God loves us and we don’t know why
he made a world where some men die
of drowning, others die of thirst.
We pick up pieces as we cry.
Our flesh constrained to change with time.
Frustrated, though with Christ sublime.
Once melancholy with a sigh,
then jubilant turned on a dime.
Doubt still attacks those who believe.
Some celebrate while others grieve
self-worship our most likely crime
until this mortal shell we leave.
Yet fear and pain will be dispersed,
our efforts more than reimbursed
when with all our might we cleave
to him who loves us at our worst.
© 2020 Jotham McCauley JesusSneezes.com