Will I Call Out?
How deep will I sink into the murkiness that is Sin?
How dark will it get? So dark it blinds me. It wraps itself around me, seeps into me, into every pore—stifling, dragging me down. Yet I welcome it. Why?
Because it’s easier, easier than admitting, easier than asking for help, easier than being dependent, easier than going against the grain—being different.
How cold will it get as I sink into the miry abyss? The deeper I go, the colder it gets.The chill hits my bones and enters further into me still.
Until it touches the innermost part of me, where nothing should venture but You.
Wraps its tentacles around me—constricts.
And the darkness comes again, blacker still.
How long will I wait before I let out my breath and reach up my hands to the heavens?
Squeeze my eyes tight so tears fall?
Grit my teeth as my knees hit the ground and I repent?
And mean it.
Your arms break the surface. The sunlight dances on the ripples.
The Light opens my eyes and I am pulled toward You.
I leave the darkness behind, pulled from the fog into the clear air—crisp and fresh.
And You embrace me to ward off the chill.
Later, as You watch me You aren’t far away—You never are.
I venture to the edge as I’ve done so often before. I look into the depths where I’ve been so often before, and my feet slip on the mud.
I cry out to You and You catch me.
And I weep because I got so close . . . and I know I’ll do it again.
And again, You will be there.
But next time, next time, will I call out?
Or will I let myself fall? --Soul Journey Sept. 28th, 2004
It Truely is Good to be Loved | 
