Sometimes it's just not easy.
If I could count the number of times I let Him go the shame would rise on my cheeks, burn red hot like crimson. Foolish girl I am day by day. He is there and he calls me back home.
Far fetched...that's what some might say about the idea of a man dying on the cross for them and then rising again to make a place. I have wondered myself. Here is what I have to say about that-
I am not who I used to be. A young girl with no dream to carry in her heart going down a path of destruction just waiting for the world to fall down around her, and it did.
Who I am now, after years of turning away and coming home again, a woman with a dream ready to take on the world for Christ.
I've spent years, 11 to be exact, walking around doing things on my own with a thought that wrestles constant. "Don't you know the way"...
It's hard to always have that nagging thought. The conscience that says I'm here waiting when you finally come to your senses. Yes, being a christian is hard. The Man upstairs NEVER lets go even if you think you want him to.
That's a tough spot to be in, isn't it? But, why would he let go?
God in the flesh...came down.
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death-
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
Why would he let me go? Beaten and bloody this man, my Lord, Jesus Christ hanging on a cross crying out in agony because of me and for me.