You do not promise physical healing. You said, “this world will have troubles.”
You do not promise earthly treasures. You said, “store up treasures in heaven.”
You do not promise popularity or ease. You said, “take up your cross and follow me.”
And I have trouble. Need. A heavy cross to bear. Still, I sing my praises because this life, this faith, is not about easy. It’s about You.
My wise, infinite, sovereign, holy, all-knowing, faithful, loving, all-powerful, self-existent, self-sufficient, just, never-changing, merciful, eternal, good, gracious, omnipresent God. I have enough reason to praise You – to roll out of bed and press my face to the floor – because of who You are, not what I want You to do.
I am nothing. Dust. A sinful and broken woman whose only hope for any future hinges completely on the grace and mercy of You and the sacrifice Your Son made for me.
A correct understanding of You and Your incomparable glorious nature, and a correct understanding of me and my sinful corruptible heart, should humble me to make my heart right with You and desperately seek forgiveness and transformation. No matter the cost.