Heavy Stone

My heavenly father,
Papa,
Lord Jesus,
forgive me.
I have wounded you
with my impoverished view
of self dependency,
of self sufficiency,
of my chin in the air,
fists clenched,
determination to survive
with my
'just in case'
you don't come through plan.

There it is.  I've said it.
Sad small, small words,
small, silly plan.

In your love for me,
you withheld nothing,
not even your life.

Here I am,
my heart
so captivated
by you,
so hopeful,
so full and satisfied,
and so sadly,
flawed,
divided,
frightened
as the eleventh hour passes,
and the quiet grows
and I still wait
for my miracle,
my answers to expressed need.

My mind is tumultous with questions,
'Will he, will you, Lord  come through for me?'
My heart doubts your goodness,
it doubts despite the evidence of it,
it doubts perhaps because I have 'why?' questions
with no answer.

This unbelief,
my unbelief
is a heavy stone.

Forgive me Lord.
You, whom I so dearly love,
forgive me
this ugly wound,
this unbelief,
my unbelief,
my ridiculous survival plans.

I choose you,
renew me again,
be my strength.
I rest in you,
trust in you,
and wait.

Copyright Joy Chastagner Februrary 2013