The cost of obedience?
Well, I paid for obedience with seed.
I am reaping grief,
in the currency of tears.

I pray every drop
is feeding the soil
of something yet to bloom.
That which felt wasted
will one day return bountiful.
That the pain wasn’t aimless
but sowing purpose,
deep and unseen.

I carried my cross today
as I walked toward my crucifixion.
On the tree nailed is my flesh.
Every plan I desire for me pierced.

My posture is surrender.
My hands stretched to Heaven.
Heart crushed under the weight.
Eyes on God.

I buried control
at the altar of trust.

my last words;
Not my will
but Thy will.