Saturday, April 30, 2011
A daughter's burried plea.
I may or may not have just written this in my journal...
"I feel like writing in pencil today. It reflects the current state of my life.
Quiet, meek, unsure.
Write it in pencil and surely you can erase your transgressions with little attention drawn to the large catastrophes.
Sometimes I exaggerate, most times I think too much.
Will I ever be able to untangle and neatly wind up the emotions that I have freely spent?
Stinkin emotions; so conflicting. Stinkin heart; why must you be so misleading, but fun? Damn head; you serve your purpose, but can be ruthlessly callous at times.
What is this struggle I find myself in? This innate conflict that separates, divides?
Surely I long for harmony; for unity and peace.
Who will be the victor? Which voice will be triumphant?
Will it be a confident defeat with a standing O? Or will it forever demand a recount?
Does it even matter in the end?
Why must I be so torn?
I long for life, strive for righteousness, and find myself wading through the feces of this world.
Yet, this is my hope: Jesus, my Most High Priest, made a way for me.
These feet are anointed with His MOST HOLY Spirit.
In a beautiful exchange, He brings light into my perpetual darkness, clarity in the midst of my confusion, and hope in my hopeless hang ups.
He bridged the great divide between the daughter with dirty feet and opens arms, and her Father, longing and holy.
No longer distant, this life of mine has been turned upside down; feet scrubbed clean by The Holy One.
Clothed in a robe of righteousness, who I am that I may partake in this wedding feast?
Who am I that I may be seated at The Table?
Praise be to Jesus, the Saviour of sinners."