This is who I am.
At least, it must be,
Because it’s all I’ve ever known.
This pain is permanent,
This struggle has no end,
And the future holds a mirror to the past.
This is my cross to bear;
It is heavy and uncomfortable,
But I will carry it for my Lord,
And accept no help,
So that I may be made strong.
Look! Here comes my Lord now!
See him walking down the path!
I try to straighten up,
But I am bent double by the weight;
Such that I cannot see His face.
“My Lord, Jesus!” I shout in triumph.
“I have carried this burden for you,
Turning aside all help,
And bearing it by my strength alone!”
My Lord stops before me, kneeling down,
And my delight vanishes in an instant;
His face is full of sadness and pity.
“Do you know what you carry?” He asks.
“Lord, this is my cross which you asked me to carry,” I answer.¹
“What is it?” He asks again.
Terror comes upon me as I struggle for an answer;
This burden has been upon me for so long,
I have forgotten what it is.
With faltering voice and tearful eyes I say again,
“My cross.”
“It is not your cross,” He says.
His words destroy me and I burst into tears,
“My Lord, I have carried it so long!
I have wasted so much of my strength!”
Despair grips me and I collapse,
Unable to bear the weight any longer;
My burden falls at His feet.
“Now, see for yourself,” He says.
I look upon the dark mass of filth,
That had once been my pride,
And emotion again overtakes me,
But my Lord consoles me.
“You are now free,” He says.
“Free to carry the cross I have prepared for you.
A burden of joy and purpose.
And no longer will you carry it by your own strength,
But by mine.”

¹Luke 9:23