You cannot tell me who my God is. All I want to do is cry and yell at the top of my lungs, but the only words that escape my mouth are whispers that say "To you be the Glory." I want to fall into a deep sleep and awaken when everything is okay. I am tired and undone. Someone has robbed me and I have taken a fist to the gut. This hurts...
But still...You cannot not tell me who my God is. ***You attempt to distort my view of him, yet my praises will find him and see him clearly.***
Life yells that I am forgotten and worthless. My blind eyes and broken spirit waits. It waits and cries out, You cannot tell me who my God is.
Despite the pain, my heart remembers He is loving, selfless, merciful and kind. The truth of his character floods my soul, overflowing past my sternum and off my tongue. This is familiar...This feeling seems more familiar than the former, foreign feeling.
My word tells me that he is patient. I will let it go. The things that make me want to give up...I will let it go. I will not curse. I will believe that he loves me and that he is good every time you tell me otherwise.