Once again, Papa, I've become as a spoiled child, grasping for more with gluttonous fervor,
oblivious to the blatant truth that you have provided more than enough for me.
As you did warn me, this world has weakened my heart. So easily I drift to my own comprehension and understanding, despite your promises to come through.
Kill this ugliness inside of me, Abba. This grasping in vain; this selfish ambition; this doubtful, calloused approach to situations.
This is my plea for grace.
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1 comment:
i miss you praying like the crazy warrior you are, beth. :) i love you.
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