But I cannot keep You out--You who will not let me alone. Those wizened eyes pierce through the canopy of dusk-laden clouds into my darkened passages and mourning chambers.
Ah, You want more than to see my filth; You want me to put it on display. So be it. Light the candles! Here it is--festering and newly opened wounds, diseases of body and of mind, all my inadequacies and failures and sin piled in a jumbled heap. 'Tis a vile mess, I know. And it's all too heavy to carry about and hide away, so I leave it here.
You offer a trade--my wounds for binding and the balm of Gilead; my disease for health in all my being; my inadequacy for all sufficiency, my failures for your success, sin for glory. You clean it up and carry it off. In my brokenness and disrepair, You offer more than to patch me up.You invite me to become other--like You.
Thank you for my crumbly bits which send me looking for Real Strength. Thank you for must and mold that I might welcome Fresh Breath and Sunlight. Your offer is both frightening and thrilling, but I will accept, Great Giver. Not because of your open hands but because you are beautiful and perfect in your otherness. I will have You before merciful exchange.
For You I will open the gate though the enemy and his bloodhounds run at your heels. Come in, My King. Grace this citadel with your glorious face. May your fragrance waft through these halls. Both castle and key are yours forevermore.
4/4/14
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