Many nights I lay without sleep in my bed, with words forming in my thought.
Words of thanksgiving, to my savior. Words of my salvation. Words of grief. Words of conviction.
I tried to brush them aside. I tried to erase them. But again and again they come. They linger, and I linger on them.
Tomorrow I shall write them down, my Lord. Tomorrow.
But the tomorrow is ever so far away, it never arrive.
And the Holy Spirit pressed on. He pressed a nerve and He will not let go. I have no rest. Sleep eludes me. And the words keep coming.
So I write. I start writing.
Today I dedicated my hands to the Lord. May He use them according to His need.
And today after the prayer I sinned. I did not go on well by myself that long without my Lord. I felt defeated. How can I write what you have on my mind when myself is a hopeless wretch, my Lord?
Does that not make me a hypocrite? Shall I be silent instead?
But my God is ever so merciful.
Yes, today you have sinned.
Yes, today you have been defeated by your own flesh.
Yet today you are still my daughter. And tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and forever and ever you will be my daughter.
My sins, not in part but whole, was nailed to the cross with Him!
So I write. I shall write about my sin, my defeat, my struggle, His conviction; but I shall write more about His love, His mercies, His grace, His glory!
I shall write for Him but no one else!
To him be the glory forever and ever, no matter I have failed or have held on today, amen!