Lost in the shuffle of everyday life. Buried in the bustling world. Invisible to most everyone around.
God sees these people.
Despised by society. Judged by the wealthy and high-class. Shunned by most everyone around.
God loves these people.
Diseased and dirty. Left to beg on a mat beside the road. Ignored and left by most everyone around.
God comes to these people.
Beaten and bruised. Defeated by the chains that cannot be broken. A lost cause to most everyone around.
God rescues these people.
God sees these people. God loves these people. God comes to these people. God rescues these people.
The humble and broken are the chosen. God redeems these people. God lavishes compassion and grace on these people. God heals these people. God uses these people.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."-Matthew 5:3
"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth."-Matthew 5:5
Monday, September 13, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Buried Feeling
Black, raging waters stretch on for miles and miles around you. Waves engulf you like a meaningless, floating piece of driftwood. Fighting to keep your head above water, arms trying to get somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere but here.
Winds howl. Rain pelts against soft skin. Drenched clothes droop miserably. This empty country road never felt more foreign. Barren fields stretch from horizon-to-horizon. Freshly-sown seeds uncovered by the heavy drops of rain drown and wash away. Months of hard work gone in a flash. You would do anything for a warm towel. But the security of warmth never seemed so far away.
They close in on you. Caught in a rundown between third base and home, the opposition methodically narrows the space you have between them. Slamming on the brakes, you dart back towards third, spin and head back to home. Stuck in the middle with no where to go. Distance shrinks. No place to escape.
Sin piles up. The weight of everyday's struggle weighs you down. Falling to your knees, banging clenched fists into the hard concrete of a cold, desolate room. Lonely and lost, tears splash into the dust-coated floor of a place untouched by light in years.
Hope dries up. Desperation sets in. Longing for a taste of something sweet. Gasping for fresh air--something new. The embrace of surrender wraps around weary shoulders. The burdens--carried so long, too long--lifted. Give up.
Grace wipes away deep stains.
Truth shields tired travelers.
Love repairs shattered hearts.
"The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still."--Exodus 14:14
Winds howl. Rain pelts against soft skin. Drenched clothes droop miserably. This empty country road never felt more foreign. Barren fields stretch from horizon-to-horizon. Freshly-sown seeds uncovered by the heavy drops of rain drown and wash away. Months of hard work gone in a flash. You would do anything for a warm towel. But the security of warmth never seemed so far away.
They close in on you. Caught in a rundown between third base and home, the opposition methodically narrows the space you have between them. Slamming on the brakes, you dart back towards third, spin and head back to home. Stuck in the middle with no where to go. Distance shrinks. No place to escape.
Sin piles up. The weight of everyday's struggle weighs you down. Falling to your knees, banging clenched fists into the hard concrete of a cold, desolate room. Lonely and lost, tears splash into the dust-coated floor of a place untouched by light in years.
Hope dries up. Desperation sets in. Longing for a taste of something sweet. Gasping for fresh air--something new. The embrace of surrender wraps around weary shoulders. The burdens--carried so long, too long--lifted. Give up.
Grace wipes away deep stains.
Truth shields tired travelers.
Love repairs shattered hearts.
"The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still."--Exodus 14:14
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)