Exhaling

Your Way is Your way

            and their way is mine, having crossed over

            to freedom through a parted sea that seemed no way,

            guided by cloud and fire, now my

            gratitude fades into the sand of this wilderness

            that I must traverse;

            I hear my heart whining for Egyptian cucumbers and

            my mind seizes the same old idolatries it once rejected.

Your Way is Your way

            and my way is not, charted by the fear and

            need that blind and compel me to run forward in blindness,

            causing me to stumble and beg for what is not mine to have;

            like a mule, I cannot be lead by what is clear

            nor am I likely to keep moving on principle.

            My own darkness and fallenness are crippling and

            I will not be lifted by Your bright wing.

Your Way is THE way

            and Your Word is Truth, from before the world or I began

            but I cannot run in this Way, crippled as I am

            by my own desires and sense and fear and sin.

            I look to Your covenant of salvation as my only hope;

            Your steadfast love must be enough for me.

            I see what You have given for my freedom and glimpse

            beyond cucumbers and golden beasts and even desert waters

            that I can be saved if only I concede that

Your way is mine.