Direction

Questions fill my thoughts

And stream into my prayers

I seek answers but

They're nowhere to be found

But, wait! I see them

They're in Your hands,

O God of Abraham

They're clasped within

Your iron-clad fists

I keep praying questions

But You return with silence

Suddenly, You crush the

Answers within Your hands

I don't understand

I need them

I cry and I flail

Questioning You now

Then, Your empty hands

Raise and I assume

You're going to discipline

Me for my lack of faith

But, You don't

What were once iron-clad

Fists are now

Gently caressing fingertips

Stroking my face

With the love of a Father

Abba, Daddy

I confess my questions

Forgive my sinfulness

And restore my broken heart

I beg for You to lift

My face from Your hands

And lift it to Your eyes

From where I know my

Direction