a prayer for the raw
when I feel stripped bare,
scuffed with the harshest grit,
worn against the grain,
I look to you, Jesus,
Perfecter of our faith.
I am unfinished.
my rough edges are likely
to gouge painful splinters into anyone
who tries to touch me;
I am stained, scratched, discolored.
I’ve been badly worn.
I’m marred with botched repair jobs–
silly me, thinking I could disguise
trying to make my scars
silly me, thinking all those sloppy layers of
camouflage could make me whole.
only you, Jesus,
are the Completer,
the Finisher of our faith.
have mercy on this unlikely heart.
have mercy on this ragged spirit.
have mercy, and be
the Restorer of this raw life.