Spilled

Sometimes isn't loving the God who saves enough?
Or is it everything?

Just breathing "I love You," in all sincerity, with all delight and meaning and truth.
It is my purpose for existing, and something so hastily overlooked again and again.

At times I feel like King David's soldiers, braving enemy lines in wild exertion for a glass of water, an offering to a King. Nobly risking for my King, expecting a medal of honor, and then watch in horror as all the work is spilled.

What a waste! I say

But it is spilled for God.

My words I type, I write, I work so hard to think up. The next most original idea, the greatest words, the flowery poetry that will send the God I write for into a whirl of praise.
They are spilled and no one may comment, no one may "like" the post or tell me they enjoyed it.
They are spilled, nothing but a puddle before Him.

But it is for Him.

 And God does not judge by human standards.
No, God sees what I write and sees it's for  Him and smiles at my meek attempts at pleasing Him.
And I do not see the outcome, but He knows and He sees and that is the air I breathe.

So I will continue to exert words, just words that are from a heart in love with Him.
In all insecurity, in all uncertainty, for the Living God!