Part V · Reclamation
Psalm of the Betrayed
You said God sent me—
that I was the calm
after a life of storms.
You prayed beside me,
then used that same hand
to delete your messages.
You called me holy.
Then touched him in the dark.
You said love was sacred,
but drank communion
with a mouth full of wine
and betrayal.
You didn’t just cheat.
You made it spiritual.
Wrapped your sin in scripture.
Said God was “working on your heart.”
You weaponized grace
as a place to hide.
And I—
I stayed.
Not because I was blind,
but because I believed
forgiveness was faith.
That seventy times seven
meant staying
even while bleeding.
You said,
“God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”
But it was you
who kept handing me more.
You laid hands on me in worship,
then disappeared
into someone else’s sheets.
You said you loved me
like Christ loves the church—
but He never gaslit the church.
Never abandoned it.
Never mocked it for weeping.
God doesn’t cheat.
God doesn’t lie.
God doesn’t call cruelty
sanctification.
But you did.
And when I left,
you called me the sinner.
Said I gave up on what we built.
But all I built
was a cross
to hang myself on.
I am not
Playing Jesus.
In your resurrection story.
This is mine.