A Letter to My Father

Lord,

There are days I don’t understand.

Days I see the lies, the chaos, the twisting of truth.

and everything in me wants to defend myself,

to show the receipts, to prove I’m right.

But then You remind me…

“Vengeance is Mine; I will repay,” says the Lord. (Romans 12:19)

You steady my trembling hands.

You quiet the urge to fight fire with fire.

Because what would it profit me to win the battle,

and lose my witness in the process?

I thank You, God,

that I don’t understand why they act that way,

because understanding it might mean

I’d have to carry the same kind of heart.

And You’ve guarded mine.

You’ve kept it flesh, not stone. (Ezekiel 36:26)

I thank You for the restraint that feels like weakness

but is really strength wrapped in grace.

I thank You that I don’t need to expose anyone,

because time always testifies.

Character speaks louder than accusation,

and You are the keeper of both truth and time.

Let my life preach louder than my lips.

Let my peace confuse the ones who meant to harm me.

Let my light shine in the shadows they cast. (Matthew 5:16)

Bless my enemies, Lord.

Turn their lies into light.

Turn their bitterness into brightness.

Turn my anger into apathy

not the cold kind,

but the calm that trusts You’ve already seen it all.

Thank You for every trial that shaped me,

for every wound that humbled me,

for every tear that watered the roots of my faith.

I’m not perfect… I get frustrated,

I stumble, I fail…

But, I build my house upon the Rock. (Matthew 7:24–25)

So thank You, Father,

for not letting me understand wickedness,

for not letting me grow cold,

for teaching me that silence is sometimes the loudest praise.

And even when my name is whispered in rooms I never enter,

let Your name be lifted higher because of how I respond.

Amen.