My Purpose
My opinions here don’t matter, my goal, to simply search for proof
Yet more questions are presented and I feel further from the truth
This world is clearly not my first choice, it’s a second choice at best
Filled with hardships, death and sickness and no place of blissful rest
I don’t think my heart belongs here, in this place I ‘ll never fit
Where I’m compelled to simply occupy and make the best of it
I often struggle and I grumble, at times pushed up against the fray
Where my mind remains divided, I’m not meant to live this way!
Yet in this life there seems a purpose, a simple promise made in light
Risking all to be a part of something far beyond its sight
Am I a servant charged to execute a course I did not set
By one much greater than myself whose eyes I’ve not seen yet?
Was the one who formed my structure, the one who planned my final weave?
The same who tied my parts together and caused my heart to heave?
Each thread has no beginning and its end I can not see
Yet the tapestry that’s forming has now encompassed me
Then what cause is there to argue with this weaver of my life?
As He completes a work He started by removing self and strife
But then my human form seems sculptured, my substance rooted in the earth
A mysterious creation and a wonder from my birth
Was I created and commissioned a simple vessel, somewhat odd?
Was I selected by the King of Kings to grace the hand of God?
Imagine me, an earthen vessel, being used in such a way
To pour out His love and blessing onto those throughout the day
So, am I pottery or fabric? A work of art or lump of clay?
Or is my purpose but to glorify when I’m used in different ways?
Phillip Good (From the heart of an average MK)
Remnant's Edge 
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