What is it you believe? Is it a garden that requires your attending hand? Or something that stands without edification, something so absolute whether you look, pray, touch or invest it remains unchanged, immutable from the hands of anything mortal, impervious to time, wind and emotion or death.

We struggle against unseen things. We demand results that may be posted on the stormhouse walls. Yet, none would assume or remember victories without the gift of Hands that need not our attendance. We do not edify ourselves, but are grown, paved and erected to stand against the powers outside our sight by a being beyond our comprehension.

Our choice is to serve and find mystery and miracle in laying down days, prayers and objectives for the amazing outcomes of the Divine. We are in such manner defined. Our identities tied from beginning to beyond our mortal end by our allegiance to something that will always remain beyond any of us.

It is myth, this quest for self reliance or glory beyond the walls of my own imperfection. What made me makes me great, good or a miserable form of failure, pitied by all that breathes gifted air. There is nothing created either in bravado or surrender, simply my union with things on pathways I require permission to wander.

Please stop trying to coax me into disobedience. There is no contempt more deeply felt than those things that seek to pull me away from the realization of the Kings Promise. For I was not simply made to perform the whims of my own device and dimension, but to reach the stars with kindled light placed in my heart for God’s good reason.