I cannot risk any more broken ribs

by You Have My Word


I seldom write with unedited unease and fiery determination but today requires a more honest approach than the emotionally-capped scrawling I have delivered previously. I am too wilted – too walk-over-me – too often and today is not that day. You have walked long and hard and I am tired, and I am hurting and today I am saying exactly what I mean to you.

You, with your words knitted in spite – knotted with self-assurance. You, with your “open-minded” ear but closed-hardened heart… except to those you use the right words… the Holy words. You, with your “right way” and “straight narrow” and “Jesus says” and… well, I have to wonder if you actually know.

I have to wonder if you actually know your own “right way”. I have to wonder “Do you actually know your own straight narrow?” I have to wonder if you’re using Jesus’ words to mask your own judgement – if what Jesus says and what you say are in any way the same? I have to wonder if you and I are in any way the same.

I think we are more alike than you would like to admit. Fortunately – I don’t know whether for you or for me – grace is not exclusive. Nor is faith. Nor is truth. Nor is love. I have and live with them all. Do you? I have yet to comprehend how one man (or woman) can deem themself more worthy than another for the promise of life with these gifts. I didn’t know imperfection was that arrogant.

I don’t claim perfection, and I too am arrogant at times. I don’t highlight your stumbling any more than I recognise my own. I don’t condemn your wrestling for I am fighting my own battles and do not have much strength to spare. I beg of you, uproot your fists from the furrow of my neck. You will need both for your own war.

I have no respect for your clever remarks even though you’re using all the “right words. Your “truth-in-love-because-truth-sets-free” is neither gentle nor liberating. Your good intention is undermined by your offence at my opinion. You cannot save me, nor do I want you to. We will both fall – both fail. And I cannot risk any more broken ribs.