Wading through the stuff

Have you ever looked at your life like an ocean,
Saying, "What clear, beautiful, blue water!"
Or is it more like a swampy, nasty potion,
Complete with all sorts of yucky matter?

Maybe your life is average like most--
A river with all manners of "small" pollution.
Or perhaps there are times you could boast
The yucky stuff, and times, that beautiful ocean.

The latter is where you'll find me
Wading through the stuff of life.
Sometimes gorgeous as far as the eye can see,
Others you could cut the pollution with a knife.

"Why," you might ask, in the nicest of tones,
"Is it sometimes one, and then the other?"
The answer is that each trouble hones
My ability to love my sister and brother.

Without life's troubles, I fear I would be
Someone without the knowledge of bad and good,
A person who lacks kindness and sympathy
Like a car with no engine under the hood.

"How," you might ask, ever so sweetly,
"Could hard times bring forth such caring?"
God's answer is that trials will increase greatly
Your endurance against relationships tearing.

Each trial and trouble you wade through
Builds muscle and strength and most of all joy,
'Cause as you look back at all of the sticky goo,
You realize you're stronger than some cheap toy.

You're made by God, filled with His breath,
Made not just for fun, but with a purpose,
Which will not end until the day of your death,
Yet out of His Love, even death He kept from us.

So since He sent His one and only Son,
I'll keep wading through all this stuff.
I'll keep my eyes on Him and call it fun.
Somewhere in the midst of it all, I'll find myself tough.

Tough enough to deal with nails and a cross?
Probably not. But I'll keep giving Him my all,
Keep striving to be more and more like Jesus,
Who saved those who believe from the fall.