Confession: my life is not a constant litany of praise.
For some of us have more than others, and when I look
at those whose burdens look much larger than their blessings,
I feel they need my prayer more than you need my praise
for all that’s good and right with me.
Then my moments of grateful adoration often turn into
contending with a God of inequalities.
It’s the all-night struggle at the Jabbok that still engages
me more than the green pastures where sheep do safely graze.
Serenity eludes me in a world where beasts of prey
transform green pastures into bloody killing fields.
Dear Lord, I want to revel more
in all that’s good and Godly and gracious,
even when I smell the sewers
and see the fissures of this broken world.
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