You Always Have A Choice
I know the things I’ve done wrong. They’re here, right under the surface and lingering in the crevices of my memory. They taunt me and haunt me through cobwebs and open wounds. I know the things I’ve done wrong.
So, when you say I’m forgiven, forgive me if it’s a little too much to take in. A little too farfetched. A little too naïve.
I don’t understand how a God I’ve never even seen can possibly forgive all these things that seem like part of my DNA. These choices and words spoken and thoughts held and every single mistake. It’s all part of me and I just don’t understand.
But He says I don’t need to understand; I just need to believe.
Believe it’s possible that the God who knows all could love me.
Believe it’s possible that the God who created the world cares about me.
Believe it’s possible that the God who sent His son did it for me.
And every time I choose to believe the cobwebs clear and dark places are lit up. The haunting stops being scary and instead becomes history. The wounds are tended and the healing begins.
Every time I believe it is possible.
Remembering this can be so hard. I tend to look so inward while at the same time hiding those places in me. But God sees it all and it doesn’t even shake Him. Not for a second.
About Becky Hastings
I am emotional and logical. I am strong and dependent. I am a juxtaposition of head and heart exploring it all through writing. And in all my mixed-up ways I am loved. I'm here to tell you that you are, too. Just the way you are.