the harvest is bitter

Abba-Father,

You have allowed me to eat the fruit

of seeds I planted with my own hands.

The harvest is bitter.

The pain is bitter.

The tears are bitter.

I cannot point a finger at You,

for my own heart bears witness

that these wounds did not come from Your cruelty,

but from my own choices.

Day after day,

I sit among the ruins

and remember the roads I should not have taken,

the warnings I ignored,

the moments I knew better

yet walked forward anyway.

Now the consequences speak loudly.

They visit me when I wake.

They follow me through the day.

They sit beside me through the night.

And I cry.

I cry because the pain is heavy.

I cry because regret is heavy.

I cry because I cannot turn back yesterday

and choose differently.

Abba-Father,

I have no defense.

No argument.

No excuse.

Only tears.

Only sorrow.

Only a heart that whispers,

“I did this to myself.”

Yet while I weep,

I remember that You are still my Father.

The same hands that discipline

are the same hands that heal.

The same eyes that see my failure

also see my sorrow.

The same voice that allowed the consequence

still speaks mercy to the broken.

So I bring You my tears.

I bring You my regret.

I bring You the pain I created.

And though I deserve the lesson,

please do not leave me alone within it.

Teach me through this suffering.

Humble me through this suffering.

Draw me closer to Christ through this suffering.

Let these tears not be wasted.

Let this pain not be wasted.

Let these consequences not be wasted.

For if Your mercy meets me here,

even this valley of my own making

can become a place where I learn

to trust You more than I trusted myself.

Abba-Father,

I am crying.

I am hurting.

I am broken.

But I am still Your child.

And that hope

is the small light

that keeps shining

through my tears.