Rather than be filled with fear, I want to hide in the cleft of the Rock, I want to take shelter beneath His wings, I want to run to Him to make Him my strong tower, my fortress. How do I do that?
See, suffering for me is not a matter of fairness, but rather an honor. God has chosen me for the difficult mission. The dangerous one. The one with great glory and reward and joy at the end. (Even though I want all glory to go to Him because He deserves it!) "For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison." (2 Corinthians 4:17)
The pen really is mightier than the sword. At least, it is for me. But when I was young, before I had learned my letters or read a word...it was music.
Another poem about that one word.
25 days and 8 hours. That is the amount of time that has passed since my last post. I've responded to a few comments, liked a few posts, but the words have dried up at the tips of my fingers like the petals of a flower in the desert.