The thing that hurts the most is the failing despite trying with all your might;
the final judgement of "your best efforts fall short."
Drowning under the weight of the realization that you could spend your life striving to rid yourself of sin and still be swimming in a bottomless pit of depravity; that you knew you couldn't tread water on your own, but somehow you ended up claiming self-sufficiency again.
It's a slippery slope to the middle of the pool, where you toil with all your might and only wear yourself out further.
Then I lifted my eyes to see the Rescuer. He was there to lift me out and set my feet on solid ground.
He alone had swam the waters; He did the work and was victorious.
The work of saving is His to do; ours to say "yes, I need you."
Then the freedom of being free, to live and move and have our being. No longer striving nonstop to stay alive, we're sealed, having been bought for a price.
The weight of sin we no longer bear, only a glorious weight to prepare.
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