Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Still thinking.

{I should have been a child of the 80's -- Intagram account @hmmwhattoputhere}

The graveyard holds bones.

My heart is for hollow souls.

Marrow sucked dry.

The enemy stands day and night accusing.

Accusing of short comings, large comings, failures.


Brokenness bound with pangs of hurt, of grief, of pain.

Sealing their crap with a smile.

Filling in the back pew, single file.

To hear words of work, of shame, of cost.

And it is all that I can do to refrain.

It's not what you do it's who you are.

And who you are may be broken.

And who you are may clearly be missing the mark.

But a broken spirit and broken and contrite heart are His favorite offerings.

And you may feel hopeless, with good reason.

If it was truly up to your works, you ought to.

Empty actions cannot fill a hollow soul.

But my hope is this: failure was foreseen, Jesus has always been the plan.

And you may just be broken, but he died for your shattered.

He saw your fractured and wants to heal.

Binding wounds, the cuts and lacerations of life, He wants to gift you with wholeness.

The restoration to hope.

Eviction of self.

Abandonment of works.

Surrender of the here, the now, the present.

To be.

And know securely that it is enough.

You are wanted, you are treasured, you are dear, you are chosen.

If I could, I would pull you close and wrap these truths around your soul.

To feel light.

To have joy.

To want to live for The One who died.

To know fullness.

To be satisfied.

Who am I that You would want to collect this dusty soul and brand me with Your message of hope, while my body is in process of returning to the ground that it came from?


--Thankful for dreams and friends and transparency. Thankful for hope and fall and faith. Communion and prayer and mostly silence. The past few weeks have carried with them these themes, and prospective opportunities for the future (exciting)--

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