I was.

Like a rainbow in the desert
Your grace on an unthankful heart.
A promise in an ironic setting:
Skeptic of Your perfect balance;
Your rain of spirit on parched truth
I was.
And cracked ground
That couldn't absorb
Without a long, gentle rain that
Muddied all of my assumptions
With the incomprehensiveness of You.
But now, things can grow
And roots can find a home.

Let Your Word grow down deep
And produce fruit:
A testimony of Your grace.