I love morning light; how it filters through the window, touching faux bamboo leaves, somehow adding life where there was none, bringing depth to the slightly crooked lampshade. I can’t say I understand it, but I feel something when I gaze at the light and shadow. Funny how a little thing like sunlight…a touch of God perhaps…can make an otherwise insignificant corner of the room captivating.
A rattle, a racket, a whoosh, and a whirr, then deafening silence right after the stir.
Oh my son, lay down your head
I’ll watch over you;
Protect you from the lions and the wolves.
And when you rise I’ll be here still to listen to your dreams.
Oh my son, do not despair,
I will never leave;
Through the pain I’ll lead you by the hand,
And one day soon you’ll see my face and forever live in peace.
Hold my bleeding heart and keep it beating
Sometimes I can’t tell if I am breathing
These groanings in my chest, they are greedy
But really it’s just you that I’m needing
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.
Romans 8:22-23
Everybody’s broken and I’m no different.
I feel unworthy, deficient.
The great lie in my heart: I’ve gotta be perfect to serve.
Truth is the best of us are really just the worst of us.
I face addictions too, you know, I face temptations just like you. I’m insecure, afraid, just trying to make it to the next day.
The true test of faith is what you do with shame; do you let it sit and simmer, or do you give yourself some grace?
I wish life were easier, but it only gets harder.
I hope I can learn to see beauty in pain, oh, I just can’t wait til I can dance in the rain.
i feel lost, i feel hopeless, i feel broken, even though i know deep down
that i’m chosen. even still, in my heart, i am frozen.
you tell me not to fight, that you’ve spoken. all these lies hold no weight, for
you have risen. all my chains are on the ground, they have fallen!
look, look, look where i am and where i started! redemption’s story being told
though i’ve parted.
“return to me,” says the Lord, “return to me.”
A gentle rain upon my face…
that is grace.
A vicious downpour that leaves no trace…
that is grace.
Truly,
every breath, every step, every touch, every taste,
every single little thing…
is GRACE
“Abounding sin is the terror of the world, but abounding grace is the hope of mankind.” -A. W. Tozer
The mountains rise
Above telephone wire
Where ravens perch
Before flying higher
I set my gaze way up there
And wish that I were above it
It must be so majestic
To stand upon the summit
But I am down here
A nothing of nothings
I want nothing more
Than to rise above something
Yet It’s comforting to know
Yes even to believe
That the one who created the mountains
cares for me
The mountains rise
Above telephone wire
And I am content
To remain and admire
Does the river ever stop flowing?
Does the sun ever stop shining?
Does the wind ever stop blowing?
And does God ever stop loving?
The room was dark, save a dying candle which was set upon the table beside the bed, where a small body lay. Peace.
The flickering light played gently on the wall that the bed was nudged up against and if you let your eyes close halfway and allowed a teardrop to blur your vision, the ghostly shapes would become a sailor on a sailboat, waving to his lady who stands on the dock, crying softly, already mourning the distance between them. Sorrow.
The boy was not the only one in the room; there his mother sat beside his bed, weeping bitterly into her hands, no one there to comfort her, for the boy was gone, a leaf blown away from a tree by the gentle wind. Oh the gentle wind. Loneliness.
And with a final spark, the candle’s flame went out, leaving the room in blackness, the only sounds that of the mother’s sobs. Spent.
Simply Put Stories 