My not so broken Armour

I am a dead weight warrior

Facing a battle I can’t fight in

Surrounded by filth, dependent on grace

So here I am, clasping my rusty sword

On my left hand my cracked silver shield

My sandal thongs are snapping

My helmet stinks of despair

Drenched with the perspirations of my hopelessness

Sticky with the filth of my thoughts

My belt hangs lose on my thinning waist

My breastplate is all tight

Pressed by the cares of this world

In short, my amour is a mess!

But who said it had to be perfect

Who said the battle is mine!

Maybe my broken amour is not broken at all

The broken, the broke and unsatisfied are his best friends

He brings beauty from ashes

Freedom from brokenness

Gladness for mourning

A friend of sinners

Where we see rusted he sees dusted

Where we see demolished, he sees polished

We see broken he sees mended

He is for us, he is not against us

So am gonna fasten my worn out sandals

Strap myself up with my sticky breastplate

Put on my dusty crown

The battle line has been drawn, the war cry sounded

With confidence am marching forth to victory

Let the war begin!

   Love God, love people,love yourself!

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