In the beginning I heard your voice of acceptance and I believed in your grace. On the mountain you poured your love on me and showed me your ways. There were plethora points for your hand to heal. In those first few years you built my faith.
As I went down the mountain I lost sight of your hand. I kept looking and looking and asking why the darts kept flying my way. Why were the images of my past driving my days? Why in spite of my closeness to you I continued to be pulled away. Around each twist and turn I saw the enemy and with each fight I grew weaker and weaker. Where does my faith finally win out over the lies? When will I finally be relieved of the torture?
I stand here and worship you for each day, some full of dark some full of light. I praise you for the light, and I praise you for the dark, for in the dark I meet your grace. You pour out gifts, blessings, and opportunity, in spite of my wickedness and my transgressions.
Only because I choose to believe in your love for me, do you choose to pour out more on me, and I turn it back to praise. Even when I fail to give thank, and fail to honor you, and choose to fall, you still pour out. I do not deserve, I do not even try, all I do is stand in awe. May I always tap into your revolution within me.