Hatred of Sin

So tired of being in the way.
So tired of sin.
So tired of not being like You.
not being with You.

Your work in me is not yet done on this earth,
but I'm ready to be home and to be done with this battle.
To finally have victory over my human condition, sin.

I hate what I do, yet I can't stop.
I'll say I'm done, but before I know, I'm back here again.
I'm so not like you. I'm so not faithful.
I'm not good.
You live in me and bring anything good.
I live in me and I just bring destruction and rebellion.
I bring heartache. I bring what I hate.
Sin is living in me, like a virus that just won't die.
Epstein-Barr Virus.
It's always there. I can't get rid of it.
No matter how hard I try I can't get rid of the sin living in me.
I take certain measures to prevent flair-ups.
I sleep more, eat better, take vitamins,
Walk away, call people, time on my knees, time in Your word.
Yet, I do not take care. The virus flares. I'm overwhelmed.
I find myself in the midst of dealing with the symptoms again.

I seek Your face. Your blood on the cross.
How do you see me as sinless, when I stab you in the back daily.
You look on me and see Your son.
Your son. The Son you gave for me.
O, what happened on that cross that You should look on me this way.
I can't bare to talk to your Son, who had to look at my sin, then chose to die.
What can I say? What can I do?
How filthy am I that I could talk to Him? That I should talk to Him?
Anger. Rage. Malice, Deceit. Lust. I'm guilty of them all.
My dirty sins nearly match my pretty sins.
Pride. Better thinking of myself. Not doing. Not trusting. Looking down on.
Guilty on all charges.

So how is it that I could have this interaction with Your Son?
The name, I struggle to mention, in my guilty state.
The only name, only person who can free me. The only thing or act that can cleanse me.
To understand why you did this, I may never understand.
You've written Love, is the answer. But the love I know and show does not look like this.
Yet you say it is this Love. You speak to me when I can't even say your name.
I cry. I weep. I fall on my knees before you. Hating what I do.
You who should stand on your throne, away from me. Judging me justly.
You are right to do this. You are correct and good for your justice.
And. . . and you pick me up.
You hug me.
When I can't stand to be in your royal courts. I'm facedown in front of your throne.
You leave your throne. You come down to me. You pick me up.
Without saying a word, you wrap your arms around me and begin to cry.
You hold me tight and whisper, "Welcome home Son. I've missed you. I Love so much."
"I Love you more than you can imagine, more than you'll ever know."




How do I respond?
How can I follow the greatest love ever whispered in my ear?
I want to swear my allegiance here and now to never leave.
How ridiculous would it be to leave this place?
Yet, reality sets in and I know that I'll leave again.
I know my short memory. I know how easily I will forget this place.
I know this virus in me will flare and I will give. So short sighted.
I pray that I would have a long memory. I would remember this place.
Remember Your love. As I enter the battlefield I will never stop fighting.
Let this time, this Love, this heartache, this reuniting,
Let this be the desire of my heart and the fuel in the battle.
Let me always find myself here when I fail.
I pray that I don't, but when I do. Let me come back to this place of unworthiness.
To find myself in your courts. I won't ask for your Love, for it is something I cannot imagine.
I ask that you would find me here, on me knees, in surrender again.