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Wednesday, November 17, 2010

This Is *My* Cry

I lay it all before You because I am broken and I need Your grace, my Lord.  You know me in ways I can only try to imagine, even though I know what I picture falls eternally short of the reality.  You made me, placed each freckle and wrinkle; You numbered each hair and determined each breath that moves in and out of my lungs.  You called my name before my parents even know I was to be...and You continue to call me to Yourself even now.

I know Your love as well as I know my own thoughts and yet I sit. Uncertain and afraid.  Doubting and broken.  The chaos swells around me and beckons my attention and my worship, but as I begin to fall to my knees, defeated before the giant I see...my heart screams out, sensing the danger in losing sight of the One who stands just beyond the fray, seemingly hidden and unreachable, as the giant laughs at the fear in my eyes.

Father, I know I am faulty and stained.  The air is alive with the fragrance of my failure and the pain begs me to breathe it in...to digest it...to believe it.  But as I fight the urge to inhale, Your sweet name escapes my lips, whispered and desperate.  As I taste each sweet syllable, my ears burn from the holiness implied... demanded... desired in this moment, to help cover up what seems unfixable... unlovable... nonredeemable in the face of Your shining radiance.

The truth is that You are my reason for living...and yet I deny You with every other thought.  You are my purpose...and yet I sell You out for the tangible salvation that lies to my left and right.  You are my joy...and yet I forget you in the face of the pain that burns away all that I so desperately want to be.  You are my God...and yet I worship elsewhere more than I bow before Your throne.

Dearest Almighty, I pray You would overlook my shortcomings, override my insecurities and, oh please, even undo the mistakes I've made in my attempts to control what was never mine to own.  I lay my hands, my voice and even my life down in a broken heap knowing, with burning faith, that You can make it all a testament to Your own creativity...dedication...and salvation once again. 

Oh Lord, I come with my will, bound and sacrificed...my heart, broken and scarred...my eyes, tear-filled and open...and my voice, raised to echo out my desire. 
My cry, simple and desperate, is for You.
For I know that You are the glory.

Listening to Holly Starr's My Cry while looking up as always...


~*Michelle*~ said...

Praying for you, my friend....

Although we feel that our ways have turned us crimson.....He and His never-ending Love/Grace.....has turned us WHITE.


Karen said...

Bina, yes, He is our only glory, strength and comfort. Your words always touch chords in my heart. Blessings, friend.

K.B. said...

Needed this...

Jennifer said...

"and yet I sell you out for the tangible salvation..." This is lovely, Bina. And so true.


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