Sons of the Father.



I crawled from the hole of regret and with the back of my palms, I covered my face in shame.
I did it again. I said I would not do it yet, I did and this time, it was willful.
Just last Sunday, I had lifted my hands in faith and waved with a burning, unending desire to serve. I was going to love Him with everything and in every way. The mood had been perfect; the songs pulled water from my eyes and my voice trembled as I attempted to sing along. The message stirred up a conviction in my heart so intense that I promised never to move backwards. How could I not love this God? The one who has sacrificed so much for me. This thought shook my spirit; I made a solemn vow to exit the world of transgressions.
All it took was one empty moment. It spoke softly the first time, “it has been a long time, don’t you want to satisfy this craving?” it asked. “No one has to know, no one has to see, it is between us; as usual just you and me” it wavered on. I waved it, I was now a renewed soul, those doors had been closed, bridges burnt. But It twittered, “you lie, quit playing and do what you need to. Everyone does it anyway, what makes you so special?” It was indeed an empty moment and, it had been a while, not so long ago but a while. It shouldn’t be so bad, I thought to myself. So, I took a limp backwards, just one step, which turned into a walk and before I knew it, I was back in the hole.

Its entrance had a slippery drippy, sweet tasting substance that surged me further in. I licked desperately like a dog in heat. I followed its trail and went far further in, all the while thinking,” just one last time.” When the hunger vanished, my eyes grew wide. I was at the bottom. The walls were shocking; it reeked like a refuse dump and had an atmosphere of guilt. I was utterly debased and disgusted at myself.

Then it came again, this time with an extreme aura of arrogance, “You thought you could escape, but you’re filthy and always will be. Do you think He is going to listen to you? Not in a million years. You deserve to pay for your short comings. Your moment of reckoning is here.”

It was right, I was a disgrace, my Father wouldn’t want to see me like this. But where would I go? How far deep must I bury myself before it would be enough to pay for these deeds? I bowed my head in remorse but I still felt more like an impostor. Words failed me. I wept and beat my chest in anguish, whispering, “don’t leave me here Lord. Father, don’t leave me here.”

And just when I felt totally undeserving, He said, “In your weakness, you fell but don’t know who you are? Don’t you know whose child you are? Does an earthly parent scold their child at the point of death even if it was their foolishness that dropped them there? How much more me? Do you know the number of hair on your head? Of course, you don’t. But I do, for I have loved you long before you were born and I pronounced you mine. I am always here; all you need to do is come to me. Hold my hands when you feel weak and even in weakness hold tighter; never let go. You will crawl and fall many times before you can walk but in all those times keep your eyes on me.
I will always wait for you; I will never depart from you. It is, however, up to you to let me in.”


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