Engine turned off.
Vehicle of the soul, now coasting.
Heart bradying down.
Lips sealing shut.
Mind releasing the curtain for the final time tonight.
It is now, in the quiet, that I seek You.
Everything inside of me wishes to rush in.
To draw close.
To be held.
Loudly, I have come to find You.
But tonight, I remember.
You are tangible in the quiet.
Sitting on the pew, mostly towards the front, I am facing the Holy Place.
Between me is the wood, the stake, the cross.
Reconciled with my lament.
Aware of who I really am.
I will come boldly to the cross.
The symbol of my life, the marker of my hope, the wood that took the brute of the stones I had to throw.
The body that was mishandled, that my healing might spring forth.
I come boldly.
For I am shamelessly desperate for You.
Drown me in the blood, cover me in the Red, that I might move forward anew.
Anoint me with the Holy Oil of Your presence, that I might quietly move in.
Stepping forward, moving on, I come into Your Holy Place.
And I enter in to find that You have already made Your home in me.
You are my portion, and I will forever be satisfied here, with Your presence.
Unc-tion: the [act] of anointing someone with oil.
My favorite word from this week.