I want to believe that I would be that child; the one who would run to a stranger Savior, to feel the comfort of a bouncing knee, a calloused hand on my head.
I want to believe I would be that desperate father who, instead of running for a doctor, would run toward faith in a chance.
I want to believe that I would be that woman, when all else has failed, to grasp a hem of hope in the midst of a crowd.
I want to believe my choice at a well would lead to a family tree reborn.
I want to believe that if I were to choose, that my choice would lead me to the feet of Christ, and not a to do list incomplete.
I want to believe that my heart's utmost desire would be to look in the eyes of Christ with beloved anticipation for the next glance.
I want to believe that sacrifice of precious things and dirtied hair would be as nothing for the sake of serving Him.
I want to believe every word God ever said about me and to me.
But I'm not there, and my faith choices are ever before me. "I believe; help my unbelief!"
