I am a Gingerbread House: A Poem

I am a gingerbread house,
My frame made
From the finest ingredients
Imported from a secret place.[i]
I proudly stand up on my own,
Four sides and a roof,
But on the outside I am drab,
Too plain to gain attention.
So I paint my face with sweet paste,
Design windows and a door,
But they are fake and do not open;
You can’t get in or see into my core.
I add colorful confections,
Which sparkle, shimmer, and shine
And cause a glimmer of interest from passersby,
A glance here, a glance there.
But they don’t linger,
So I work harder.
I pile on pretty treats
Till my top is covered—
And heavy.
Some notice,
Some like, some tweet,
But my sides grow weak
I wobble under pressure
My seams crack
I can’t hold it together
I fall apart
My walls sprawl open,
Revealing all my emptiness
I am a broken mess,
Racked with sobs,
Hold me, hold me, hold me
He hears me
The One Who holds all things together[ii]
Hastens to my rescue
And upholds me with His everlasting arms[iii]
Enfolds me with His love,
Fixes all my broken pieces,
And fills me with unsurpassing peace[iv]
He sets a flickering flame in place
And turns this gingerbread house
Into a dwelling house for Him.[v]

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[i]  Psalm 139:15

[ii] Colossians 1:17

[iii] Deuteronomy 33:27

[iv] Philippians 4:7

[v] 1 Corinthians 3:16