I am. That’s as far as I get. Because I know I am supposed to be something more but nothing ever quite fits.

I am holding on so tight, my knuckles turn white. One thing after another slips through my fingers like sand. And now I stand in a desert filled with all my failed “I am’s”

I am strong. I am bold. Until I fall apart and all courage runs cold. I am beautiful and seen. Until my sin leaves me broken and unclean. I am hardened and tough, but in this broken world it will never be enough.

I’ve been told that I matter, that I’ve been created intentionally, but how can that be when with my best effort I have nothing to offer my king.

My king, where is He? Does He not see my suffering? Does He not know I have been searching and working so that He might be pleased?

I am afraid and confused. What if who I am is never of use? I have no doubt, I am alone. Surely everyone else has found a place of their own. A place to exist without feeling like I’ve missed, Like everything I am is wasted. What am I not seeing?

But as I think I remember something - the king that I serve needs nothing from me. And here I am thinking only of me.

But who am I to question what He made? How arrogant to think I might be beyond His grace. That I am not enough so He must’ve gotten it wrong. As if the creator of the universe has forgotten me all along.

I spend my days trying to prove my worth, when my only value ever came from Him. I work to try and build my own throne and he graciously tears it down again and again.

I lose sleep to preserve the life he gave me, as if I have any control. I fight battles for my significance, when He’s won wars for my soul.

I keep turning inward, hanging my head over what I think I’ve lost. But if I would just look up for a moment, I’d see my sin nailed with Him to the cross.

A king like that. One who replaced my death with His life, I believe Him when He calls me His child. That’s what I’ve been missing! Him and nothing more. The identity I’ve been searching for was determined and died for long before I was born.

What does it mean to be me? What does it mean to be me?

I am empty, yet He fills me with Hope. I am unique, but I am not alone. I am powerful, but He’s the one on the throne.

I am distinct, but united with those He died for. I am at peace, knowing He is my only life source.

And now I am free, Free to loosen my grip. There is nothing left to prove, No more fights for me to win.

My king fought and won, and now I will sing and lift my hands. All Glory and Honor and Power Forever to Him The Great I AM.