So I fix my eyes on Christ. The Author and Perfecter of my faith.
This is how we make it through these hard days. We mentally take the yoke off and hang it right up on the cross. We toss it up high and allow the ring to catch on the end sticking west. We take the heavy burden of getting it all right and we lob it up onto the finished place. He who began a good work in me. Not me who began a good work in me...
I love that about the cross. I think of the wood protruding east and west. Reminding us that our sins are removed as far as the east is from the west. I am sick of carrying these sins all around. I feel them all up in me. I carry the yoke of the past around my neck and I pant under the weight and strain. I feel my neck and shoulders and back all tight. My breath doesn't come sometimes and I wonder when the work will be completed in me. I am ready to reveal a mature soul seasoned for the Father's use, but I am still in the fire and it is His timing when the work will be completed. I am not the Author of this faith.
I know He will make beauty from these ashes, because He said so. I know that I can reason to feel His love and compassion toward me, even if I don't. I know that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it. And I know that what man intends for evil God intends for good. My heart doesn't seem to want to pay attention to those truths, though. I am thankful that the Author is working on that. He knows. He sees. I learn to trust.
This is how we make it through these hard days. We mentally take the yoke off and hang it right up on the cross. We toss it up high and allow the ring to catch on the end sticking west. We take the heavy burden of getting it all right and we lob it up onto the finished place. He who began a good work in me. Not me who began a good work in me...
I love that about the cross. I think of the wood protruding east and west. Reminding us that our sins are removed as far as the east is from the west. I am sick of carrying these sins all around. I feel them all up in me. I carry the yoke of the past around my neck and I pant under the weight and strain. I feel my neck and shoulders and back all tight. My breath doesn't come sometimes and I wonder when the work will be completed in me. I am ready to reveal a mature soul seasoned for the Father's use, but I am still in the fire and it is His timing when the work will be completed. I am not the Author of this faith.
I know He will make beauty from these ashes, because He said so. I know that I can reason to feel His love and compassion toward me, even if I don't. I know that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it. And I know that what man intends for evil God intends for good. My heart doesn't seem to want to pay attention to those truths, though. I am thankful that the Author is working on that. He knows. He sees. I learn to trust.
