What a love so unimaginable that my king would take the very nails that were used to stretch out his arms and be nailed on a cross to die a terrible, tragic death... and then use them three days later to build a mansion for you an I in His eternal kingdom.
My glorious carpenter. My gracious father, the builder of my life... you hold together everything in the universe by a crown of painful thorns and rough unfinished wood. Holding the hammer of grace in your bloodied palm, letting the crimson red stain every room in our hearts.
Forgive me when I knock and do not wait for Your answer. Ever ringing the doorbell with impatience only during my own conveniences. Sweeping dust under the rugs when I want to make a good impression, but piles of good intentions are left in the sink for another day.
I could never hire a housekeeper or wish away the clutter. This run down vessel is barely useful on my best days. But your kindness leaves my room spotless with your sacrifice. For this, I am grateful. For this I ask that you would stay and make my heart your home.
2 comments:
Hello Charisma, This was beautiful. Really. I would love to read more of what you have...we should share our work sometime. How are you? and just cause I am a girl....is there anything that is going on with you and your friend? just curious. love you, Trish
in a very late response to Trish, yes there is something going on with you and your 'friend'! i adore your heart so much, Charisma, and the fruit brought forth in the form of lovely prayers like this.
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