This Much

Amidst the chaos, I asked the Lord,
“Master, how much do You love me?”
He replied:
“This much,”
And then stretched out His hands
and died for me.

In that same chaos,
He rose and then asked me:
“And how much do you love Me?”

I replied,
“This much” and told Him my answer.
But my words did not come easily.
They surfaced from a flood of past memories that often drown me,
alongside grief, disguised as a boulder, chained to my leg;
despair, its twin, wrapped tightly around me in my weakest moments.

And though muffled by the deep waters,
I could still hear the Adversary’s icy voice,
tempting me to surrender,
to say the worst:
“I give up.”

Yet despite it all,
I fixed my gaze toward the cross and whispered my answer,
“I choose You.”

I choose You.

My “this much” is but a speck compared to Yours,
but it is all I can give.
And in the depths of my broken spirit,
my choice is my answer; raw, trembling, defiant,
it is my humble way of saying:
“I love You too.”