We're a box of colored crayons...
A liitle bent... a little broken
From life's uses and abuses...
From cruel words some may have spoken.
Some of us have never known
The contentment of a childhood
Without being preyed upon...
Or treated as all children should.
Droves of us were disappointed
Because we've never known success...
Every would be dream has ended...
Every hope left no address.
Love may have appeared to always
Be everything we've ever wanted...
But betrayal left us bitter...
With broken hearts and eyes still haunted.
Then, we once believed religion
Would surely help to make us whole...
Give us back that zest for living...
Be a refuge for our soul.
But religion didn't fix us
We came up as broken as before.
Our blues all ran together
From the tears we shed once more.
But, wait.. should we welcome Jesus?
He says He wants us to perform...
To color Him a picture...
But can't He see we've been done harm?
Can't He see that we're all broken?
That we would only bring Him shame?
"No, children, though you're broken,
You still color just the same.
So please color me that picture...
And color me The Cross in red.
It's the color of forgiveness...
Colored with the Blood I shed.
You see, I, too, was once as broken
Yes, I was , also, once as blue...
But I still color many lives
And, dear children, so can you."
June 13, 2018
Dedicated to my sister, Shirley~~
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will
not despise. For You do not delight in sacrifice,
otherwise I would give it; You are not
pleased with burnt offering.
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted
And saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Among all my enemies I am a disgrace
and among my neighbors all the more. I am dreaded
by my friends—they flee when they see me on the street. I am forgottenlike a dead man,out of mind.I am like a brokenvessel. For I hear the slander
of many; there is terror on every side. They conspire
against me and plot to take my life.…