Use Me

You say you want to use me. But you are God. Can't you see I am useless? Worth less? Less than some other woman. Less than any woman.

Can't you see all those pretty, dainty, sweet women, who don't even like to swear? Can't you see there are other woman who are far more humble, meek, sincere, kind and worthy of you? Worth more than me. Worth more than a hundred of me.

How can I tell them how much you love them, when I won't accept that you love me? Can't accept it. Can't believe you offer it. Can't believe you offer it even after you look inside my heart and see me. Can't believe you want to see me. Want to love me. Want me. Me. You know who that really is, yet you pursue her anyway.

Oh my precious Jesus, please don't look at her. At the woman who's shattered pieces stare blankly back at me from mirrored glass. At the me I see. Not yet. Not like this.

Look at one of those women who don't like the way a wine glass feels in her hand or the tingling of champagne in her mouth. Who doesn't hold disdain in her mouth. Speak pain from her mouth.

Surely she can love you in the open air and not hide behind clean floors and polished nails. Surely she won't hide under her sparkling personality or beg you not to look at her when she cries, when she's naked, when she's scared.

You want a woman who won't think rafters and plaster can hide her from you. Hide her from the world. Hide her from her.

Trust me, my magnificent savior. I know what they need. I know what they want. I know. Know I am unworthy. Know I am unclean. Know I am not what they want. Not what they need. Not who you want. Not who you need.

Trust me, sweet gracious maker, you must be trying to speak to the lady next door. You know, the one who works in children's church. Heck, you might even want to talk to the woman across the street. I heard she has weekly bible studies over there. She even knows how to cook...and likes it.

Surely that's who you are trying to call. It's not my call. Not a call to talk to your creation. Not a call to spread your love.

All I have is You. You. You, my darling friend, are all I have left.

What? You mean that's enough? Your kidding right? I mean, your funny like that sometimes, so I'm just making sure. Oh. Your being serious.

You want me to trust you. Trust that I can still be used. Trust that I am wrong about you trusting me. That I am worthy of your love. That's why you died...for me. Even me?

Trust you. Trust that you really want me. To know that what I know is wrong. You do need me. Need me to tell them how much you love them. That you died for them. Especially for them.

Even when they are naked and ashamed. Even when they are afraid. Afraid of you. Afraid they are not worthy. Afraid they are useless. Worth less than others. Not worth your love.

Won't accept your love. Can't accept your love. Can't believe you are pursuing them. That you want them. You need them.

Even when they are unclean. Even when they are broken. Even when they hide from your grace. You will find them, fill them, use them, save them.

Oh my loving master, use me. Help me introduce them to You. To the One who made me, saved me, and showed me a mirror that only sees You. Help me reflect Your love.