Thrasher's Call

Abba, help me learn to be uneasy; I lose my breath, feel trapped, when things are tough. Help me fail; to find your love unceasing I have to sometimes fail to be enough. I know this. Why then does it feel so rough whenever something slightly goes awry? Why does my chest get tight, my mood get gruff? Why do I clench my soul, and, frantic, try to gain control, as if you’re not on high? And not just there, but present with me, too, standing with your arms out from nearby to hold my hands, to guide me back to you. I’m not okay, but that’s because I’m growing; you’re leading me to grow from truth to knowing.