A friend prayed at my beloved Young Adults Group last night and his Words to Him sparked the flight of my pen in a room full of people, randomly, irresistably, for the first time in a long time:
Crack open this shriveled rock
The one that pumps blood into the veins wire worked around this skeleton
and flood me.
Flood me full of You so I drown from the inside,
and streams flow trickling, gushing, now surging.
Crashing waves into waves in the steps I take in lovely union with You, my best friend.
Let the waters of knowing You nourish pastures where they will come
and taste and see and drink freely of the love You splattered and spilled all over my life
though these blind eyes do not see it in it's entire splendor.
Like a child still,
grasping frenziedly for truth in this 20-year-old body
and still You died for this weary heart.
Because who am I to tell You when to nourish this broken body with Word everlasting and delightful?
To simply declare I am not in the mood for what I was made for?
I resist the love I know will quench this drought, ignite me forevermore.
My feeble pen scratches,
my weak thinking that doesn't even hold a candle.
So again, I say, let the flood ensue.
It's the violent craving of my spirit,
It's the painful longing I carry until You come
and then it's evaporated, separated, and all I can do is celebrate it.
Praise to the inkling to whip the wrist into letters for You!
For pen to glide!
and Your Spirit saves me from this drought once more!
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