They found me in the rubble
Of the life I tried to build without You.
Hands shaking, voice gone hoarse from screaming
At a sky that felt like stone.

I told You I was done.
Done praying. Done believing. Done waiting.
And You didn’t flinch.
You didn’t slam the door.
You just knelt lower.

Because the King of glory
Knows what it’s like to be broken.
Nails in His hands,
Thorns in His brow,
And still He whispered, “Father, forgive them.”

So when I whispered, “I can’t go on,”
He didn’t give me a lecture.
He gave me a cross.
And a grave that couldn’t hold Him.

You see, shame tried to name me.
Fear tried to chain me.
But the blood on that wood
Said I was worth the cost.

Now I’m learning to breathe again
In the shadow of a love that doesn’t quit.
Not because I’m good enough,
But because He is faithful enough.

So if you’re listening and you’re tired,
If your faith feels like ash in your mouth—
Hear this:
The One who called Lazarus out of the tomb
Is calling you out of the dark.

And He’s not done with you yet.
Not by a long shot.

Still He calls my name.
Still He makes a way.
Still He is God.

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*Title: Mercy Found Me First*

I came to You with dirty hands
And a list of all the ways I’d failed.
Thought You’d meet me with a gavel,
A verdict, a closed file.

But You met me with a towel
And calloused hands that knew my name.
You knelt in the dirt I was sitting in
And said, “I’m not leaving you here.”

I’ve built altars to my shame,
Fed it with every late-night memory,
Watched it grow into a god
That told me I was too far gone.

But the cross laughed at that lie.
Because the God who spoke galaxies into being
Chose to be broken for me.
Not for the version of me I post online,
But for the me at 2 AM,
Crying into my pillow,
Convinced I’d worn out grace.

And here’s the wild part—
He didn’t wait for me to clean up.
He came while I was still a mess,
Still running, still doubting, still proud.
Grace didn’t knock.
Grace kicked the door down.

So now when accusation screams,
I point to the scars.
When fear says “you’re alone,”
I remember the garden at 3 AM.
When I want to quit,
I hear Him say, “I finished it.”

I’m not who I was.
And I’m not who I’ll be.
But right now, right here—
I’m held.

Mercy found me first.
And mercy’s not letting go.

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