I wish I'd bled a little for you1:25 PM
I knew you were different. You were fragile inside; you'd surprise me with meltdowns and tears. I'd make fun of you when I didn't understand why you were the way you were and it kills me now to remember. I wish I'd bled a little for you. I wish I'd traded hearts with you for a moment, just tried to feel what you felt. Was I ever to you what a friend should be?
We grew out of the playmate stage, drifted into acquaintance-hood. And suddenly it was like old times; you were acting out and I rolled my eyes and failed to seek or understand. But this time it was drastic. It hurt to watch you hurt and hate yourself, so I shut up safe and tight; content to keep distant.
I wanted to fix you, to say the magic "truth" to wake you up, but it was easier to hide behind a lecture than to hear you, or God forbid, sympathize with you. So quick to judge, too blind to see.
bleed for you now?
Even if it's years late?
You cried 'where was God when I needed Him most'?
If God is anything like your pious old playmate, He was deaf and dumb to your wounds and agonies. He frowned when you sinned, drew back in disgust when you lashed out, declared maxims and platitudes against you; cast you off. He's too good for you, refuses to get His hands dirty, and unless you clean yourself up and come back fixed and sorry, He's got nothing more to do with you.
Oh but thank God He's not any of that.
He bled for you.
He felt your shame, He was there in the midst of your pain. He was storing your tears in His bottle, mingling them with His own. He bruised and battered Himself, He was cut, crucified. He stared down death so that you could breath life. Look to Jesus. See the scars He proudly wears for you. See what fierce love He has, what price He's ransomed for you! You have captivated Him, He will not relent in His passionate pursuit of you. He sings over you, boasts over you.
God help me to be that kind of a friend.
He's asking me to mingle my tears with yours. To face sleepless nights, to give grace, to love you. To get dirty, to taste the bile and grit of your pain.
I'm terrified but here's to opening my petty heart. I'm bleeding a little for you.
Because He did.
Note: This is not about one person in particular, but several that I've combined.