Ignorant Beggar

I just feel like such an ignorant beggar.

One who spoils their days wasting away every good + precious resource that’s been offered to them, free of charge. I treat grace like it’s a throwaway handout, insisting that I don’t need anyone’s help but my own.

Yet, time + time again, I am found on the corner of the same crossroads, claiming “anything helps.” But yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I have and will continue to blow all of my Father’s inheritance on empty things. My deceitful claims to steward gifts of generosity fall on populations of deaf ears.

But every morning, the same Man approaches me.
Nothing in hand.

Rather than finding a dollar bill outstretched, I find His arms.

The man tells me, “Come.”

My beggar’s cup, empty.
My belongings, few.

What sort of invitation might this be?

Should I never let you forget that I’M the one who spent my Father’s money. I’M the one who neglects tender kindness from strangers. I’M the one who without fail finds herself here every single day.

Who am I that You should invite to take me somewhere new? I got myself into this mess.

Yet, shrouded in a hood,
I thought I didn’t know this Man,
+ that He surely didn’t know me.

But after His arms reached out to me to offer an embrace, His eyes met mine.

Utter shock took hold of my body.

Could it truly Be?
My blood, my life source, the one that I wished off dead?

“My child.”
He said.

“Dad?!”