How You begin, Jesus, is beautiful. You know that I have indulged in ways that I shouldn’t, gone places and done things that I shouldn’t. But that is not where You begin. You start with Love. You jolt me awake with how You see me, with reminders of our history together, of how fierce You […]
Here You are in this beautiful storm of redemption. It’s fierce but You are kind, gently bringing me back to myself over and over, knowing all the pieces that You placed in me right back at the start, You know where they have been left and where to find them. You are the restorer of
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Jesus, Come sit with me. Here in the quiet. I need You and can barely find words, I’m just bruised and disillusioned. There’s been hurt around me these past days and I’ve felt too much of it. Just let me feel You with me because I need to feel You more than I feel all
Come dream with Me. Pick up all that has been long laid down and come dream with Me again. All that is inside you, all that has burned and ached during this bare and barren season, all that feels too impossible to bring to life, come bring it to Me. Bring it to this place
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My Love, I know how terror has tracked you, chased after you, laced its lingering fingers through every conversation and circumstance. Pulling in the undertow; a clawing tide, drawing you into it’s cold fist with every word and move, gripping, tightening. Sliding, shifting-shape, always in disguise, never in clear view. Skating quick on wafer ice,
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This place is like spaghetti. It’s messy and colourful and alive and knows how to mould around sharp edges, how to fall around all kinds of shapes and sizes, settling quietly around any awkward form. This place is all things bright and beautiful where the people are bold and bright and vibrant; loud laughter and
Jesus, You are stretching me to be like You, stretching me into Love. Your quiet voice asking me to stay soft, to breathe, not to accept the invitation into battle. To see beneath the surface; to see fear beneath the greed, sadness beneath the anger. To see the imago dei, the face of God all
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In the still morning light, You are there, waiting for me to wake, don’t want to miss a thing. Your gaze rests on me gently, unpressing, undemanding, biding to see if I’ll respond, notice, what I will ask from You. It would be easy to pass You by, move on without a glance, because these
My Love, You cannot fight the Winter. You cannot pull the Spring forward to brighten the days and spark the blooms until it is ready. I ordain the seasons and I time the days so that it all comes, it all comes rightly when things are ready to grow and blossom. When the dead
Dear One, I know that you are so aware of your flaws. These sharp flaws that you like to keep secret, quietly hidden, in the hope that others won’t notice; won’t see the failings, the selfishness, the impatience, the ugliness that you wish wasn’t there. Your children see some of it, they’re the closest, stung