Friday, September 13, 2013

Five Minute Friday: Mercy




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?


photo courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org

Today's prompt: Mercy

GO:

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.

STOP.



Five Minute Friday

4 comments:

  1. echoing your prayer
    Lord, we need you

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  2. I can't tell you how much I loved this short post. I, like you, find that when I come for a refill of mercy it's because I've become like a desert completely "parched". I often feel like I should know by now not to wonder off course, but maybe that's a lesson we'll spend our entire lives learning.

    Anyway, I love the way your heart shines through this post. Thank you.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Jenn. It's something that's been on my heart lately, as I often try to pour myself out when I literally have nothing left to give. Thank God His mercies are new every morning.

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