A strange mood has me in its grip.
Tomorrow I celebrate 39 years as a follower of Christ. I have been reminded all day of His grace and mercy. I have seen the handiwork of the Father in earth and water and sky. I watched the clouds assume the shapes of dreaming. They changed style and form continually…and yet remained.
I prayed this prayer today:
Thankful for the gift of this beautiful day. But even on these days, there are people who are hurting and empty. Lonely even in the midst of family and friends. My prayer today is for comfort and peace and courage to face every moment. Where love lives there is Grace…
I am thankful for Love and Grace. I am intimately familiar with the taste of mercy, and the aroma of grace is sweet.
Tonight I feel so totally undeserving of any of it. At. All. I remember my every fall and failure and wounding and hurt and mistake.
I know Christ has paid for every one.
Yet here I sit, feeling the weight of loneliness and the weight of all my yesterdays. Knowing there are those this very night who feel this pain in their hearts. Lost or found, this ache finds us all.
There are some believers who wear their Redemption like a shield. A badge of honor that authorizes judgement. I know this all too well. I was a Deputy Pharisee before my fall. The stink of my self righteousness failed to mask the scent of bitterness and hatred and pride.
Almost forty years into the journey, I am still unlearning so much crap. There has been a stripping away of the trappings of religion, and that process is not without its own pain.
I always believed, that by now, I’d have more of this figured out. But I’ve learned that most of what I know is just crap when love has left the building.
It’s late. The time springs forward tonight, and it’s been a long day.
So I’ll pray this:
God help us…the fallen, the broken, the lonely, and every one of us still struggling. Heal hearts, bind wounds, and dry tears. Holy Spirit, give strength to endure, and uncover the courage to face fear.
And remind us to see the Glory all around.