The paths of grace/ Diary of an agnostic
Well, I can't understand
How a rational man
Could admit to this,
But somewhere inside
There's a visceral cry
For something more than this.
So is it a stone or a beating heart?
Is it oil on canvas or work of art?
A hunger for meaning that's more
Than a trick of the mind?
Or am I a note in a beautiful song,
With a great Orchestrator who says
At the side of the road
Where the lavender grows
There's a hint of you.
In the smile of surprise,
In the look of the eyes,
Just a glimpse of you.
A mystery pulses beneath the skin,
With places and times where the layers are thin;
Oh, give me the courage to dig through
The mud and the mire
To find what's been calling me all along,
A Love that embraces and says
So I called to the sky,
And the whispered reply
Sounded next to me.
He was here all along
Through the rain and the sun
Watching over me.
And I’m learning to walk in the paths of grace:
It’s not where you are, it’s the way you face.
The past is behind, and the future
Is safe in His hands.
There’s joy in this knowing and being known,
And I may be a pilgrim who’s far from home,
But I know where I’m going and where