made of grace

Father in Heaven,
would you carve out a closet in me, and cause me by your grace to pray in it. would you push past my defensive stance, crush my fear, and love me, forgive me, cause me to be broken… will you heal me, Lord? i push you away just because i’m tired of being broken. how could i have resisted your grace all day yesterday? i need you God, every day.

i say so many words. words that conceal me, words that obscure, words that create fantasy, a hiding place and not a closet of prayer. right now, if only for a fleeting moment, i come and bring all that i know how to bring, and i submit myself to the grace of God. so yes, it is grace which is the measuring unit of my life. i cannot estimate anything by my own feelings (manipulat-able, sometimes distorted). i cannot measure by outside measuring methods (corrupted by human greed and desires for fame and numbing). i must measure by grace- but how?

funny enough, this takes an honesty that only grace can allow. to present my faults unedited, to stand in the light without making excuses, to peel back the veneer of self-effort or finger-pointing… facing the grace of God, takes the grace of God. for without grace, i stand in the false, punishing light of the accuser. i stand in the soft pink light of my own fearful self-flattery. i stand in the cold, extracting shadows of others’ needs and wants… only perfect grace measures truly: both my total need, and God’s total provision through Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection. the cross i carry each day is not made from intellectual striving, emotional awareness, social skills, responsible stewardship or moral strength. this cross is a spiritual thing, made of grace…

FRIENDS: this blue morning, my tongue is being touched with a rich, spicy oil, and its warmth fills my body. i know it is love. i know i must pray.

first, i pray that our Father would grace each of your mornings with love- un-asked for, love… this love like oil. i ask for grace to warm you inside, and bring the light of truth, and arrest your mornings with remembrance.

WE LIVE BECAUSE HE LIVES.

here, i die, and here, i rise. as i pray for you, and lift you up, i cannot see you clearly, or your needs, but i have full confidence in our Lord’s ability to see, and fully take care of, each of you, and each need. i know in a vague sense, that there is a strong need for provision, and to feel the hollow of His Hand beneath your feet. i know, that there are distracting, fatiguing physical pains which linger and assault your faith. i know that there are boring daily routines out there, seemingly tapping away at the storehouse of Life that God has given. but do not worry. do not be afraid. our God has reminded me this morning, that his grace is all we need. Grace will measure love to us justly, in the deep shadow of the cross of Jesus Christ.

can’t you feel the whispering clothes, the coolness of the empty grave? can’t you but help to smile at the victory that grace works? can you smell the empty tomb, can you taste the oil of love? i have prayed that our Father would help each of us to know his grace today.