I begin a day sure to be holy. For God is near. He always is, to those whose hearts are smashed up like some ripe melon busted upon the ground, splattered and messy. The one where you feel like you can't breathe and sleep has been chased away and the food just won't go down. That broken heart, that feels wrung out like some dirty rag hung upon the line, exposed and tattered.
In this wrecked world where a daughter's body can be battered and worn until it fades away as if it was a curtain hung too long in the sun, I am glimpsing holy.
As I hover around those weakened limbs, I want her to know that I am there. I want to draw closer, to comfort, to reassure.
In a fallen world that splintered wide with one enticing bite, it is the broken heart that God chooses to hover over, to draw close to.
As I sense the sweet aroma of His grace, I am reassured.
This day will be holy.
For. God. Is. Near.
No comments:
Post a Comment