Grace and Peace to you.
God, I’m worried that things won’t turn out
as I want them to.
So I’m grasping, clinging to little things,
little hopes, like remnants from a fire,
artifacts of an imagined world.
Meanwhile you pour out your presence to me.
What is this tinny little world I cling to?
Why am I hanging onto these trinkets?
What is this fear that I cherish so much?
Why am I afraid to stop and behold
your infinite abundance, laid secretly in my lap?
Does what I want lead me to abandon all things
and fall into your arms?
Is there something I want more than You?
What would it take for me to trade
what I am afraid of losing
for what can't be taken from me?
I am standing by a clear, flowing river
nervously holding water in my cupped hands
that I have carried a long time.
Why don’t I drop it, walk in, and float away?
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