Susan LaffertyLeaves crunch beneath my feet. Cold front moved in. So the air is chilled. Still.
Inside I’m scattered.
Numb.
Not sure how to process what’s happening. The unexpected hard.
“In everything give thanks”? How?
The crowds follow the fragrance. Looking for bread. Multiplying in His hands.
Fresh bread from the Master draws them. Like hot loaves from the oven.
But then. He speaks. Hard words. Strange to their ears. Threatening their loyalties.
Lord God, Holy One.
We open Your Word,
and hear
the shouts and whispers
of Your Presence.
