An Honest Prayer

Why is it
When I look at the bruises on my arms
I pray that they'll stay -
rather than "make them go away!" -
so that I can convey
to the world
that I am in pain?

Why is it
when the doctor says I'm fine
that my blood is pure
and that I can be sure
that I am well -
I say
I'd rather be sick?

Because if it was true
that something was wrong
than at least I could say
that my pain is real -
that my shaking is not just some
make- shift attempt to call
out for attention - to say
"Look at me!"
But indeed, I could say
I'm legit.

Why is it
that I cry out to Jesus
saying "Make it quit!"
But when he asks me the question
"Would you like to get well?"
A part of my soul just holds back?
I can't, I can't
say yes.

Why is it
that when I've been given the source
of freedom
from all fear and anxious living - the key
to see with eyes opened-
the strength to move mountains -
the secret to joy forever...
I can't, I can't
take it?

Instead, I'd rather
stay in what I know.
Can't I just be paralyzed forever?
'38 years I've sat by this pool'
and I'd be a fool
to change now.
Walk? Are you crazy?
Naw, Jesus, I'm cool.

But I want - I want
to choose life.
I hear of this freedom -
a new way of living -
with my eyes off myself
and my feet running forward.
I DO want it.
I want, I want
to choose joy.

But Jesus I know -
I can't do it on my own.
The real miracle would be
not some quick healing
but that I'd find the ability
to say from the depths of my soul
and honestly pray
that I want
to be made well.

Faith over fear.
Joy over sadness.
Hope over hopelessness.
Peace over anxiousness.
Life over death.
I want, I want
this.

And Jesus- that part of my
soul that say no - that is
what proves I am sick.
And it is that
that I need you to cure.
So Jesus - as much as I can tell
my soul cries out -
make me well!

Amen.