Their questions beckon of why such a faith?
“Why do you believe what you do?”
Their curiosity stalks all of my words,
With the weight of the world’s stomping shoe.
Seeking the answer for what they find missing,
This mystery that I call my Lord.
He’s more than just Sunday morning mission,
He’s the direction I keep walking toward.
They ask, “How do you know? Why do you trust,
Something unseen to your eyes?”
They watch my steps from a perch of their own,
Hoping to discover why I still abide.
The resistance, the fervor, the strength to still stand,
When around me, it all falls apart.
The struggle, the climb, the battle, the falls,
The repurpose of a once shattered heart.
My reply is simple, an instinctive tell,
I did not need a book or degree,
When all had abandoned, He did not pass by,
In that hour that I first believed.
My life was a tangle, I’d messed it all up,
Marching decidedly to my demise.
From the edge of the cliff, I called out his name,
With no hesitation, He opened my eyes.
There was nothing special about my soul,
Except that He loved me so.
Lost and broken I reached out my hand,
And met His promise not to let go.
He heard my wailing, He knew my voice,
And rushed mercy and grace right my way,
In my lowest moment, when all others left,
He made the choice only to stay.
Because of this, my attention is His,
My faith wobbles, but won’t fall down.
I believe that His words are words of truth,
His heart revealed on proven ground.
So I will call on Him as long as I live,
My resolve firm, my intentions true.
When I was in need, He never wavered,
Even now He still makes each day new.
Who knows where my gifts would have landed,
If I had chosen not to be heard.
I certainly would not be telling this story,
You would not be reading these words.
The why has found me with joy of rest,
My purpose and point no longer are dim.
Now there is no story that I want to tell,
That does not end with Him.