I was fore-warned that the walk was going to be rough. And as kids we were always told that when the going gets tough, so does the tough get going. Consequently I put my muscles in my faith’s position and told God
‘Hold up! I got this.’
I tried with all my might. But naturally, I failed. I searched for solutions to calm the storm and got frustration in result. It was futile.

Then a familiar stranger said to me that all I have been doing would never be. That it’s not by our might, it’s not by strength or power that we are saved. But by the spirit of the most high God. Thus like a contrite prodigal, I returned home. I cried to the heavens. Loudly screamed. Hoping against all hope that it would turn my nightmares in sweet dreams. For three days I tasted nothing but the bland flavor of water, and the excruciating feel of biting hunger. You know, the proverbial starvation of the body in order to feed the soul. All in the conviction that He will be faithful enough to free me from the chains of bondage of sin.

Hoping that the debt that was settled on the cross already purchased my redemption from the ultimate wages of sin. But then, for the first time (it seems), hard work went unrewarded. And prayers were passed over and ignored. For once my supplications seemed as cursed as the fig tree that bore no fruit.And then the stranger reminded me that even if He may never answer when I call… God will always be on time. That His time is the best. So now here I am. Waiting. Waiting for God’s right time.

(Eloi! Eloi! Lama sabachthani)

In the meantime, my life remains to be as good as wrecked. I have been scorned by temptation and the devastating effects have left nothing but a pitiable object whimpering for life. My skin is peeled and my emotions completely undisciplined. I cannot understand the meaning of faith any more than I can decipher hieroglyphics. He claimed that His graces were sufficient for all of us, yet He overlooked me when handing them down. As a result, He took away the only confidence I had left and then abandoned me in the desert to face the heat, snakes and scorpions alone.

I guess they (I don’t know who) were right when they opined that the proof of love is pain. If I didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt this bad.

He is running late. He has stood me up yet again and I have been sitted at the coffee shop- ordering the umpteenth cup as I wait for Him to come. He said he would be on time. Yet no signs of Him or His grace is forthcoming.

Nonetheless, I am still waiting…because I do not want to believe that He would lie to me. Maybe He has a good explanation as to why I have been embarrassed in the eyes of all that is seen and unseen for His sake.

And I hope He is worth the wait. See I am nothing but a piece clay, so I can not conceive why would chose to not show up and still claim to love me. I hope He understands when my inquisitive little mind forces me to question why the romance seems to be one way. This disillusionment has fleeced my soul of the little faith I once had and left it hollow. So how can I- a mere mortal who has been bludgeoned by circumstances; lost injured and hurt by chance… not ask such simple questions like…







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