I wept for you.  Not because some ill issue had fallen upon you, but because you were forced to withstand my criticism, my scholastic review in all its gilded glitter and sanctimonious acidity.  My words are of little affect whether meant in constructive pride or tempered with positive intention.  I am and never will be your teacher, guide, principle, confidante or uncle.  It has been so easy in my ill equipped state of self dependence to believe myself adequate to the task of showing you the light of God.  I am not a failure for at this task I lacked requisite authority by which to succeed.  My fool’s errand.  I only hope that you remember my love for Him, His Words I took the time to repeat and His sermons preached from my country lips.

Father, I know that you will forgive, but I thank you for bearing with me and patiently awaiting my awareness of a lesson I resisted so confidently.  I do so love you.  Let that simple truth be the ember to flame all future ministry.  I hear them, but I listen only long enough to say something brilliant enough to sustain my own wick.  Must I remain this wretched, this hopelessly unencumbered by true Christian wisdom?  I sit at the bottom of a narrow well of my own construction making hand puppets at the sky, hoping to be clever enough to show someone the way to Jesus, as I languish in the chains of my own self-righteousness.  It is great wonder how I managed to assist in even a small proportion.

Does intention matter, does heart, do dreams and kindness or prayer?  Then I shall stay in prayer, silent of my own festering, leaving the waters untainted by my spots or coloring.  If I may say anything let me say Christ, Him voluntarily sacrificed as culmination of a divine plan, so astounding that it amazes every angelic conversation.  I would speak of a church standing, preparing, being knit together and spliced into the natural olive tree with its predecessor the Jewish nation, bound together as one body in Christ, with Christ, through the Love, power and authority of Christ Jesus the King.  Born for one purpose to glorify God.  Would these words matter.  yes, but only in their inspiration, their leading away from attention upon my inadequacy, but used as breadcrumbs leading to the skinny path toward eternity.

I will certainly fail as this is my destiny, but in my absolute, assured failure, He will find success for the Kingdom, reborn from my poor intent, covetous heart or self-guided intention, remade into miracle and greatness.  We serve El Shaddai, Jehovah Rafah, the Master Potter of Creation who will prove that my purpose was perfectly unmistaken.  He will have His success in my greatest moment of helplessness and utter loss for that is the mystery of my making.  Born to serve a King I don’t deserve with limited skills and child like understanding.  May His Will be served even in my destruction.  Jesus be praised Amen.