DOWN IN THIS PIT
A confession based upon Psalm 110
That’s what I think when I see someone sitting up front in the class,
always with their hand up in the air,
eager to be the first to answer.
Why does it eat at me so?
Why do I smirk when they give a wrong answer?
The popular girls.
The ones with perfect hair, expensive clothes,
no zits, white teeth.
Why do they get under my skin?
Why do I wish they would trip, splat, face down in the mud?
Would that I was a leader, and they were my followers.
I’d put them in their place.
I would never call on them, regardless of their eager raised hands
Most never know this is going on, inside of me.
On the outside, I’m all smiles and rule-keeping,
sitting at the back of the class, arms crossed, head down,
minding my own business.
I know, truly, that You are in control, and that all things will work out for good,
in due time.
God, forgive me, but how the hell do I get out of this pit
and let you be in charge?