Unwavering roots
Today, I stand before you, not as a mere poet, but as a vessel—a storyteller weaving threads of faith, doubt, and redemption.
Picture an ancient olive tree, gnarled and weathered, its roots gripping the rocky soil. Faith, my friends, is like those roots—an unseen force that sustains us through storms.Hebrews 11:1:'Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.My journey of faith led me through wildernesses—dark nights of questioning, where stars seemed distant and prayers echoed back. But oh, the beauty of persistence! Like a mustard seed, my faith grew—a stubborn sprout pushing through rocky doubts, seeking light. And then came the fire—the refining flames that tested my resolve. I stood in the furnace, my faith ablaze, yet unbroken. For faith isn't merely belief; it's the courage to walk through flames, knowing that the Refiner stands beside us.
In the quiet corners of our souls,
Where shadows linger and doubts take hold,
There lies a story of a wanderer's path,
A prodigal heart seeking its way back.
Once, we danced in the Father's light,
Our steps sure, our faith burning bright.
But the world beckoned, its allure strong,
And we strayed, oh how we went wrong.
We chased empty promises, fleeting joys,
Trading grace for ashes, love for noise.
The road was rocky, the nights were cold,
Yet still, the Father's love never grew old.
He waited, arms open wide,
His eyes scanning the horizon, undenied.
For every lost sheep, every broken soul,
He longed to see them whole, once more whole.
And then, one day, weary and worn,
We stumbled back, hearts bruised and torn.
The Father ran, His robe trailing behind,
Embracing us, whispering, "You're mine."
His forgiveness flowed like a river's tide,
Washing away shame, erasing pride.
No condemnation, no judgment, just grace,
As we wept in His arms, seeking our place.
The angels rejoiced, the heavens sang,
For the prodigals returned, their hearts rang.
And in that sacred moment, we knew,
Faith could mend what was broken and renew.
For faith is not lost, it's just misplaced,
And the Prodigal's return is heaven's embrace.
Copyright © Mercy Cherryll | Year Posted 2024
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