It is enough

It is Enough

I was born in the shadows of sinners and saints,
where mercy and madness sat side by side,
where hymns were sung loud enough to cover the secrets
but never loud enough to silence the truth.

where in the same pews, sin and righteousness co-exist.

I was raised in the house of God,
not the spotless kind you see in picture books,
but the kind where survival was a prayer,
where faith was less about sermons
and more about breathing through the storm.

The blood on my lips
and the dirt on my face
that is the relationship I have with God.
It is bruised. It is battered.
It is not pretty, but it is present.
It is not polished, but it is powerful.

It’s all the relation I’ve got.

And still
still I hear the psalmist cry inside me:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation,
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life,
of whom shall I be afraid?”

When enemies rose like shadows around me,
when betrayal walked through my door,
when abandonment slept in my bed,
I remembered
though an army may encamp against me,
my heart will not fear.
Though war rise against me,
in this I will remain confident.

Because I have seen the face of God in the fire.
I have heard His whisper in the dark.
I have felt His hand in the breaking
yes, even in the breaking.

The blood on my lips,
the dirt on my face,
the tears in my chest
all of it, all of it,
is my covenant with Him.

I don’t carry the robes of priests
or the crowns of prophets.
I carry scars like scripture.
I carry wounds like testimony.
I carry shadows and light
tangled together like the psalmist’s song.

And when I stumble into despair,
I cling to the verse that keeps me standing:
“I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, take heart,
and wait.”

So I wait.
With dirt still on my face.
With blood still on my lips.
With faith still trembling but unbroken in my chest.

Because I was born in the shadows of sinners and saints,
I was raised in the house of God,
and though this world has tried to strip me bare,
still I rise, still I stand, still I believe.

This.
this battered, breathing, breaking faith.
is all the relation I’ve got.
And it is enough.

Spiritually inspired

A poem by N'game'