WTF or TYJ

I have a confession to make.

I have become a WTF kind of person,
an ATF break down the door bullet proof vest wearing flash bomb throwing sort of man,
storming the gates of hell, and every other gate or door that gets in my way,
(alone usually),
in the face of adversity,
every stubbed toe or finger or bruised ego,
driver cutting me off,
hurtful words or someone’s stupid decision.
WTF?! I shout or think.
How dare they?
How dare You, God?
To me?
Me?!

Uh, yeah!
Who else?
Who am I to think I am immune to the stuff of life?
the SOS,
stinky sticky stuff
that seems to just get on everything,
Everything!
(And if I am suddenly blessed,
it is so I can bless others.
Period).

Newsflash!
This ain’t about me.
Never has been.
Never will be.
(What’s this stuff about becoming less?)
I’m a dead man.
(Supposed to be or should’ve been anyway).
That’s the meaning of being redeemed, right?
Now alive in Christ.
Hopefully.
Really?
Yeah.
(I think anyways).

So it’s high time for some
TYJ.
Thank You, Jesus.
Regardless what happens.
Instead of yeah you know that other acromonious acronym that comes to,
and seems to have taken over,
my mind.

So surprise me, God.
(I think).
I know.
I know.
I got my eyes squeezed shut.
I still really don’t like this.
But I know it’s the right way to be.
Faith, I think it’s called.
Yeah. Yeah.
I hear You.
Ok.
Ok.

TYJ.

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