" What do you love to do?" My husband asked
When we first married many years ago.
When I told him I wanted to be a writer
He said that I hadn't suffered enough
And would not be able to speak to those who had
But that I should be glad
That my life had been spent since my youth
As a child of God.
But he didn't understand that suffering comes
In a different way from day to day
And it causes those who love God
To feel the hurt of those for whom they pray.
Those who know what others will face on judgement day
When they are called away and they will have to pay
For the evil they have done,
And for not believing and trusting in God's Son,
Feel sadness and pain again and again.
Those who strive to live for God but fail
In their daily lives feel the sting of missing the mark,
The sadness of knowing one has let God down
By a thoughtless word or deed
Or even the failure to intercede.
It hurts those who care and causes distress and pain
As an imperfect Christian, a believer who has failed again and again
I find with it comes the desire to get on my knees
And I know God hears my pleas.
Then with His help I begin again.
No, I have not suffered as some
But I feel as if I have heard you crying
And I have rejoiced with those who have suffered greatly
When they have been welcomed into the family of God
And I write to share my love of my Savior.
I write to say that God cares and He loves you.
I write in hopes that God will put words on the tip of my pen
That will encourage someone or inspire someone.
I write trusting that God can use a cracked vessel, an imperfect child of His
That He doesn't ask that we be perfect, but willing.
I write simple things but I simply write.
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