Who am I?
"What do I do?" I wondered as we drove home. The sun was setting far below the horizon, and streetlights flickered in the onset of darkness. I tried confessing whatever sin I knew to confess in silent prayer, but it didn't fix what was actually bothering me: I felt like such a huge mess. My emotions had been all over the place. I felt so much shame, fear, doubt... How had I gotten here? I wasn't sure... Besides, what good would it do to know? I couldn't fix it. I had spent many hours trying. It seemed that the more I tried, the messier it got. And it felt as though the very fabric of who I was had been torn apart. The Spirit within me nudged me to bring the mess to God. "God, here is my mess... I bring it to You. Can you fix it?" I prayed silently, looking out the window into the dark night. Suddenly, I saw in my mind's eye the nail-pierced hands of Jesus. "I already did," His answer broke through my doubts and fears. And then He looked