Grace

I’ve messed up again
chasing things that will not last
idols in a fallen world
meant to numb me of my past

Living like I’m in control
yet knowing deep within
my God, my Father up above
shakes his head again

Unworthy to return
I drop my chin to hide
my eyes that feel the pain
as he puts his hands in mine

Son, I’ve always loved you
welcome back, enjoy my home
you think you don’t deserve this
but I know you’re flesh and bone

Next time you’ll find strength
if you call on me instead
of thinking the moment matters
in the scheme of life ahead

My grace is yours to have
regardless of your past
mercies new each morning
I build castles that will last

As a child you believed
that from your sins, I can save
not knowing anger, lust, and greed
would be attributes that enslave

Let me do what I promised
not just prepare for you a place
but give you life to the fullest
freedom from sin, not just a taste

Door

A dim light flickers as if caught in the wind at the far end of a long hallway. The pitch black voids my senses except for a growing amber hue, cast faintly toward me. I debate each step, only the creaking hardwood floor convinces me of my progress. My neck hairs bristle as I approach. My tongue dries, wishing to swallow but unable. As I near, the glow takes shape. A stained glass door faces me. The curry pane reveals action on the other side. An outside sun makes shadows dance and sway, illuminating the artwork within the door, creating movement in a design that resembles eternity.

Does my curiosity drive me to open the door or should I retreat back down the dark hall, returning to my meaningless life? The door apparently serves a purpose. The worn handle shows its use by many or at least many times. What adventure begins upon entry?

Depressing the cold lever, I hear the clank of metal upon metal but feel no movement. My stomach tightens, sensing the inevitable, like waiting for the roller coaster to climb the first hill. The hinges squeak as the door pries outward. I glance behind me; light floods the hall making the choice obvious not to turn away.

I step through. The sun warms my face and I smell freshness similar to Colorado air. Beauty inundates my eyes, from brilliant roses growing without thorns to authentic smiles seen as diverse people sing together.

A venerable man makes his way over to me, as I linger at the doorway, and says, “Welcome home.”