Struggle

An empty shell, a hollow ball;
Inside, defiant, I stand tall.
Putting on a facade to fool, to seem -
I'm starting to recognise a greater need.

It grows larger with each passing day,
As I grow sicker of my own way.
I turn bewildered from hand to hand,
Wondering who to fight and where to stand.

I pick up the Bible, bemusement increase,
I see Christ must control, as to be I must cease.
Yet in several corners, raging battles go on -
Though it's already decided Christ the Victor has won.

I want to trust, but my fear is too great.
Can my heart squeeze through that narrow gate?
I want to give in, to surrender complete,
But the pain that will come pulls me back on my feet.

Why do we fight and refuse to draw near?
Why open our hearts to adversaries like fear?
Why allow pain to cause an oozing sore
Instead of trusting God through wounds so raw?

"Surely He can see!" our hearts cry.
"The last person to take any more must be I!
I can't cope with the fear, the pain and the stress -
Where are the promises of peace and to bless?"

It is only when we crumple in heaps of despair
That we realise He's standing in wait of a prayer.
At our faint full surrender to let Him take control,
He waits til we're nothing to heal our souls.

~ Jane, 18/11/10