I can't lift my hands for fear of touching the sun. I stoop to avoid burning my face. I crawl to feel my way.
There is no glory of a life in sin.
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I will make you cry tears of blood. Get ready to be depressed.
Dance in the Full Moon
O, the Frailty of Memory
Pride Goeth Before a Fall
Hindsight
My Serial Mistakes
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Oh, goodness. This is beautifully done (of course it is; should I even bother mentioning it when it always is?). But part of its beauty is in how terrible it is.
ReplyDeleteThere IS no glory in a life of sin.
But then . . . you know, there's more. Because God sets aside His glory and comes to us and waits for us to trust Him enough to let Him set us free.
I am still learning that, and I fear the learning of it will last a lifetime. Still . . . I don't know; maybe I'm a bit like Tolkien and that's why I say you cannot leave it there.
What's really amazing is that God clothed His glory in human flesh and came to rescue us. It's like the best special ops op that ever was or ever will be.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful, Robby, but I agree with Janelle (and Tolkien, I suppose): please don't leave it there because the story doesn't end there. :D
Thanks. I just had a thought and supposed I should share it.
ReplyDeleteThere's always more to every story. I've never known one to end just bam and never pick up again. That would be silly.