The Promise Says:

“Sure of what we hope for,
Certain of what we do not see.”
Faith is what our ancestors are known for.
It’s a promise to you and me.

Yet, our faith can falter.
Our souls, susceptible to fatigue.
You feel like giving up,
“I’m way out of my league.”

Predictability is our preference,

Thinking about our future.
Uncertainty raises its head.
Our faith requires a suture.

Routines are our tendency.
Pathways to dreams to realize.
What things don’t turn out as we’d planned,
We learn to compromise.

Original we’re born to be.
Or so they tell us at our christening.
Living lives of replication,
You wonder if we’re listening.

Mistakes are unacceptable.
Until you make one and must cope.
Learning as we go,
It’s our only hope.

Independence is essential.
Self-contained and without need.
Many suffocate in silence,
Alone amongst their greed.

Surety is our goal,
A life without a doubt.
When it doesn’t happen,
We adapt to live without.

Expectations are essential.
Without them, you’re a fool.
If you don’t measure up,
You’ll fall prey to ridicule.

Security is our penchant,
All things certain, safe and sound.
We avoid the essential risks,
Where heaven’s to be found.

Answers are our inclination.
So busy, we don’t have much time.
We settle for the short and simple ones,
Neglecting wisdom is our crime.

Yearning is our nature.
Can’t seem to get enough of more.
Pursuing that which cannot be had,
We trample the marginalized and the poor.

Safety is a necessity.
An existence without fear.
Deceived by all these notions,
God, I need to know You’re here.