My Condition

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My condition,
conditional faith.
My condition,
conditional prayer.
My condition,
conditional belief, as though,
I could choose
whether God is, or isn’t there.

But no matter how high I built my castle walls,
protecting treasure that was only fantasy,
God broke them down with love and a pardon.
Blessed reality.

My condition,
conditional service.
My condition,
conditional love.
My condition
seemed incurable until God healed me…
He made me whole by his mercy.

The birds of the air do not sow reap or store,
yet our Father keeps them all fed.
So why do we worry?
Why do we bury
ourselves in possessions
while we lust for more?

Our condition without Christ was lost,
but praise Him, we are found.
God’s will is not for some,
but all of our devotion.
By the light His word gives me
I am my heavenly father’s child,
unconditionally.

© Joel Tipple
#21/14