In My Bed

The bed is soaked with my groanings.

The sheets are damp with my complaints.

My belly aches are tangled in white sheets.

How could this be God's grace?

The darkest moments are very bright now,

Though the blinds obscure all light from the window.

The beams pierce through the deep dark clouds.

They push through like lightning,

and break apart the thick walls I have built,

made from bricks shaped like white lies.

Soon, I see the reality of it all.

The pain I feel,

The darkness which surrounds me.

Is grace, indeed.

My senses are numb with self-centered cancer.

The sickness goes deeper than my belly.

It could be worse.

It should be worse.

Thank God for his amazing grace.

God Leaves Fingerprints In the Sky...

God Moves in A Mysterious Way

God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

-William Cowper


Behind a frowning Providence...He hides a smiling face.