As hours evolves into days and days into years, I understand the outcry of Apostle Paul in Romans 7:15. its an honest cry of frustration and angst against oneself.
Father, as you can see these days I have been drowning in shallow waters. The life you have called me to live is a difficult one. lets be frank with each other. I have struggled to find balance amidst of the waves and I have sunk deeper and deeper. knowledge is power but the knowledge I have garnered have failed to transform into power. I have read about your spirit and how it has chosen my body for a home yet I cant draw Him to help me. Your word breezes across the ears of my spirit whenever I am overwhelmed with these tides that covers my head. it ministers sweets words to my ears, it flexes its reservoir of power in my face but yet I cant seem to use it. I sit by the reservoir daily with my pohra but I have no energy to draw.
Father I ask, ‘when will my knowledge become power’
Father, lately I found out that I have a noisy neighbour called Jealousy. He sits across my flat whenever he smells that I am overwhelmed. He paints the tales of others that you have helped and reminds me that if you cared or had a plan for me I would have been helped a long time ago. sadly I have bought those tales. I catch myself rolling green eyes when I listen to the story of those you rescued from the prisons of their flesh. I sigh at the supernatural spice of their stories and it dawns on me that they were rescued because you had an important plan for them.
It begs the question: what about me Father, is there no urgency for my redemption?
Am I just a number in the crowd, was I meant to be a life lesson to the wayward, am I just another Lots wife or another Samson? am I just another lost potential?
Father, I shudder when I remember stories of men that struggled to find balance with You and lost. details of their fight against the flesh replays in my memory lane. They tried their best to live like you wanted them to, they were honest in their pleas for mercy, but yet the flesh won. I wonder what you felt, when they cried, I wonder what you did when they asked for help? I wonder if you delivered them to the fate of their flesh or they delivered themselves.
Father, the possibility that the flesh can win scares me
I know you wear the cloak of impartiality, but why have you chosen to rescue some people supernaturally and left some to the fate the flesh decides for them. why have you chosen a few to tell stories of victories over the flesh and left others to die with their potential. I fear for the end of this story Father. For my days have blossomed into years and I have cuddled the same stone disguising as pillows over and over again.
Father, can’t you see that I struggle?
