My Lord, I seek your face. I remember my day, at the foot of the cross. I could not look up. I was there, I know I was. I have sought you, all my life. I went astray and for that I ask your forgiveness.
I was at the foot of the cross, I saw your feet, nailed and I was all too aware of just how heinous that act was, it made me ill. They will call me crazy, I do not care. It was real, I was there and I will never forget it.
I did not understand and I even became aware of my anger, for you having to go through that for me. I did not understand and still do not. I can only thank you. Even that is not enough and I know, I must take up my own cross.
Would I be willing to allow them to do this exact thing to me, to nail me to a cross? I think I would falter and deny. I ask your forgiveness.
My faith needs restoration. I am more than aware, that I am not doing a very good job, with carrying that cross. Satan attacks me, just as he has, since I was a little girl. My faith was huge and he knew it. He hurt me Lord, do not let him get me again. I ask for your protection.
As painful as it was, to sit at your feet, I want to remember that feeling, allow it to spur me on. It was real. I could not look up, why is that? I seek your face and the day I can look you in the eye.
When I was a little girl, I was so full of shame. I can remember that my own Mother would tell me, she knew I was lying because I could never look her in the eye. I know that shame but I do not want it any longer.
I want that faith, the faith of a child. I have it, it is there, but the world tells me, that it is not real. I know it is real and I know at that moment, when I sat, crouched down, at your feet, it was real. My tears were as real as the blood, I saw dripping from your wound. It fell to the ground, I looked at it, as it lay there, on the dirt. I want to be covered in your blood, the blood of protection. I want to wear the armor of righteousness. I falter.
I must remember all those feelings and ask myself, why I could not look upon you, my Lord? I ask myself, if I would let them nail, my very own son, any one of them, to that same cross? I ask myself, if I would then deny you, to spare my own son? Would I allow, my own child, just as your Mother, Mary allowed you, to be so brutally beaten, scourged, mocked and then, nailed to a cross? Her faith, must have been stronger than her sorrow. Would I scream at you to deny the Father? Would I cry out your name and beg you to take all your words back? Would my sorrow, be stronger than my faith?
I want to be able to answer these questions, before I die. Please do not test me, my Lord. Let my faith build in another fashion. Let me learn, my way, your Word, from another subject. I could not bear, the pain of childbirth, only to experience the pain of their death or being hurt. Let me die first, so I may greet them. They will be scared, let me comfort them, in their last breath but from heaven. If I could do both, I would and I believe that you will allow me to be there, in spirit. I will stand on this belief.
Heavenly Father, my anxiety is killing me and my spirit. Comfort me, my King. Calm this storm and show me the answer. You know my heart, my immeasurable pain. Please father, I cry out to you. Restore my faith. I ask for that faith, I once had. I praise Your Holy Name, my sweet Jesus and I ask for your blessings. Amen