Grace. Freely given. Grace. Not something we strive for or work for, something we accept. Grace. That frees us from sin, that frees us from self, that frees us from the need to prove ourselves.

I have come to see my life as a process of growing in grace. I accepted Christ as a young child and became free of my sins; but as an adult, the gnawing need to prove myself was ever-present. The danger was that when “success” came my way, my sense of self was buoyed. But when it did not, I felt the grips of despair. Over the last few years, I believe that the Lord has been working on me — trying to remove my need to lean on anything other than Him for my self-worth. I wrote the following poem as a testimony to that fact.

At the Sheep Gate by Lindsay Bonilla

Jesus, by my efforts, I tried to justify,
when all you asked is that I heed your call to come and die.

But how could I say “yes” to a death in midst of life?
I denied your yoke of rest, holding tight to mine of strife.

With fingers worn and calloused, I tried to earn my keep,
to gain a worldly title and forget that I’m a sheep.

But each success and vain pursuit only left a gaping hole;
no matter how I labored, I could not fill my soul.

Empty, bruised and beaten down, I hobble back to you,
wondering if your offer stands to give me life anew.

I lay outside the sheep gate, but I do not venture in,
exhausted by my vain attempts to overcome my sin.

But then I hear your footsteps; I feel your gentle arms.
“There you are, my little lamb. I’ll keep you safe from harm.

“You tried to find the pastures green, the waters deep and still,
but you found only toil and pain, a heart left unfulfilled.

“But stay with me and let me guide along the narrow way,
and you’ll find peace and grace abounds to face each passing day.”

And so I follow close beside, walking only where you’ve trod,
finding comfort and protection beneath your staff and rod.

Your call to die is one to live, though before I could not see —
the boundless depths, my joy complete, in this great mystery.