Saturday, February 8, 2020

I doubt. My rope stretched to the limit, I hope for rescue. I call out for your help, Lord, begging. This hope, masquerading as faith, holds the seeds of my doubt. What if you do not answer? What if I fall?

Where is sure confidence, Lord? Where indeed is gratitude?

O God, grow my faith. Let me give thanks for the wasteland over which I dangle.

(Letter #1,855)