Lines

My story is told in lines-- The ones upon my face, The ones drawn in the sand, The lines I wrote in my own book. I fill the pages with my worldly thoughts, desires, my so-called needs. The pages are smeared, messy, wrong. I don't understand why-- it's my biography. I try to re-write them the way that I wished they had been written. I rip out others-- I don't want those memories. I fear there aren't enough pages left in my book; I've wasted so many. What story have I written on my soul? Has it been forever stained by what I placed there? Did I write my own obituary... But now I find that I can no longer turn back the pages, no longer re-write my history. He has wiped it all clean for me. I can now only turn forward, one page at a time. I am no longer the author of my own biorgraphy. He is my author He holds the pen His grace is the ink... But I can't see it, the pages are blank and I am afraid that I have been lost. So now I can only see one page at a time, sometimes only one sentence. Each page is filled as I am ready to receive His Word. He shows me the way I will now live my life, for Him, and for me. I no longer am afraid of what each day will bring for He has written hope upon my heart and my spirit is renewed.