Being a Christain

This poem I read it years ago, beautiful:

Do you know

do you understand

that you represent
Jesus to me?

Do you know
do you understand
that when you treat me with gentleness
it raises the question in my mind
that maybe He is gentle, too.
Maybe He isn’t someone
who laughs when I am hurt.
Do you know
do you understand
that when you listen to my question
and you don’t laugh,
I think, “What if Jesus is interested in me, too?”
Do you know
do you understand
that when I hear you talk about arguments
and conflict and scars from your past,
I think, “Maybe I am just a regular person
instead of a bad, no-good little girl
who deserves abuse.”

If you care,
I think maybe He cares —-
and then there’s this flame of hope
that burns inside of me and for a while

I am afraid to breathe

because it might go out.

Do you know
do you understand
that your words are His words?
Your face, His face
to someone like me?

Please, be who you say you are.
Please, God, don’t let this be another trick.
Please let this be real.
Do you know
do you understand
that you represent
Jesus to me?

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