Doubt

I am not prone to doubt. ⁣

⁣

Prone to fear— sure.⁣

Prone to apathy— it comes and goes. ⁣

But, I’m not a doubter. A questioner—yes. I’m always questioning, but that isn’t the same as doubt. ⁣

My faith is strong. My feet are solidly planted on this hill of Calvary. I trust easily and forgive quickly. ⁣

Yet, tonight I sit here wondering if I believe in miracles. ⁣

This is my confession from the valley. ⁣

⁣

I believe to my bones the good shepherd will walk every step with me, but I don’t dare ask for a miracle— because I doubt. ⁣I offer you my honesty from these shadows tonight and ask you to be gentle. Forgive this vague plea for empathy in my unfamiliar doubtfulness. ⁣I’m finding right now this light and easy burden is heavier than I feel it ought to be.⁣

Tell me of miracles if you must. I will believe you and give praise to the God of miracles. I see so quickly every small, day to day miracle. ⁣But when it comes to asking for a big one on behalf of my own—Lord help my unbelief, but you’ve let me down before. ⁣

⁣

He sits close tonight, knowing and holding my doubts in his hands. ⁣

⁣

And after a while he gently points out—⁣

even the glass of wine I’m holding whispers of miracles. ⁣

⁣⁣