I want to tell what I have seen ... want to purge ... free myself of restless thought.
He says, "leave it here for now ... here is a place to put it ..." He stretches scarred hands reminding me that
He has been bruised for my transgressions.
I wrestle with my soul.
"But how will others know? Shouldn't I warn?" I plead.
"leave it here for now ... I will take care ... I will work ... you need to rest."
I pour and pour and pour my need to voice disappointment about them into His open hands and willing heart.
"trust Me" He whispers to my broken places ... I will make it better."
I find the rest on the scale, the conductor has directed a pause. I will speak when I see His baton begin to fly,
timing my words to the notes on the page, and the wave of His arm.
Together we will sing a beautiful song.
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Love this my friend. Your life is a beautiful symphony. Holding a degree in music, the implications of this post speak powerfully to me. He is still orchestrating His song over your life, and I'm so thankful to be sitting close enough to hear the melody. Music is always sweeter after a rest.
ReplyDeleteWaiting for my turn to play,
Joy