He makes the road rise

I think I believe, sometimes, that it's my job to crash. If there is a God who is eternally good, then the only way bad can exist in my life is through me. Think about that for a second, because that'll take you where I go.

Good needs evil. If there is nothing corrupt, then what is pure? Everyone agrees, and has been agreeing, on this. Does God need us, though? I mean, that's a good question, right?

If he's all-powerful, then no. Why would he need us?
But he still made us, so we do have some sort of needful purpose.

Fascinating. After all this time, I still don't understand. And it's good. It's difficult for me to surrender my intellect because I am my father's son. This type of submission sets me and others apart, because we're not meant to understand-- not out of pity or condescension, just practicality. I'm a vapor in the wind, and that makes me wonder why I'm trying to understand the breeze that pushes me through the air.

Skeptics say that makes it easier to deal with stupidity.
I say this is the only way you can possibly live without waiting to die.

Now, a few years down this road, I'll look back on what I said in the monumental, profound statement and smile at the fact of how naive I am. The fact that I'm not perfect pushes the road down, and it becomes difficult to see the sun sometimes.

But it doesn't stay there,
but I know I don't stay there,
but I know he's with me,
but I know he's in me,
but I know he will always be good--

but I know he makes the road rise.