I couldn't put the face to the name, nor the personality to the circumstances. I still can't. It wouldn't help even if I could.
Perhaps God can heal. Time can heal. I say 'perhaps'... because I doubt? 'Perhaps' because it is cliche to be totally dependent on Him? 'Perhaps' because it can't be that simplistic?
"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"
Oh yes, but I am fearful. Very, in fact. The fear sends me into a daze, swiftly paralyses my thoughts, spreading to every cell in my body. I keep thinking, yet I know not what I'm thinking. Thoughts just haunt my mind, replaying the same scenes over and over again, refusing to loosen the grip.
What are we allowed, what are we not? What can we do, what can we not? What are God's standards and judgments? How can I meet them? If I can't, what do I do?
"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"
There's a trap here. Trapped by the devil. He's gritting his teeth and refusing to budge, clamped into whatever faith there is left. But I'm not about to let it go too. No matter what little I have left. It's a struggle, but I will win.
I will win?
God will win.
Will God win?
"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"
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