Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...



Whisper a tiny thought in me
Let it grow, let it be
Unto You, the glory You see

'Cause I'm blind to the work inside
And drudgery feeds my pride
'Til my heart and Your grace collide

I now do wonder where is Thy hand
Is it clenched in anger, upon my soul to land?
Nay, but still I pray, open my eyes to see
Your nail-pierced hand, upon which I stand

I wrote those lines a while back...a couple years back, if my memory hasn't failed me entirely. You know, it's a strange thing to look at those lines...sometimes, I look at them and smile, because my heart is bursting with agreement. At other times, as I do now, my eyes slowly, grudgingly, make their way through the verses. I wish I didn't have to read them in such a state; I wish that my heart did not know the frustration that it does now.

God, is Your grace truly so...amazing? Right now, it seems more confusing than anything. I wonder if I truly am upheld by Your hand; even if I am upheld by Your hand, am I rejoicing in the fact that I'm there? I wonder who is the angry one...You, or me? I wonder if I am less patient with myself than You are. I wonder if I'm confused because I want for me to be the perfect one, not You. I wonder...what You think of me...or more importantly...what You think of You...

posted by Bolo | 2:49 PM
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