How do I so often forget, Lord, that I am a child of the Most High?
I am caught up in the world, ensnared by anxieties – why am I so miserable? How is it that your light does not always break through?
I have seen pictures of your country, in my dreams. It is a brilliant place, and the lights never go out. I would make for it now if you let me.
It is selfish, though, and unbecoming. Indeed, when my vision is so narrow that I cannot see beyond myself, the light cannot break in. They are all but shut.
When it expands, though, and is agile among my children and family, and my friends and neighbors, then the light comes in. More than I can stand without bowing a little, and shielding them.
What a great irony!
It must be so while tied to my nature, fallen. I groan for freedom.