Spoken Word Poetry: A New Perspective

Hi everyone!

As a follow-up to the previous posts (here and here),  I am publishing another one that came from the lack of writing recently. Perhaps that was a good thing, as a new beginning came in the form of my church’s Women’s Retreat this past month and I could not be more thankful that, perhaps, the hiatus provided fertile ground, if you will, for healing and writing. That said, I’m back on track and ready to write again.

For those who have stuck by me, I am grateful. Thank you and I appreciate your encouragement and patience along the way. Knowing that someone is reading this and may very well take this poem as an inspiration for their own writing, a way to deepen this or her relationship with God, etc., does much to encourage me also. The glory of God and y’all are the reasons I keep writing, even with the long breaks in mind. Thank you for continuing to encourage me in my journey and know that I am praying over and supportive of yours as well.

One more thing: you may notice that I refer to childhood abuse. My dad was physically and emotionally abusive for the majority of my childhood, including adolescence. As such, I spent most of my late adolescence and twenties believing the following:

  • I had to earn God’s love.
  •  I was a deficient and second-rate believer at best and a heretic at worst.
  • I deserved the physical and emotional abuse my dad inflicted thanks to the above.
  • That I was abused meant that I wasn’t good enough for God since He saw fit to ordain that for me.
  • That I wasn’t as wanted and cherished as He promised me I am as His child, so the abuse was simply my lot for whatever I did to make myself a second-rate, barely qualified child of God.


Thankfully, none of that was true and it will never be. Unfortunately, that is very common thinking among those who have suffered child abuse, as I did. (*See below for more on the subject.)


For those who find this sensitive topic triggering, you are always welcome to reach out and I will be glad to help you in your journey towards healing. I have always considered part of the purpose of the writing I have done to love God and others as myself and I won’t stop doing my very best, by God’s truth and grace alone, to do that. As such, here is the poem in question, without further ado.


A New Perspective/Broken for Healing’s Sake


Fighting against the turmoil of an abusive upbringing

By the parent who was most responsible for Godly child-rearing

Didn’t exactly place me in a situation ripe for believing God’s claims.

Thankfully, though, Mom wouldn’t sit back quietly and hear Dad’s “no”

Choosing instead to forge a new path ahead and point her children to the Messiah-

The Father my sister and I needed all along and, blessed be His Name, knew very young

Thanks to the example of His love God gave us through our righteous, devoted Mom.


Now, almost thirty years from the time I became a Christian,

I look back and see fully now the dangers of my warped perspective.

That is, growing up, while I loved the Lord and knew Him,

I thought His love must be conditional and only when I was good enough for Him.

After all, I reasoned, He wasn’t protecting me from Dad’s abuse, I thought,

So He either wasn’t Who He claimed He was or there really was no God.


That, in itself, I realize now, was understandable, and thank God I was wrong!

Though my teenage, trauma-wounded vision was clouded, there He was

Opening my eyes in my darkest moments to see the fullness of His love

And to realize the problem was not me, Whom he loves ,

But the abuse my sister and I endured and the poison in my thoughts.


I really believed I wasn’t worth His time, or if so, barely His child.

If I really was, then, I wondered, why did I have to wait a while?

Why wait a while, that is, for Him “help my unbelief” and heal me?

If He really did care for me, then why would He hurt me when I was already weak?

Why did I have to go through the trials of trauma, rejection, and brokenness?


(Yes, I really did think I needed to earn His love-

And that He thought me weak and stubborn,

So the abuse my dad inflicted was just.

Either that, or maybe, just maybe, sadly,

He didn’t care, or there was no God in Whom to believe!)


What if the breaking, though, was the beginning of a new life- or, a new perspective?

What if He was calling me to walk with Him all along and could take my questions?

What if, perhaps, I had to stop asking questions for a moment to listen

And hear the voice of my Father, Lord, and Savior telling me I am cherished?


Only now have I come to realize that I always had the advocacy of the Holy Spirit

And the blood of the Son to establish my place with Him- plus His intercession-

For the Father to hear and grant my requests according to His best

That I might see, even when life hurts me, when I make mistakes, or truly sin,

That I was, am, and will always be His child- wanted, cherished, and truly beloved.


Well, then, it is a blessing indeed that I was broken for healing’s sake

When the time finally came to lay down my pride and walk anew in faith

That a new perspective, “a future and a hope” would govern my life- a needed change!

Thank You, God, and do what You want with me, in Your Most Holy Name. Amen.


* The Scripture verses quoted are Mark 9:24 and Jeremiah 29:11, respectively.

** For more information on common, toxic thought patterns in the minds of victims of child abuse:

Spoken Word Poetry: The Outcast Made A Daughter

Finally, I have the inspiration from God needed to transcribe what’s been on my mind for so long! I will also admit this one was hard to finish because, honestly, anyone who knows my story knows that I struggled to view God as the truly holy, just, loving, and merciful Father He is for most of my childhood. For most of my life, I loved the Lord but viewed Him as a Father Who was exacting and loved me conditionally rather than Who Scripture says He really is.  If you need an introduction to what precipitated all of this, go back to the previous entry, linked here.  

Hopefully that helps explain everything and, without further ado, here’s the poem of which I wrote!



The Outcast Made a Daughter 

Like more than a few of us, growing up, I didn’t really have a father

Or least one of whom I’d be proud to say, “Yup, I’m his daughter!”

Somehow God, all-knowing and wise, knew better-

Far better- than to give me what my child’s heart always longed for,

Showing me instead that life would only make sense if I called my Lord my “Abba.”


Growing up wondering “What did I do wrong?” wasn’t easy,

But I didn’t know then that the pain would lead to something

Bigger than my wonderings, fears, and mistaken beliefs.

What I didn’t know then was I’d find all that I’d need

In the God I know Who loves me unconditionally.


The outcast phase was meant to be, I see, so I might believe

And know for sure that in the Lord our God, I am free-

That He isn’t holding me at arm’s length, like a spider on a gossamer string

Ready to send me to Hell with just the flick of His wrist

Though He could if He chose, for that is His justice.


Thank God, instead, that You had something different in mind-

What a blessing it is- a priceless gift- that You call me Yours and I can call You mine!

What a wonder it is that You are my Father- that, near orphaned, I am no more

That, by Your grace, I saw an example of faith in the heart of my mother

And now am restored to You- the outcast made a daughter!



Spoken Word Poetry: The Outcast Made A Daughter (Introduction)

Hi everyone!

I’m astonished by the response to my most recent work (Spoken Word Poetry: Fearless Faith (Taking A Page From Freddie Mercury): Part 2: The Poem Itself) and that got me thinking I should finish yet another one inspired by a recent sermon (linked here ).

At least, maybe it’s just me, but imagine this: with your daughter on her deathbed, you come to God Himself for help, He agrees to heal her, and, in the midst of the journey home to see her healed, with crowds swarming y’all like flies on butter, y’all encounter someone taking what was yours- or so you thought- until you realize that maybe there is something more to the story than someone unexpected stealing your glory.
Maybe, just maybe, you needed the humbling and to become interruptible for the glory of God, the good of others, and your own benefit with eternally glorious ramifications.

Picture, if you will, the following: You’re awaiting your daughter’s healing and, suddenly, Jesus stops to acknowledge the unexpected:

45 “Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

Everyone denied it, and Peter said, “Master, this whole crowd is pressing up against you.”

46 But Jesus said, “Someone deliberately touched me, for I felt healing power go out from me.” 47 When the woman realized that she could not stay hidden, she began to tremble and fell to her knees in front of him. The whole crowd heard her explain why she had touched him and that she had been immediately healed. 48 “Daughter,” he said to her, “your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”” (Luke 8:45-48, NLT)

Can you imagine how you would have felt in that moment: perhaps shocked and angry that someone stole what you believed to be yours? Maybe you’d be wondering how someone unclean in the eyes of the Law could possibly defy the consequences imposed on her, thus harming her neighbors and thereby dishonoring God? Maybe you’d be thinking: How could Jesus do this to me? Doesn’t He care?? I’d bet Jairus thought all of that and more. I know I would have and more!

Then again, I can sympathize with Jairus because I have felt the pain of being stuck, of wondering what’s next, asking God, “What gives?,” feeling lonely and fearful, losing hope that life will get better than it is now hope, et cetera. After much thought on the subject since drafting this post ages ago, the poem itself is coming back and I should have it finished by Tuesday or Wednesday evening at the latest!

Coming Back to the (Pleasant) Work of Writing……

Hi y’all!

I hope you are doing well and realize some of y’all might be surprised to see I’m back after an incredibly long hiatus. Suffice to say that life has been something of a roller coaster ride, for lack of a better metaphor, presently. Most significantly, losing my maternal grandmother on Christmas Eve, to whom I was very close, becoming more active in church and at my current job, and related events, perhaps, drove me away from writing in general for a while, however unconciously. Thankfully, I think the dry spell is over and I am now able to ponder the blessings that would come from the grief and other life events I mentioned. As such, I feel like I am finally in a good place to write again.

Another theory came to mind as I was writing this as well. To be even more frank, I think that perhaps the dry period I had this time was a call to step back and think about my life as it is now, especially since I turned twenty-nine years old in January. I figure I am not getting any younger, so, while I am looking forward to my thirties, I am somewhat apprehensive about living those years and pray I live them well. I mean that, as always, I pray God and His glory will come first, or, to quote Charles Spurgeon, perhaps the greatest Christian preacher and reformer of his day, “I wonder how many Christian people could have their biographies condensed into this line: ‘He lived to make Christ known?'” In any case, I’m back again and for good this time, barring unexpected happenings, etc.

Spoken Word Poetry: Even When…May I Trust You

Hi everyone!

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, I know, and I’m sorry for the self-imposed hiatus and failing to answer any questions that might come with that. I’ve been unusually busy with work given the start of the school year in Maryland, to start, (I may not have mentioned I work for a school!) Additionally, external and internal conflicts within and without the context of work have been unusually distressing and confusing for me of late, so I focused on the conflict instead of my blessings, I realize. Finally, as working in a school or other educational/people-centered business often brings, yes, I’ve been sick a couple of times this year (mostly minor colds, though I don’t sicken often, so when I do, I get quite sick!). In fact, the last one necessitated my taking a sick day to heal properly!

That said, I apologize, ask pardon, and promise to write more often: two to three times a week minimum!

That in mind, the realization actually inspired the poem below, so it may be a short one. Hopefully, it will be enough to communicate my intentions and thought patterns. Above all, as always, may the glory go to God and the work point y’all to Him. God Bless, Michelle


Even When….May I Trust You

I’ve known the feeling of falling apart too often now

Not to wonder if my destiny is living with a heart

Broken, bruised, torn in some places, and in others scarred.

I wonder sometimes if life will get better or

Was I created to have to try harder-

That is, to have to try harder than others

To earn the love of God?


I know that’s not true, but I feel like it is sometimes-

That since I am lowly and God is high above me

I deserve not His grace and nor should receive His mercy.

That translates into “could,” as in, “I could never really,” I think….

Because I figure I’m not deserving, so no better than anybody

But they must be doing something or are something better, I think.


I wish answers, oftentimes, would appear from thin air

Concerning what my future holds, though I know life is not fair.

I remember that I’m not here for nothing and I have a purpose,

So that is a comfort, but sometimes leaves me questioning.

“Why, though, do I have to endure the wilderness first?”

“Why do others seem blessed continuously, whereas I remain athirst

For the blessings You promised, Lord, though I submit my life to Yours?”

I know, however, there is Someone Higher guiding me,

For His thoughts are not mine and His ways are best, I see.

After all, He created the universe, so as Creator and King,

Would He not, I recall, know His creation intimately?

Lord, I have only to come to the conclusion, then,

That You are Who You say You are, so better than

Anything I could ever be independently.

After all, You made and chose me by Your love and grace,

So given such mercy, I’ve nothing about which to complain.

Indeed, the God Who would sacrifice His life for me and arise

As promised would, logically, know well more than I.


So I surrender, Lord, to Your grace, mercy, and truth,

Praying only that, even in these, my darkest times, may I trust You.




A Poem of Belief by a Jewish Prisoner in a Nazi Concentration Camp

WOW. For anyone going through a difficult time, lack of writing inspiration, apathy, what have you….here you are. I am praying for you as well and welcome any and all messages related to prayer requests, etc.


I thought I’d share this poem that I found on the internet. It was written during WW2, on the wall of a cellar, by a Jew in the Cologne concentration camp.

“I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining
And I believe in love,
even when there’s no one there.
And I believe in God,
even when he is silent.

I believe through any trial,
there is always a way
But sometimes in this suffering
and hopeless despair
My heart cries for shelter,
to know someone’s there
But a voice rises within me, saying hold on
my child, I’ll give you strength,
I’ll give you hope. Just stay a little while.

I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining
And I believe in love
even when there’s no one there
But I believe in God
even when he is silent
I believe through any…

View original post 28 more words

Spoken Word Poetry: Fearless Faith (Taking A Page From Freddie Mercury): Part 2: The Poem Itself

Hi everyone!

To be honest, I’m surprised anyone got through any part of the previous entry at all without thinking, “This is too long; I can’t read this whole thing!” So, the short version is, essentially, is easy to sum up. Life has become too busy for me to sit down and write with full focus much of this summer and I have been going through other, confusing and painful struggles that are somewhat more personal and alluded to in the earlier post as well: Spoken Word Poetry: Fearless Faith (Taking A Page from Freddie Mercury) (Part 1: Introduction). That said, the life and legacy of the late Mr. Mercury and last week’s sermon at church on having life to the full, specifically as pertains to decision-making, got me thinking Life: Hacks: Hacking Decision-Making.

Now I understand what clicked and I’m putting the pieces together in this poem, in a way. I can’t live, much less do anything, on my own, anyway. After all, God made me for much more than to live a boring, mundane, and meaningless existence. Instead, He created me for much more and, well, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t want that! That’s what this poem is about and, without further ado, I present the work below!

Fearless Faith (Taking A Page From Freddie Mercury)

To take a page from the playbook of someone who lacked belief

I admit, is uncommon for me, since he didn’t know peace.

(Or maybe he did, sometimes, it seemed? If I’m wrong, correct me.)

I hope I’m wrong and perhaps he died knowing the Lord of Lords, Jesus, My King,

Although Freddie Mercury lived, perhaps, not always sure what he believed.


Maybe I’m wrong, and, if I am, please correct me.

I don’t think it’s much of a stretch, though, to say he lived freely,

With confidence that what would come of him was always meant to be.

With one exception, that is, but even then he chose to break free

Of the early defeat he could have faced battling his disease.


Maybe I’m alone, but I’ve seen many in crisis call out to God

That the wills they once had to fight became completely lost.

 Wouldn’t fighting be better, since one could beat the odds?

Mr. Mercury did, and dying, proclaimed, “the show must go on.”


Wow! Thank You, God, for the reminder

 That, since my life is not done, you’ve a purpose.

Indeed, I remember now this struggle is just

Part of a bigger picture I have yet to see

And that my life may really just be beginning at almost thirty!


Lord, maybe this is bold of me, but bold I will dare to be

If a request to be bolder about living life brings you glory.

That is, I want to be like Abraham and Sarah, Mother Theresa,

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and many, many such others,

Looking at them as I do Mr. Mercury, seeing fearless faith.


Seeing their confidence and wishing for the same,

Lord, may my fears instead become faith and following Your Way.

Yes, Lord, lead me to choose the narrow gate every day

That I might open it and find Your best for me.


May I remember, though, that living this life won’t be easy,

But nothing, nothing, truly compares to Your calling –

A life lived in integrity based on You and your gift of fearless faith.