Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Price

What's life but a torturous cycle?
A cycle of wrongdoings, shame and guilt?
Of trying to justify my every human action;
Shameful,
Of the ways in which I have fallen short,
Countless numerous times.

Should I tip my hat off,
To the man who is persistent?
Who does all things right,
(Or at least he tries),
In hope of the reward that might come one day.
One day.

Or should I laugh,
Laugh at the folly of the man?
Of wanting to do right,
Only to be betrayed by his own flesh.

Life, life.
Is it not all but a futile effort?
Of attempting to make peace with my own conscience,
Clinging on to the hope that,
One day,
My transgressions will cease,
Cease from haunting my very existence.

I wish I can turn away,
Not face the things hidden in my closet,
Not be indebted by my debts.
But nothing in life comes free,
Because everything has a price.

The price of my nature,
Is the consequential death.
The perpetual grip of man's fallen nature,
Will it never let me go?
I should have lost all hopes,
And rightly so,
For who can escape death?

But I found hope in Christ.

He chose to pay the price for me,
The price of my nature,
Of my own flesh that go against me.
Jesus Christ died and he rose again.
He escaped death.
He set me free.

And in Christ I found hope.

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