There’s a self-destructive tendency that lurks beneath my pain.
It whispers that it’s futile to seek shelter from the rain,
To plug the holes my hope leaks out as I spiral toward the drain.
To strive to leave the lowest places where life has left me lain.
Why, oh Lord, this wall that I must push through just to pray?
Why, oh Lord, this rain when I so need a sunny day?
Why, my Lord, if I follow you and try to do just as you say,
Why does this path You lead me on seem to be the hardest way?
What’s that? A voice? Within my heart, reaching through my vale of tears?
“My child, my own, I am here. Let my hold you through your fears.”
A tiny bit of fog lifts, drifts away and clears.
Yet the questions still remain even as the Answer nears.
I know if I let go, I’ll land
Safe within the Father’s hands
But I withhold myself with ransom demands,
I beg compliance with my manmade plans.
Those who love me, pray for me, for I find myself so weak.
I’ll not capsize, but go down slow--a hole, a wound, a leak.
If you know the words to aid surrender, please, I beg you speak.
Sometimes it’s tough to be brave enough to go forward being meek.
