Write a psalm

Tonight at youth group, each individual wrote their own psalm. It was a form of prayer, they told us. Even if you're not poetic, they said, write one anways.

I am poetic, contrary to what you may think. I write songs, which are poems to music, in essence. I love to recite eloquent words with passion. Whenever I have to say my verse for volleyball, I say it with meaning and purpose. I speak from the heart.

I understand that people rarely see my soft side; the side that mourns over convicts in prison, the part of me that yearns to reach to starving children in third world countries. If I told of my dreams, many would laugh. How could a girl with such nice clothes and styled hair want to be a missionary? Who would believe me?

No, that part of me is usually locked away, deep inside. Because what would people think if they truly saw my heart? The beautiful part of my heart. If they saw it, they would try to ruin it. Because watching those nasty movies is really fun, you see. You'll like the haunted corn maze with the zombies and demons lurking. You'll want to dance to the raunchy music. But I will not be persuaded. The person they are really trying to convince is themselves.

Sometimes I wonder if that part of me exists anymore. But I know, deep inside me, it's still there. It may be hiding in the dark, afraid to reveal itself, afraid to be vulnerable. It may be masked with insecurities, fearful to be sold-out for Jesus. Afraid to love. Because love opens the heart to pain.

I have loved, and I have lost. I have given myself and been abandoned. I have been a friend and been betrayed. I have offered a second chance and been taken for granted. I have shared what I own and been taken advantage of. I have loved, and have not been loved back. 

My pain is disguised as anger. I am always on the lookout for enemies, because anything with beauty has predators looking to destroy it. I am "strong," to show that I will not be a doormat. But in reality, my strength is my weakness. The beauty I posses is masked by my fear, my fear of love, my fear of loneliness, my fear of innocence.

 The world sees innocence and tries to defile it. The culture sees beauty and attempts to thwart it. People see love, and they choose to hate instead. I have been defiled, thwarted, and hated. And I in turn have defiled, thwarted, and hated.

Innocence is beautiful. It is lovely, but I am afraid of it. I am afraid because I will be a target. I will be seen as "inexperienced," and "sheltered." I will be old-fashioned and conservative. I will be a "homeschooled kid who doesn't know a thing about reality."

Is it worth it?

Yes. Because I do know about reality. I have experienced it. And I have seen enough of the world to decide I don't want it.

I want to be a poet. I want to express my true beliefs- with love. I want my heart to be open to pain, because then I will have the courage to feel.

I want to write a psalm.

Psalm 139

¹ You have searched me, Lord,
    and you know me.
² You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.
³ You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.
⁴ Before a word is on my tongue
    you, Lord, know it completely.
⁵ You hem me in behind and before,
    and you lay your hand upon me.
⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.

⁷ Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
⁹ If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
¹² even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you.

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
¹⁷ How precious to me are your thoughts,^[a] God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
¹⁸ Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand—
    when I awake, I am still with you.

¹⁹ If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
    Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
²⁰ They speak of you with evil intent;
    your adversaries misuse your name.
²¹ Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
    and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
²² I have nothing but hatred for them;
    I count them my enemies.
²³ Search me, God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.
²⁴ See if there is any offensive way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting.