My Confession (A poem of sorts)

I confess that I am human.  I am not perfect.  I do fail.

I confess that I don’t know what is going on. I don’t understand it all.  I don’t know.

I confess that I am confused.  I am befuddled.  I am lost.

I confess that I need things: encouragement, affirmation, direction, feedback.

I confess that I am disappointed: in myself, my spiritual growth, my much-too-quick tendency to feel guilt and shame.

I confess that I am weary, tired of standing on my feet, tired of doing all the work.

I confess that I am disconnected.  At times, I feel like I’m in a ditch somewhere with no clue what’s going on.

I confess that I have room to grow.  I do have weaknesses.  I do fall.

I confess that I want: companionship, spiritual maturity, consistency.

I confess that I am scared.  I am unsure of my future in another’s hands.  I am wary.

I confess that I was angry.  I wanted explanations.  I was blind.

I confess that I am growing.  He is working in me.  I am not dormant, but alive.

I confess that I want to grow more, but I am scared of the sacrifices.  I don’t want to move backwards to move forwards.

I confess that I like rhythm.  I like predictability.  I don’t like chaos.

I confess that I like being in control, but hate having full responsibility for anything too big.

I confess that I have trouble seeing my own flaws sometimes.  Other times, I can’t get past them.

I confess that my priorities aren’t always aligned where they should be. 

I confess that sometimes I don’t want to grow.  I like where I am at.  I don’t want to move.

I confess that I need more time with my Father.  I need more of Him to sustain me each day.

I confess that I think I can do things on my own.  I can’t.  I have trouble remembering this.

I confess that I spend too much time on things that don’t matter.  I lose sight of what’s important.

I confess that I think I am the stuff sometimes.  I am not always humble.  I wish I was.

I confess that I cry.  I am broken.  I am being healed.

I confess that I have trouble trusting sometimes.  I am tentative. 

I confess that I sometimes feel self-sufficient.  I have trouble asking for help. 

I confess that I am independent, but long to be totally dependent on Him.

I confess that I don’t feel capable, equipped, or ready.

I confess that I am Christina.  I am His child.  I am on a journey.  I am not done.