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rarekyrose 
8:29am, May 1, 2009
The Crushing of my Spirit
The man walks in your church with his head bowed low.His life is a mess. He has nowhere else to go.He has cheated on his wife. His eyes are full of shame.He has lied to everyone and he knows he is to blame.He wants to be forgiven for his lies and sinful life.He wants to stop the guilt that cuts him like a knife.You’ve been his faithful pastor for the last 10 years.Now, he’s bringing you his messed-up life, guilt, and many tears.He wants to make things right, please tell him what to do.He trusts in your judgment. He trusts his soul to you.You tell him to repent before God and the church.You tell him it’s his job- it’s his heart he has to search-Because there’s many more roots of sin hidden deep.The man bows his head further and then starts to weep.His judgment comes swift and sure when you speak his name.He sentence is a lifetime reaping heartache, grief, and pain. The woman stumbles down the aisle and leans against the pews.Her dress is torn and tattered and she hasn’t any shoes.Beneath her shabby dress one can see she is with child.Her hair is long and matted and her eyes empty and wild.She looks around the church and sees you in you seat.She quickly looks to the floor, your eyes she cannot meet.She used to attend your services, less than a year before.She was asked to leave the church and escorted out the door.He only offense that night was a split that showed her knee.When she left the church that night she was alone as one could be.She has no other family, no other friends at all.Is it really any wonder that in the gutter she did fall?You tell her to look at you, your eyes full of holy fire.You never reach your hand to help pull her from the mire.She cannot meet your eyes- she is too full of shame.Her judgment comes swift and sure when you speak her name.Because she left the church in sin and sowed such sinful seedsHer child will be born facing death because of her sinful deeds.The only hope you offer her is wrapped in guilt and fear,“Return to the church and prove yourself for a year.Follow the church’s standards and listen to the preaching.Attend all the services and memorize the teachings.”The woman hears your words and believes all that you sayShe’ll dedicate her life to the church and to your ways. The girl comes to the services with her parents every night.She sets on the first pew, such a lovely, little sight.Her dresses are long and flowing, modest, below the knee.Her sleeves are at the wrist, no flesh can anyone see.Her feet crossed at the ankle, she stares straight ahead.She listens intently to the songs and hears all that is said.She learns to play the piano and sings songs loud and clear.She believes all the teachings and lives all that she hears.She questions not the standards or the way that she must dress.She trusts in you, her pastor, surely you know what is best! As she grows older, she begins to doubt some things.She wants to look different. She wants to test her wings.She’s tired of being made fun of. She wants to have some friends.She wants to live a normal life. That’s when her peace does end.Her mother takes her before you, in your cozy, little house.The girl’s terrified to speak; she’s quiet as a mouse.She cannot look at you. She feels such guilt and shame.You tower over her and call her by her name,“VALERIE, LOOK AT ME! TELL ME ALL YOUR SINS!IF YOU DON’T CONFESS, Y OU KNOW DEATH WILL WIN!”Terrified, she looks at mom, but mom only glares and nods.She slowly looks at you, above her, tall and looming like a god.She feels so small and helpless. She’s only a little child.She knows you see right through her. She feels dirty and defiled.She begins to sob and tell you of her many, many sins.There are so many secrets. Where should she begin?Finally, you seem satisfied and sit back in your chair.She feels naked and vulnerable, her heart crushed and bare.You pick up your heavy Bible and begin to turn the pages.You begin to tell her of her sins and ask, “WHAT ARE THE WAGES?”She whispers through her tears, “The wages of sin is death.”You tell her that’s HER fate. You hear her catch her breath.She’s just a little girl. She doesn’t want to die!You hear her beg for mercy as she shakes and starts to cry.“YOU HAVE BROUGH A REPROACH ON GOD, YOUR CHURCH, AND ON ME!TESTIFY, CONFESS OPENLY, REPENT, AND THEN WE’LL SEE…” They pray for God’s mercy as her mother holds her hand.They pray the little girl will learn to take a stand.The mother prays the loudest, crying at the top of her lungs.Soon she is screaming at the little girl in unknown tongues. They leave the cozy, little house and walk into the church.The little girl still praying, her soul she still must search.She waits for the moment to stand and make things right.She’s waiting on the first pew, such a lovely, little sight.He dress is long and flowing, modest, below the knee.Her sleeves are at the wrist, no flesh can anyone see.Her feet, crossed at the ankle, she stares vacantly ahead.She listens intently to the songs and hears all that is said.Soon there is a pause between two of the songs.She knows this is her chance to try to right her wrongs.She rises to her feet and walks slowly, as in a daze.She sees the crowd before her as if through a cloudy haze.She cannot look at them. She feels such guilt and shame.Their eyes are full of disappointment, admonition, and blame.She feels tears dripping slowly from her face and chin.But all that she can think of are the wages of her sin. She tells the church her secrets; she’s done a terrible sin.“I’ve wore a bit of make-up and looked into the eyes of several men.PLEASE, forgive me everybody, I’ll be better, you will see.I just want to stay a part of God’s great family.I’m just a little girl and I don’t want to die.I’ll do what it takes, I’ll sing, I’ll testify. I’ll live up to the standards. I’ll memorize the teachings.I’ll learn all the songs. I’ll listen to the preaching.PLEASE, don’t throw me out. PLEASE let me stay.I”ll go down to the altar, please come and help me pray…”The little girl cried and pleaded with the church.Then she knelt down at the altar and her soul began to search.Many people knelt around her and prayed for her sinful soul.They prayed loud in other tongues, how their tears did flow!They were blinded by their judgment, their words cut like a knife.They felt they had the power to give one death of life. She left there that night, her heart and spirit crushed.But she never again objected. Her opinions she kept hushed.She lived the standards perfect. She memorized the teachings.She sang the prettiest songs. She listened to the preaching.She was “mother in the church,” submission she taught others.She was a great example to all her sisters and her brothers. She grew into a quiet lady and came to church each night.She sat with her 3 girls in the second pew, what a lovely sight!Their dresses are long and flowing, modest, below the knee.Their sleeves are at the wrist, no flesh can anyone see. Their feet crossed at the ankle, they stare vacantly ahead.They listen intently to the songs and hear all that is said.Their hair is long and uncut. No make-up touches their skin.They live a rigid, faultless life, nearly perfect, without sin.She’s married a man in the church, selected by her mother.Everyone things highly of him- a faithful, sinless brother.But deep in her sad, broken heart are scars both old and new.She cannot take the abuse anymore but doesn’t know what to do.She turns to her mother and father, her sisters, and to her only friends.Her fantasy world is coming apart, soon her security will end.She is shunned for leaving the marriage. Her children are ripped away.The family turns their back on her and lies are all they say.She has lost all she has ever loved. There is nothing left to give.She wonders most days, why bother to even live?Everything she ever believed was stripped from her heartEverything she’s ever loved has been suddenly torn apart. You’ve destroyed so many lives, haven’t you any shame?You, in your righteous judgment and your Holy blame! That little girls is me, she still sits there, deep inside.But the day that you condemned her, something in her died.She’s waiting on the first pew, such a lovely, little sight.Memorizing the teachings each and every night.Her dress is long and flowing, modest, below the knee.Her sleeves are at the wrist, no flesh can anyone see.Her feet crossed at the ankles, she stares vacantly ahead.She listens intently to the songs and hears all that is said.But this little girls is hollow, she’s empty deep inside.You crushed her tender spirit when you sentenced her to die. On the outside, I’m a lady, but sadness haunts my soul.I feel lost most of the time like I have no where to go.I struggle daily with the past and the scars run deep and wide.Some days I wish you’d have had the power and that I would have died.You stole my childhood from me. You took my trust in man.I cannot see my future. My days I cannot plan.It is a chore to wake up. Most days I’m in a haze.You even took my power to think. I feel I’m in a daze.I don’t know how to dress. How do I fix my hair?What do I watch on T.V.? Is my skin too bare?Each thing I do, I question, is it right or is it wrong?I feel unworthy praying and my heart has lost its song.I feel you’re still standing over me, I feel such guilt and shame.Some days I hear you next to me. I hear you call my name,“VALERIE, LOOK AT ME! TELL ME ALL YOUR SINS!
IF YOU DON’T CONFESS THEN YOU KNOW DEATH WILL WIN!”
