Turn My Water into Wine
I have cringed in shame.
In shame, a life under curse has lain.
Every day I labor and pray.
This heart, this soul needs change.
Truths frees and some stings:
Like knowing that inside, wickedness never flees.
This weight of sadness presses on,
like a jar of not so potable water that I have to drink on.
But before I came to be, you knew my water can never run as deep
So, you came in so much slick, in your own time, steady and humbly
while I’m being poured to my own reek;
married to darkness, engaged in a lifetime of ignominy
I have called and perhaps not,
yet you knocked and listened to an insolent pride.
You stirred me in love and gentleness
my empty jars, you filled with future and promises
From your truth, grace and peace whence emerge my Vine,
Always, you would invite, ‘Come and I will turn your shame into wine.’
You lifted my curse, patched waves into my staleness
and for this, I have longed and thirst for what all men have yearned so long ago.