Dear Creator of Easter,
Each year You meet me
At just the time I struggle to
Believe
That my messes are not a sign
That my failures define me
That Your death was not tidy
And that the only thing perfect
In all that led to Your resurrection
Was Your love
My Savior,
Your work is the proof
That when I forget to
Believe
In what You’ve made me to be
I see the way Your grace
Shined light from that road of suffering
Through each dark, agonizing moment
That brought chaos to the grieving
Who were searching for meaning
And found hope
In the place they never would have chosen
To seek You, yet it’s the only way to truly
Believe
That the answers are never where
We think we’ll find them
No matter how much we might try to deny
That we need our messes to receive Your grace
Our efforts are nothing when we see
The living face of Jesus