So I fail again. At that thing that I’ve been struggling with. An insecurity that God has been enticing me out of. He speaks life over me, I don’t believe him and I fail.
I get sick of it. So I beat my chest and yell “This time will be different God. This time I’ll do right. I’ll be fixed. I’ll believe you”
And He takes me at my word. My father picks me up, twirls me around with glee, proud of me, backing me more than I back myself.
He takes us at our word.
But do we? Do we take him at his word? Do we believe him when he says “I forgive you”
or even more “I believe you”?
Sometimes… I don’t think I do.