What did God mean when He spoke me?

What right have I to be here on this earth?

Here,
taking up space,
demanding time,
using resources.

What right have I to demand that things be done my way?

according to my plan,
within my specifications,
according to my schedule.

I have no right to these. Not any claim on these.
Any more than you or you or you or you.

Nevertheless, I am here.
I’m meant for something. 
Meant to be someone.
Maybe I’m just meant.

What if, when God spoke me into existence, the one who I am today is exactly what He meant, exactly what He had in mind, and exactly as He hoped?

Wouldn’t that be something?!
 

About wlebolt

Life comes at you fast. I like to catch it and toss it back. Or toss it up to see where it lands. I do my best thinking when I'm moving. And my best writing when I am tapping my foot to a beat no one else hears. Kinesthetic to the core.

Posted on March 6, 2017, in Christian, God, Lent, poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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