{glass house}

Glass house
Cracks began
Stones thrown
Years of wounding added up
It all came crashing down around me
Glass everywhere
Shards cutting me as I move outward
What has this shattering done?
What is this new world whose air I can now breathe?

The house can never be rebuilt
One million pieces unable to resurrect

Was it all really a mirage?
About God yet not about God?
About love yet not about love?
About saving yet not about saving?
About redeeming yet not about redeeming?

Was he really there all along outside the glass house around me, around us?

We constructed our own comfortable place to live apart from him, yet spoke as if our lives were all about knowing him

The charade.
The parade of lies, twisted truths, blindness, hollowness.

Can I come to you now God?
Can something real be built on the other side of the piles of broken glass?

I don’t want another glass house

Don’t want a house of sticks either

I want solidarity

I want the real thing

I want you

{Hope Wood ©2014}

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