As if I somehow deserved more than I have already been given,
As though the immense grace that drowns me in oceans I'll never learn to swim in
and as if being saved from a life of never knowing the most perfect being wasn't enough,
I moan.
I whine like a selfish child who doesn't want to share my toy.
How could I be so blind?
My voice cries out in a sea of other lost and broken ones, "Why, oh Lord, why?
Have you forgotten a heart? Have you somehow turned your all-seeing eye away from me?
You do not care."
How blasphemous my words seem.
My eyes drift from the encapsulating beauty of you, the one who shines like rainbows with emeralds and rubies and diamonds and I see the awful darkness. I slip and find myself in the muck of self-pity and the confining chains of complaining.
For whatever reason I make assumptions that despite the already beautiful life you've given me, you are obliged to give me more.
I turn from seeing you as my perfect Lord to seeing you as my fairy godfather, one who will grant every wish my heart could ever desire.
Your words, sharper then any two edged sword has cut me like a knife.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
the merciful, the pure in heart and the peacemakers. Blessed are the persecuted."
Blessed are you in this place right where you are.
Blessed are you whose spirit has been reduced to a lowly beggar's knees.
Blessed are you who weep over losses that are too giant for you to grasp.
Blessed are you who are gentle, who has turned away from looking to yourself and chosen to trust in God's goodness instead.
Blessed are you who desire to be right before God more than food and drink, for you shall be satisfied.
Blessed are you who give mercy even when others don't return it.
Blessed are the pure and the peacemakers.
Blessed are you.
So different then what the world is telling me. The lies this world is screaming is that I am not blessed. It points a finger straight at the places I think I deserve more and says, "You are right!
Don't you see? This is injustice!" The world tells me of how I give so much and receive so little. It shows me how I'll have to work harder to get through school then some.
It shows me the loss has torn deep holes in my heart.
And it looks with scorning eyes and says, "How can you believe that you are blessed?"
God's voice is clear, ringing true above the words of the enemy.
"Blessed are you because yours is the kingdom of heaven. You shall be comforted. You shall inherit the earth. You shall be satisfied. You will see God, you are sons of God. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven."
When I take my eyes off of my circumstance, I can see clearly.
The way I slave over things on this earth will not be rewarded here. The things that truly matter will be rewarded by God himself.
He sees. He knows.
We can choose gratitude now in the midst of fear and darkness, sadness and depression, confusion and the unknown.
We can walk in thanksgiving for the things God has already done for us.
He has already given us everything we need. If He only gave me breath in my lungs that would be enough. But can't you see? He's given so much more. Salvation, Redemption, Freedom, Life, Joy.
He has given me himself.
I deserve nothing. And yet, He has given me everything.
As though the immense grace that drowns me in oceans I'll never learn to swim in
and as if being saved from a life of never knowing the most perfect being wasn't enough,
I moan.
I whine like a selfish child who doesn't want to share my toy.
How could I be so blind?
My voice cries out in a sea of other lost and broken ones, "Why, oh Lord, why?
Have you forgotten a heart? Have you somehow turned your all-seeing eye away from me?
You do not care."
How blasphemous my words seem.
My eyes drift from the encapsulating beauty of you, the one who shines like rainbows with emeralds and rubies and diamonds and I see the awful darkness. I slip and find myself in the muck of self-pity and the confining chains of complaining.
For whatever reason I make assumptions that despite the already beautiful life you've given me, you are obliged to give me more.
I turn from seeing you as my perfect Lord to seeing you as my fairy godfather, one who will grant every wish my heart could ever desire.
Your words, sharper then any two edged sword has cut me like a knife.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
the merciful, the pure in heart and the peacemakers. Blessed are the persecuted."
Blessed are you in this place right where you are.
Blessed are you whose spirit has been reduced to a lowly beggar's knees.
Blessed are you who weep over losses that are too giant for you to grasp.
Blessed are you who are gentle, who has turned away from looking to yourself and chosen to trust in God's goodness instead.
Blessed are you who desire to be right before God more than food and drink, for you shall be satisfied.
Blessed are you who give mercy even when others don't return it.
Blessed are the pure and the peacemakers.
Blessed are you.
So different then what the world is telling me. The lies this world is screaming is that I am not blessed. It points a finger straight at the places I think I deserve more and says, "You are right!
Don't you see? This is injustice!" The world tells me of how I give so much and receive so little. It shows me how I'll have to work harder to get through school then some.
It shows me the loss has torn deep holes in my heart.
And it looks with scorning eyes and says, "How can you believe that you are blessed?"
God's voice is clear, ringing true above the words of the enemy.
"Blessed are you because yours is the kingdom of heaven. You shall be comforted. You shall inherit the earth. You shall be satisfied. You will see God, you are sons of God. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven."
When I take my eyes off of my circumstance, I can see clearly.
The way I slave over things on this earth will not be rewarded here. The things that truly matter will be rewarded by God himself.
He sees. He knows.
We can choose gratitude now in the midst of fear and darkness, sadness and depression, confusion and the unknown.
We can walk in thanksgiving for the things God has already done for us.
He has already given us everything we need. If He only gave me breath in my lungs that would be enough. But can't you see? He's given so much more. Salvation, Redemption, Freedom, Life, Joy.
He has given me himself.
I deserve nothing. And yet, He has given me everything.
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