The Box

I have a box that fits me, The perfect shape and height. And in this box I find me, smug And smart and always right. So I display this box here And proudly call it mine. I ask my friend to sit inside My box so fair and fine! But when she tries to fit there, Oh, no! She just won’t go! Her leg pops out, she pulls it in, Then out pops her elbow! Her head, it bends the corner; A new dent for her toe! I try so hard to make her fit, But no, she just won’t go! I search and find another Good friend to fit my mold. I catch my breath—he just might fit If he can hold that fold! But then I see a finger— It’s poking through a crack. I push it in, but then I spy A split across his back! Now I’m getting angrier! It’s shaped so perfectly. This box should fit just anyone, You see—it’s right for me! I get a little frantic With everyone I meet; I try to cram them in my box, Their heads down to their feet! I’m so mad, I throw a fit. I rage and stomp and cry! What’s wrong with all these people here? Why can’t they fit inside? Then, breaking through my rampage, A friend so kind and calm Says, “Settle down and take a breath; You’re viewing this all wrong. “See, God made your box to be The perfect fit for you; But hers and his and all of theirs Fit them precisely too. “God never asks His children To squeeze where they can’t fit; Each box is custom-crafted for The treasure kept in it. “He made them all—the boxes— And everyone within. Yes, He’s aware that every box Is beaten up by sin. “God knows that sin has broken The hearts and souls therein. So, friend, come near and look from here. Let’s start this all again.” I look around and see those I’d thrown a fit about, Each looking like a masterpiece From inside to without. God’s still, small voice calls each one To take the nail-marked hand; And those who come, He leads them to A higher place to stand. In that place I see a Box— It’s shaped so differently. It’s here that Christ defeated sin– Eternal victory! East to west, the sides stretch wide To reach the farthest soul; And from the earth it towers high To mend the gaping hole. It spans the gap of sin from The perfect, holy God To all who come to Him by faith In Jesus’s sinless blood. At this Box, all those who come Ashamed and starved of worth, Repentant, then transformed by grace, Receive new life—rebirth! Each boxy frame is still the same God-designed creation; But inside-out they shine the light Of joy in true salvation. Then, dismayed, I see myself, All proud and knowing best; Here in the shadow of this Box I’m just like all the rest. When I see my sinful heart, My only hope is grace. I turn and run repentantly Up to that holy place. God, my gracious Maker, draws This selfish, prideful me Up to His Box; by faith I stand, Forgiven, new, and free! I’m the same as when I came, As far as outwardly; But inside I’m reborn to grow In Christ, who died for me. I’m not like any other, and No one is just like me. The shape of each is beautiful— Those freed, and those who seek. I won’t expect another To fit my box today; We all need Jesus just the same– His Box–The only Way! I have a box that fits me, The perfect shape and height; From here, I love each treasured soul, And God, with all my might!