Sinister

Papa,
My times of refreshing come from Your presence and I can smell the fragrance of Your goodness this morning.  It rustles through the branches that frame the sky outside my window.  It echoes into the depths where my selfishness tries to subtly drown it out.  This crack, Lord, sheds some light on what is down below the surface.  Because it is much easier to keep the surface neat and clean, prim and proper, than it is to keep the cavernous depths free of cobwebs and nasty growths.  Too often and too easily I happily forget that.  I am not what I want to be.  Please forgive me.  What is revealed today is more sinister than I would care to admit.  Yet I don't want to cover it back up.  Grow Your grace in me, in those deeply ugly places.