Fearless Daughter

I am fearless because of the gift of Christ, who conquered sin and defeated death upon the cross. Deuteronomy 31:6 "Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you." I am a daughter because of Psalm 68:5 "Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation."

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Rest

I woke up this morning earlier than I expected, with a fog of uncertainty around me. There is no greater gift than the presence of God. To be aware of it when little things uncover rotted soil, where little can grow and what can take seed is soon crippled and withered by light. 

God is good to uncover rotten soil. His presence reveals just how wonderful, full of life, full of air, His love is. The tilling, the waiting, the planting, the waiting. All of it speaks to how good God is, how sovereign He is, mercy boundless, yet mercy might come in the form of drought, to expose the rot. Rain, that it might seep into the soil and quench a thirsty land. 
Let it be. 
Thirst is a feeling of want, a desire to be satisfied. 
Grace to welcome desire, thirst, and longing, and grace to understand that you alone satisfy. 
Let it mean more to me than ever before. 

Monday, January 9, 2017

Light

Dispelling darkness, light has a powerful effect on the unknown. There is darkness in not knowing. Sin lurks, but there is also God there, allowing the darkness to shake us, move us onward to warmth, light, where we cannot see what is beneath us, yet by His grace we move toward His life, trusting by grace, believing by faith that these seemingly tiny, slowly plodding steps are bringing us deeper into the Father's heart. How deep is your love toward us. How unfathomable, none can comprehend.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Forward

forward marching
chasing perfection
a different word that fills this space, feeling thirsty by His grace
for acceptance, love, faith that grounds
faith in seeds, I hear no sound
growing silently in the windy plains
isolation has found me here
staring at dirt with manicured hands
out dang spot! but it will not leave
apart from Christ's blood dropping on these
underserved hands who can create no growth
only wreckage,
slowly blinking, breathing weakly
a heart so feebly facing resistance
flesh so strongly craves perfection.
But in the silence there is hunger
desire draws my eyes up yonder
to an eternal rest
I can feel toward me
with blood stained hands by grace through faith I cling to thee.