I’ve been the hands of God
I’ve been the voice of love
Brought the healing balm
To wounded soldiers and children

I’ve sung with the canonized
Marched with the glorified
And broken bread with third world angels

I’ve encountered the holy under freeways
Enjoyed the artistry of homeless prodigies
And pontificated on the nature of reality with belly laughs

I’ve told the story of hope more times than my brain can hold
Proclaimed freedom for addicts every Sunday
And laid bare a million healed wounds

I’ve been an instrument of mercy in a holy symphony
Sat bedside with the injured and dying
Stood before family and critics
And preached grace for all

I’ve apologized for the sins of my forefathers
Repented for the crimes of my skin’s color
And witnessed divine orchestration on an incomprehensible scale

I’ve heard from the prophets
Seen the power of apostles
And walked with disciples

I’ve read the books
I’ve prayed the prayers
And mastered divinity

And the whole time I’ve felt like an imposter midwife as
Congregations were birthed
Organizations were forged
And a kingdom advanced

But I’m still me
Victories haven’t changed my insides
I still haven’t figured out how to be good
How to be whole

I’m caught in between the mystery
Of timeless sainthood and daily darkness
Of imago dei and a garden’s eaten apple
Of ecstatic communion and devastating isolation

I’ve been told that a hero is not those of heroic wall art
But those who endure
Thankless and nameless

Enduring not the trials of the world
Nor the work of accomplishment
But the truth of who they are
Broken yet beautiful

There is the fertile crescent of a spiritual genesis
The courage to embrace naked truth
To be let in and to let love in
To let go and open hearts

My salvation is not found in religious conquest
But in the Presence ever near
In the loneliest leadership, furthest falls, and sleepless nights.

It’s there the voice echos against the walls of a bare soul
“An imposter midwife is who I’ve made you to be”