As the finish line becomes in plainer view, I nervously stare behind me for a milli-second at my non-forgiving past that tries to seduce me about those days where my pride and ego was the center of attention. Finding growth within myself, wanting to move on to a better place in my mind so that my actions will super-exceed my words so I can become someone's real life super hero. But the teetering back and forth of controlling what is right takes a back seat allowing my carnal-mind to long for the affection of a womanly touch placing me in a state of physical sin and regret. Tired of sounding like a broken record to My Lord and Savior proclaiming time and time again that "I am sorry; forgive me; i will never do it again" but making myself believe that my needs comes before God's purpose and plan. So I fall victim to me and the conclusion of my worldly thinking creates a separation between my prayer life and my relationship with God. Ashamed by the details of my actions both impromptu and without rationale, I stare at my bible hoping it would magically open and speak to me. My hands of filth, deception, and lack of control dares not to touch the holiness of God's living word because every layer of the skin that protects my bones would burn in hell. I short-breath God to touch me, create pathways of new hope, clearer vision, and mount in my chest a new heart, and as the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz wanted-a brain that cognitively sees things for what they truly are, not for the moments that be. Never would I imagine that praying for a "Rebirth" sort of speak seems more like a relapse as I speak.
1 comment:
Post a Comment