I sit here thinking on my life,
Recalling times of joy and strife,
And thanking God for what His will has done.
If my life were words and lines,
Then there are lines I’d never write,
For fear that subplot might consume my soul.
Would you write ‘death’ or ‘pain’ or ‘cancer,’
Scribble in a lack of answers,
Or author up some hardships for your life?
Would you compose a dash of trials,
Just a pinch of heartache,
If you knew things would unfold just as you write them?
None of us would want this pain.
And yet, by grace I’ve come to learn
Its value in the plot.
God is Author of all things.
His pen has written what will be,
Long before things were.
Each difficulty has its place.
It gives a thirst for peace and grace
Found only through His Son.
Sometimes I fail to cling to Him
When life is bless’d and sweet.
Seldom has an average day
Forced me to His feet.
And if it’s true that at His feet
Are stores of grace so bright,
A centeredness and selflessness,
A most abundant life,
Then all the writings in this plot,
Each twisting of the pen,
Each counterpoint, each conflict,
Every trial, every pain,
Each one driving me to kneel,
Before my Lord of Life,
Can these be but mercy,
Love, and grace come in disguise?
And so, my heart is thankful
For the things I have and don’t.
I am more than full and filled up
By my Author, Lamb, and Lord.