Jars filled with water. Outwardly common. Inwardly plain.
Others know what we’re made of. See the flaws. Rough edges. They remember the ordinary ways we walk and talk.
But we surrender. To the One who receives this offering.
Such as it is.
Jars filled with water. Outwardly common. Inwardly plain.
Others know what we’re made of. See the flaws. Rough edges. They remember the ordinary ways we walk and talk.
But we surrender. To the One who receives this offering.
Such as it is.
In the realm of heart and soul,
You ask for all.
Hands open,
I give the
fragmented,
flawed,
incomplete all
that I know.
You receive.
Tenderly. Welcoming
broken parts,
scattered pieces
of a repentant,
believing
heart.
You save the sin-sick soul.
2020. And the pandemic spreads to the ends of the earth. We wait. And walk in constant change. Cancellations. Upheaval.
Those serving around the world are affected. Some caught in months of lockdown. Stopped at borders. Forced to leave. Or forced to stay in their home countries.
At times it feels overwhelming. As we grieve unexpected losses.
In the middle of it all, I’m drawn back to a familiar psalm of deliverance. Psalm 18. Detailing the sure and powerful rescue by the Almighty.
This time I read the first verse. Stop. And can’t move past it.
I’m compelled in that moment. To reach beyond grief. And dwell on the deep, deep love of my King. Lover of my soul.