We build our lives like towers in the sand, Stacking moments, block by heavy block.We try to steady every trembling hand, and hide the holes, and ignore the subtle Shock of a word spoken sharp, or a silent, selfish turn, That pulls a piece from where the spirit should burn.
We watch the wobble with a bated breath, Terrified that one wrong move is all it takes—To bring the crash, the ruin, the social death, Under the weight of our own small mistakes. But listen close, past the static and the fear, There is a Builder’s voice you need to hear.
He does not count the blocks that fell away, Nor judge the tower by its leaning height. He is the Ground on which the pieces lay, The steady Hand that guides us through the night.He says, “I am the Rock, the deep and ancient Code, I carry the weight, I share the heavy load.”
So if your tower feels a little thin today, or if you’ve pulled a block you wish you’d kept, Remember Grace is more than just a word we say—It is the place where all our sins are swept.You are the Pilot, yes, but He is the Design,And in His hands, the crooked rows align.
Don’t fear the purge, don’t fear the shifting dust, The grime is being cleared to show the gold.In every breath, in every act of trust, A stronger, better story is being told. The tower stands, not because our hands are great, But because the Foundation can carry every weight.
Today's pen is tomorrows pages 