It's Friday. Where hundreds of writers come together every week over at the lovely Lisa-Jo Baker's blog to spend five minutes writing about one thing. One word. No hyper-editing. No getting in your own way. Just writing, flat out. The most important rule: encourage the writer who linked up before you. Won't you join us?
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Today's prompt: Mercy
So often when I come before God, my basin is not just empty. It is parched. Dry and cracked from weathering the elements, the dry, hot sun. Completely drained. And still he has mercy on me. He fills me up. He gently reminds me, yet another time, that if I want to change the world around me and be a light in the dark I must start with Him. I must start on my knees.
He tells me to make one move. I look down at my pedometer and realize I have made twenty. I have somehow wandered off course, have no idea where I am or how I got there. I am empty and hurting, feeling as though I've failed yet again.
His grace is too much for me to comprehend. And yet it is my reason for breathing and waking and rising and going forth into each day. It is the reason I can watch the 6:00 news and not spend the rest of the night lying awake in fear. It is everything, and yet its mystery is impenetrable.
He reveals little glimpses of it, day by day. In my children's unexpected hug. In the the coolness of the morning that gives me goosebumps as we walk to the bus stop.
When I wander outside of the mercy, the grace, instead of His thoughts becoming my thoughts, I resort to my own wandering ways.
God, help me to abide in you. Each second of each day. Humble me. May your rain penetrate me deep and produce glory to glory.