Outsider

I step into the room where God is supposed to be,

and they say He’s here—everywhere, really—

but I can’t feel Him the way they do.

Hands raised high, voices melting into the ceiling,

while I sit in the back,

fidgeting with my keys, my thoughts, my feelings.

_______

They say He whispers in the stillness,

but stillness makes my skin itch.

They say He loves order,

but my mind is a kaleidoscope,

breaking patterns as soon as they form.

_____

I wonder if God looks down at me and shakes His head,

wishing I’d just focus,

just listen,

just be someone else.

_____

And I’ve tried.

Oh, God, I’ve tried to cram myself into the mold—

fold my edges, shrink my thoughts,

tie my restless hands behind my back.

I’ve memorized their prayers,

their songs,

their answers to questions I’m not supposed to ask.

______

But still, I feel like the one You left behind.

Like You handed out grace in neat little boxes,

and mine got lost in the mail.

_______

Why, God?

Why would You make me this way—

a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit?

Why would You give me a mind that moves too fast,

a heart that breaks too easily,

a body that can’t keep up with the rhythm of the room?

________

They tell me to trust,

but trust feels like a door locked from the inside.

They tell me to surrender,

but how do I surrender what I don’t even understand?

_______

I wonder if heaven has corners for the restless,

if Your kingdom makes space for minds like mine.

Do You see me, God,

or am I just a glitch in the system?

_______

But then, I think—

maybe You meet me in the chaos.

Maybe You’re not waiting for my stillness,

but walking with me through the storm.

Maybe You’re in the questions,

the doubts,

the late-night cries of Why did You make me this way?

______

Maybe You made me this way

because Your kingdom isn’t built for sameness.

Maybe the pieces that don’t fit

are the ones that hold it together.

______

So here I am, God,

not still, not silent, not anything close to perfect—

but here.

Let my restless mind be my prayer.

Let my wandering heart find You in its own way.

Let my brokenness be enough.

______

Because maybe You’re not asking me to fit in.

Maybe You’re asking me to be.