Holy or Hopeless

I grew up humming choir songs,

Trying not to stare at the cute tenor boy.

They said “God sees everything,”

Which made puberty one long panic attack.

Is a crush the start of my downfall,

Or just a heartbeat I’m supposed to ignore?

I asked the pastor once…

But he talked for ten minutes and I left with more questions than I walked in with.

Am I holy, am I hopeless?

Is this halo real or is it just bad lighting?

If I lean into love, does Heaven lean back—

Or mark me absent for the rest of my life?

I’m just trying to figure out

If God’s confused by me too.

I tried praying the feelings quiet,

But they hummed louder than the organ pipes.

Is desire a doorway to darkness,

Or something God forgot to label clearly?

I flip through verses like a Google search,

Hoping one of them will blink first.

Every time I think I’ve got an answer,

It dissolves like communion bread on my tongue.

Am I holy, am I hopeless?

Is this halo real or is it just bad lighting?

If I lean into love, does Heaven lean back—

Or mark me absent for the rest of my life?

I’m just trying to figure out

If God’s confused by me too.

Some days I feel like a fallen angel,

Other days I feel like God’s favorite joke.

Does He roll His eyes when I flirt?

Does He sigh when I swipe right?

I keep wondering if He’s keeping score,

Or if I’m lost in a chapter nobody footnotes.

I reach for answers—

But all I ever end up holding is another question.

Am I holy, am I hopeless?

Is this halo real or is it just bad lighting?

If I lean into love, does Heaven lean back—

Or mark me absent for the rest of my life?

I’m just trying to figure out

If God’s confused by me too.