Daughter of the King

I have lived a portion of my life in the shadows of shame.

With deep wounds, I hid in the dark.

Knowing well, the empty, barren life.

Threatening to swallow me whole.

Scarred, unclean, unworthy of good things.

Patterns repeating, toxic voices, yelling loud.

Hitting a wall, I turned my eyes up.

Desperately wanting, hungry for more.

Reaching out, like the woman in the crowd.

Touching the fringe of His robe.

Soft eyes, He saw me, broken, exposed.

Healing, wholeness, He offered.

Eyes cast down, shame, a festering wound.

His healing touch, unable to receive.

Working the angles, as to earn His affection.

Buckling under the weight, an impossible demand.

My image of God, distorted, all wrong.

Fear making life small, making God small.

He comes to bring abundant life.

He, the giver of good gifts.

His one and only Son, His life he gave for me.

This high price, He paid in full.

Not by my own merit, by His grace alone.

His great love, ransomed me.

Weak though willing, I released my grip.

He, restoring my barren years.

Birthing beauty and strength from the emptiness, the pain.

Healed. Worthy. Complete.

Chosen. Adopted. Lavishly Loved.

Daughter of The King.

Just then a woman who had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding came up behind him. She touched the fringe of his robe, for she thought,

“If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.”

Jesus turned around, and when he saw her he said,

“Daughter, be encouraged! Your faith has made you well.”

And the woman was healed at that moment.

Matthew‬ ‭9‬:‭20-22‬ NLT

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