Honeycomb

        My heart is like a honeycomb.

Tiny pockets filled with things that make their home in me.

Things in the future, things in the present,

things that are merely remnants

of a past that is no longer me.

Things I don’t even know,

places I don’t even go.

Things that are true, things that are a lie,

things that are more than meets the human eye.

 

My heart is filled with so many things

that need to be scooped out,

that need to be replaced with Christ Himself.

I get lost in myself, trying to figure my heart out,

which is why He sweeps in me

like a woman searching for a lost coin.

 

I want to do the seeking myself, but I get torn,

and that’s when I realize that in myself,

I know nothing about feeling at home.

 

I don’t know myself,

proven by my wandering,

lost in all the pockets I find, seek, hide and keep.

But He knows exactly where to go, what to touch.

He knows me best, searching my deepest depths,

knowing my heart, melting my heart

for Him.


Luke 15:9

Refuge

It’s only because I fell

into the cracks of the sidewalk

that you couldn’t walk all over me.

I was hidden

in the cleft of the rock.

 

And it’s only because

I was in the palm of His hand,

though you yanked and pulled,

I was kept to only see

His brilliant face.


Exodus 33:21-22; Matthew 5:8; Revelation 22:4