The 800-pound resentment in the room

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My Scar

I have an inch-long scar on my right forearm. I was 15 stocking shelves in the grocery store where I worked. Continue reading

Reading Any Self-Help Books? What For?

Self help is an oxymoron.

A popular quote from folks who don’t know any better says, “God helps those who help themselves.”

No He doesn’t. Continue reading

I’m Living Inside

An original poem by Steven Sawyer

I’m dying inside.
I’m dying inside.
And nothing I do
can help turn the tide.

I want to be happy
to sing and to dance
to have some good friends
if I had half a chance.

But the life I live now
is just make-believe.
I pretend to be happy
but my hurts just won’t leave.

So I laugh and I play
and I act like I’m fine
but I’m dying inside
and my life is not mine.

I’m dying inside.
I’m dying inside.
The shame that I feel
I know I must hide.

Confused and unworthy
I awake in dismay.
No hope or a future,
and no sunny day.

Nowhere to turn;
no one to turn to,
abandoned and lonely
is the best I can do.

I wish I had someone
who knew how I feel.
Who’d love me for me.
Who I knew was real.

I’m living inside.
I’m living inside.
For I met my Savior
and He’s on my side.

I learned to be happy
to sing and to dance.
I have Christian friends now
who gave me a chance.

To be real and transparent.
To pour out my heart.
To tell them I’m hurting.
To make a fresh start.

I laugh and I play now
and not just pretend.
I give all my hurts
to my Savior to mend.

I’m living inside.
I’m living inside.
The joy that I feel now
can not be denied.

I’m loved and accepted
for just who I am.
My Savior has washed me
in the blood of The Lamb.

I know that I’m worthy
but sometimes I’ll fall.
I’ll doubt and I’ll worry
and hurt from it all.

But I’ve always got Jesus
In Whom I abide.
And He is the reason
I’m living inside.