The dichotomous nature of my One Christ.
I fuss to absorb Him in one small life.
To love an enemy, die to live.
But God is Love?
Who sends sinners to hell?
Saved by grace, but saved for works?
Justice and mercy so juxtaposed.
Confusion, angst, frustration grows.
King in a feed trough.
Surrender and stand firm.
Sing in suffering?
The only way this equation works,
Imbalanced as it is on any given day.
My momentary whim, or colored lense.
The only way to reconcile the polar jealous vengeance of my sweet Savior.
Excise my views and reputation,
My desires and interpretation.
Remove my notions,
Seal my questions.
It is solely Him, I am souly His.
I don’t matter. That they see Jesus –
instead of – not beside me.
I don’t wield the gavel or weigh the merit of goodness.
I don’t have in view earth’s timeline, stretched through eternity.
I don’t weigh my pain against my joy.
I don’t balance the scales of faith and works.
I am not, but that He Is…is enough.
Shared at Gooseberry Garden