With heavy eyes, I tell you that I’m done; that I’m ready to move on. This admittance, this insecurity, is only means to no motive. Like a sail without a boat.
Yet you look at me, in all your selfless splendor and power that calms the oceans and wakes the dead, and say, “child, you know not what you say.”
Every sin, every breath, that I have consumed and exhaled, has been on your time, and through my mindless immaturity. I know that you are right, but yet it seems so hard.
You go on to tell me though, with the loving eyes of a father, that with age, life does get harder. That with maturity comes more responsibility, and that with spiritual growth ultimately comes our own persecution.
With tears running down my face, I tell you that I don’t deserve this! I’ve sacrificed so much to get here! How could I work so hard, and reap so little? Without a word, you remind me in the most loving way that you sent your only son, to take all the sins of this world, all the mistakes of mankind, to take all the selfishness I wore like a weight upon my shoulders, away…
….For what I ask? … And though my question seems so irrelevant and disillusioned, He looks into my bloodshot eyes and says, “ because you are my child, and I am your Father…”
There are no truer words, yet no deeper meaning than those of God. And though it hurts my heart, I know I must try to live a life like the disciples: A life filled with no earthly possessions, but with everything to gain.
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