Forget the Jewels!

 Disclaimer:
The following discussion
Concerns a theological stake
I do not understand.
Whether, because of 
Absence or miscommunication,
I am only writing
On behalf of the confusion
Wrought by contrasting
True heavenly expectation
Vs.
Church idealism of discipleship.
Please read with caution
And mercy.

God, I plead with my ignorance.
I've heard that my first moments
Before Your throne
Will be ones laying down
A crown, decorated of jewels,
Rewarding my efforts
In being Your witness
In this world.

Is it so?

What people do not know
Since the moment 
I became Yours,
I soon became compelled
To learn theology,
To go somewhere,
Accomplish something
In the name of Jesus.

It was not enough

To just be.
I rather had better
Grow, substantiate
The righteousness I now have,
Follow the calling
Bestowed on my life.
And if I failed,
Then the jewels offered 
Would wither in the fire,
For an opportunity not taken.

Keeper of time:
You know how long
I have busied myself to prove
My worth in pleasing Your heart
In ministry,
In the workplace and world,
In the home.
Have I done well?
For the amount of good done
Fails to satisfy a quota.
I don't know whose.

Frankly, I have so many 
Voices in my head
Directing me what is
Supposed to be
Your will.
But is it?
Legalism breathes in my bones;
Every second of pressure
Externally suggested seeds
An anger that bleeds
Black and blue 
Ink.
Even at my best,

I am not enough.

All I have heard
Is how my effort will result in jewels
Forged in life, sustained eternally,
If only I would take the steps 
To honor Your Name
In everything
I do.

God, 
I feel like I'm being discipled
To insure I have stories
Accounted unto me
Glorifying the One who came to save.
But no matter where I go or do,
It is never enough!
I am still lonely;
And I am forgotten.

Whose glory am I fighting for?
I have been purposed
Toward a goal,
But should I be aiming
To sit at Your throne;
When able, invite others to join?

Is that when a jewel is created?

King of heaven,
I mean no disrespect.
But where in Your words,
Are my works supposed to define
My identity as Your child?
I can preach grace,
But no amount of time or sermons
Have cured this brokenness
Within me:
Wanting to be loved unconditionally;
A sense of belonging without a fight
To sit at the table.

I have forgotten
The impact of faith.
My mind knows what it should
Believe, but my heart fails
To grasp its reality.
For in one breath, I hear,
"Faith is all you need,"
But in the next, "Now,
Do the work God has commanded!"

Hell is not my home.
I know that.
Sin must not remain in my life.
I also know that.
But am I worthy of heaven
If all I brought was my desire
For You to be my King?

I know a crown is to be laid
At Your feet;
A wedding feast is to be prepared.
But will the Lord be offended,
If I only came in my rags?
Because all I have is myself.
Any stitchwork I attempted
Only resulted in bunched threads;
Uneven patterns clashing with color.
Any work I have accomplished,
Any praise gained...I have
"My award."  It is empty.

Nevertheless, if You made
A gown worthy of Your beauty,
I would gladly wear it.
Anything I could present
Will only crumble in ashes.
I know it, already.
But if You are pleased with me
As Your child, enjoy the matter
That I am credited to Your Name,
Then what work
You have done in me
Will forever be displayed.