Walk On

101 blog posts.

101 moods.

101 views.

101 primal screams.

101 reverent whispers.

101 dichotomies.

101 memories.

101 doubts.

101 miracles.

101 heartbreaks.

The poetry to be created in every moment of every human life is the voice of God. From losing yourself in passion to deep contemplative self inspection, God ranges in the human field.

Jesus, my lord. I am unsure again. I have sinned against you. I've looked at porn. I masturbated. I struggle at this moment to claim your faithfulness. Was it ever anything more than your faithfulness that kept me sane? No. Of course not. Yet I wince with sorrow at my drift from the truth. Why, Lord, do I keep on slipping into the denial of your faithfulness? Why do I continue to act out of a fear that you won't be enough, good enough, fun enough, happy enough, loving enough, gentle enough, patient enough, generous enough?

I don't want to masturbate any more. I don't want to lust any more. I want to be secure in you, and know it so deeply that I am not motivated out of fearful deceptions to sin. Let me be confident forever more that you are in me, and that I am free from condemnation, that I don't need to degrade myself with unworthy behavior, with self punishment. Let me know that I am worthy to do good, and that it is right for me to be righteous for who you are in me.

I tell you Lord, though I know you already know,(it's more for my sake) I have felt that it is so much harder to do good for fear that someone may think I'm not worthy of it, though I have longed to do a good work many a time and not acted. I fear people being offended at my selflessness. I fear they look at me and hate me for the conviction goodness brings to them. I fear their jealous hatred of my taking the good portion you have given me. I'm scared God. I don't want them to hurt me. I don't want them to abandon me if I strive to do your work. I don't want them to think me a prude. I don't want to be called a square. I don't want them to leave me out. I don't want to be a loser to them. Yet, over and over I fall into sin because I am too scared to claim the fullness of Christ in me, so I continue to act out a different identity: that of a sinner, of a godless, empty vessel. Help me believe that I am set from the lie, and from the sin, and that no darkness is in me as I am in you.

Make me know always that I am in you and worthy to be your servant, that I am adequate as I am in Christ, perfect, perfectly equipped for a holy and righteous life, without blemish, just as you are without blemish.

I will confess my sin and bear no shame for the things I have done, for I believe that they are entirely absolved by you. I will fear no rejection, because I long for you above all.

Thank you for the peace and the assurance that I have in you, Jesus. Thank you that you erase the debt of sin, the hanging over debt that would crush me. I will grieve with joy. The sorrow that I have missed the mark will be tempered with the certainty I cannot miss The Mark, because he lives with in, and steadies my aim on you.

What can your servant say, now? I just want to talk to you. I'm addicted to words. I could go on and on. I just love you so much and I wish that I could just pour my heart out without incessant talking. I could just spew forever. Would I say anything that really captured the prey my hearts hunts? No. Probably not. Even so I feel compelled to talk, or write, as in I can't stop.

God. I love all you have taught me, yet I struggle not to let it cloud the simple truth and function of the Good News. You are faithful, Jesus proved it. You don't give up, and you have paid the full price. All I have to do is believe that, in every situation, no matter how irrelevant it seems, it is the most effective work, and the only work. It is the truth of your faithfulness that over arches all other activity.

You will take care of me, make me perfect, and you have done it all in the Cross, by dying and rising. Okay. Rest. No worries. You have got me. I've got you. Good News. Good Night.