – things that made me “enough.” But it was really the root of my ugliness. They were trophies I needed to prove my worth. They are gone now and I have only Him. From the outside, I’m nothing to be proud of. There’s nothing very pretty about where my life is. Our association hardly makes you look good. I know that. I just wish you would take the time to look closer, below the surface. Look beyond the easy answers. Look beyond the bloody scars left by my Master’s carving. Maybe you will see the beauty that destitution left. Maybe you will see a heart that loves you and longs for your sincerity and your attention. And maybe that’s why I don’t have it. It’s God’s merciful jealousy that refuses to give what would take His place. I find myself longing to know that you see something in me that makes me worth your time. Is there enough good in me that makes you want to know me and not just relate to me from your assumptions? Do I ever even cross your mind?
Don’t think too much of yourself. You’re not the only golden idol in my temple. You are just one of many in the pantheon of my heart. You are there, insecurely perched on the pedestal I built for you. And I worship there more than I wish to admit, always aching for your nod and the approval of the others I’ve chosen to deify.
I know if only I could lift my prostrate head long enough to gaze beyond these empty gods, I could see the One lifted above all others. Only his alter is a cross, and its magnificence calls to me. It humbly asks, “Why do you need them to make you feel worthy? Is it not enough that I chose you? Does it not satisfy you to know that I sing over you, I delight in you, and I pursue you? You’re lovely enough. My thoughts towards you are like the stars in the heavens. I see you with the eyes that made you. What more could their approval offer?”
Is this not what I desire from man? He freely gives to every need in my heart and I return His love with the same half-hearted attention you give that leaves me so cold and alone. I find it ironic that longing to be “enough” in the your eyes denies my claims that He is enough for me. The only One worthy of all adoration and praise knows the pain of of being rejected for “not being enough” – and not just by those who don’t know Him, but by my heart that know His voice and has been healed by His scarred hands.