I am such a bitter, resentful, self-centred, grubby soul.
Full of passions where they are not helpful, cold and dead where I should be hot.
Wrapped in a bubble-wrap nest of self, peering passively through it at others, at life.
Clutching at poison thirstily though I know better.
Hurting myself but unwilling to acknowledge it hurts, too proud to see the blood.
And yet, in my own way, amid the confusion, seeking and holding onto You.
Surely that's the greatest contradiction of all.
The greatest mystery.
The proof that hope for me lies in how You hold me, even when I struggle, even when I don't feel Your hand.
a small voice
Ci thinks some of God's greatest blessings to mankind are
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