weight of the cross.

I didn’t feel fearfully and wonderfully made

as I looked down at the number I weighed.

What started as a number on a scale

became a voice I couldn’t derail.

“Not good enough” echoed in my head 

drowning out the truth God said.

Rather than treating my body like a temple,

I started destroying it little by little.

Yet no matter how small the number became

the voice in my head still sounded the same.

Then, I heard His gentle whisper once again,

over the rumbling of my stomach within.

Daughter, my body was broken

so you don’t have to break yours.

For your worth is not measured in weight loss,

but by the weight of the cross.

You are not a number to me,

but a child dearly loved for eternity.

-AKT