Dirty

Years ago, someone prayed

over me, in power -

"you were made for the trenches,"

she said.

Then, I knew it to be true.

I had been a commander

behind the frontlines

for too long.

Trench warfare,

is not glamorous.

It's putting on armor

just to face the day.

It's not being afraid,

even if nighttime

brings dreams of

snake bites, and the enemy's breath

is cold on your neck.

Those I serve are his, he thinks,

and he won't let them go

without a fight...

A former dancer

I have been helping

once said,

"I was in the gutter.

Sometimes you have to go

where the people are."

I'm learning.

After the meeting -

where light was taught,

where chains were broken,

where support was given -

someone spilled soda

all over the hard lobby floor.

Sticky and tracked everywhere,

I get out the mop bucket.

I get a text, "You were made for this!"

I get an encouraging word, "Just be yourself!"

Tonight, I'm not so sure...

I wish I was more sure.

But as I pull the mop over the spill,

making it clean again,

His voice whispers warm,

"Remember when you wanted

to get dirty?"

He's inviting me into

the trench,

burying me in the ground,

dirt under my fingernails,

preparing for new growth.

It's where the people are.

Precious and holy people.

He wants them to be His.

And only You, Jesus,

can make us all

clean.