You ever sat there wondering who has the words you need to hear,And at the very same time fearThey’ll fall on deaf ears because you’ve heard them said many times beforeAnd yet here you are again, your life in pieces lying scattered on the floor, I thought I would have got it by now but somehowChange as I would have it seems to have its own ideasAnd the longer it evades me the saltier the tearsWondering if he hearsMy desperation to be free from all the liesBecause I’ve let them suit me so well I’ve used got used to the tiesIt’s like these voices have clothed me so regularly some how they’ve become acceptable And so I find myself entertaining the idea that maybe I’m rejectableFeasting on my fragility like it’s something delectableI guess no-one walks through life without being susceptibleI mean sometimesSometimes, I walk in to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror, the walls behind me fall and seem to become stalls and in the court room of my mind there are people staring back at me.I’m drawn immediately to faces of people who know me but perhaps haven’t seen behind the curtain,the ones who always smile and seem pleased to see me but I’m never certain,because the thought that dominates my mind is ‘if they knew the truth about me’before the accuser stands up and makes his case loudly:This man isn’t who you think he is in fact he’s actually much worse,don’t believe he’s got it altogether because you see him serving coffee before church, you didn’t see the way he cursed those other drivers last weekand you haven’t seen him lose his temper when he speaks;to his wife when they argue the lack of patience for his brother,the way he struggled with his eyes and turned a stranger to a lover.Worse than any of this though, he often doubts what he proclaims,tells other people they are loved whilst he wrestles with shame.He’s a fraud he falls short I don’t think he’s ever going to change soYou may as well give up now and save everybody the pain.There’s just silence as the echo of these claims bounce around my mindand I struggle to look in the mirror and meet my own eyesbecause I see a man who fears that knowing the failures listed are certainly all true, Asking will I still with open arms be welcomed by you?And before I can think of any more reasons to build a case,I sense the hand of the Father gently lift my face.He looks straight in to my eyes, close enough that I can see my reflection in his;and says the little man staring back is the apple of my eye, it is for love you exist.See this is the reflection that really matters but you have to come close enough to see, that your identity as my beloved is only determined by me.You are the object of my affection the only version of your design,the only Pete crafted for your purpose which I alone can assign.And If time has tried to hold your life for ransom setting deadlines for my grace Then allow me to lift your load and remind you I set the paceI say you are beloved before you open your eyes in the morningbefore you leave your front door and join in with the masterpiece I am forming, see the world elevates success and demands results before celebration,and when you judge and condemn your behaviour I say I’m full of adoration, that you brought all your broken pieces and dropped them at my feetBecause that’s where your heart and my river, of mercy will always meet.You are loved simply because I say you are, I am alone the one who can defineso when you look in to that mirror dare to believe the face you reflect is bearing something of mine.I’ve elevated change hoping to find it in a moment and then used it as a bar To give merit to my performance or determine how farI’ve got to go before I’ll be able to say I’m worth lovingLiving in the fantasy of the man I’m becomingI could say more but these words are starting to dissipate the suppression I can taste the freedom ushered in by my confession.

Pete Davies is a contemplative thinker and poet, who is passionate about people coming to encounter the depths of God’s love in their places of brokenness. Pete lives in South West England with his wife Debs.