I am living because I was dead; I am living because I had died. I am alive because I was buried; I am alive because of my burial (of – the – flesh). I am a paradox: a paragraph of errors being edited into fine writing. It is GOD who has written HIS Laws in my heart. My heart is flesh and paper and fire and blood and flesh and a harvest of thoughts.
I am free because of bondage; righteous because before there was this, there was sin. I am present because before now, there was a past. An ugly, best-unsaid past. I am solid because I have had weaknesses. I am hopeful because before hope, there was no place for hope. I am…because I was not until I was made to be who I am.
This is my confession: that I live because someone (the only worthy Messiah, begotten of GOD, the Holy) died my death and paid the debt for my life.
This is my conviction: that I am living: Dead to the former restraints that constrained me in my unbelief.
This is my perfection: that I am a mirror; this is my reflection: that GOD is GOD and I am in GOD and the world can wait.
This is my faith: that my old imperfection is erased and newness of words are written for me. I know I am a body of words, of expressions and indications towards meaning.
In the end, GOD is the artist and I am the art; GOD is the (and my) heart – GOD is in my heart – and that’s where I’m at. Evidently, GOD is the cause, in GOD is the course, to GOD is the Crux, off GOD is the curse, on GOD was the cross that saved my damnation – giving me life out of death; “GOD is” because all things are of GOD.
So here I am, dead to sin, alive to righteousness – being and living a life only righteous to GOD by Christ, HIS Son. My being and all that makes me are offered daily as markers of a tally to GOD; in all submission to the requirements of salvation where I am made rich even in the poverty of my estate and morality; that I would only be perfect when I am in full humility-of-purpose to GOD, my MAKER and writer of faith.
My heart shouts in amen