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.
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