threaded

Insistent Prayer

Tell me it will be okay. I bury my face in kind cotton threads. Can I know this isn’t the end? Is this just a silly, mean wrinkle? Will I enter into the wildness of life lived again?

I strain against the pulsing pain. Against the wracking fear. I strain against the damning evidence. I ask—let me see beyond the seen.

No matter how my heart betrays me, I know within my soul, you are The Great One. I choose to remember your many names, all promises and goodness. You have gone before and fought. You have decided the victory.

Why you created me for this moment and time, I don’t know. The earth is burning. And we all are in desperate need. What can I offer?

In the midst of my brokenness, let me be your faithful oracle. Bring life out of the charred remains.

“They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:3b – 4

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