That Spiritual twine which tethers me to His body has you on my mind, family in Christ. The corners of world separate by physical address but not so, reaching across aisles, miles and distance be found in Him.
I am nothing more than a poured out offering longing for a Glory not my own. And pain ripples the line of my heart, the reverberations of so many others.
His heart for His people bruised by the world, bruise my thoughts.
I don't want dullness that slumbering beast. So I let yours be mine and grope for His heart and I want to cry "My God, my God, speak to your people. Heal their wounds." But seasons endure their allotted time before giving way to cycle the next.
I've known how healing comes, but only after the wound. So I wait for the bandage of mercy and grace, His Love to balm the gap. Stretching the fathom, all I have is Holy Spirit and His prayer to minister the hearts there.
Deeper go roots stressed by the elements, the tree established by His waters. I want nothing of stunting growth by fleshy words my own or the sting of flaming tongues, the power to scorch fruit. Pierced for Beloved Bride aches this heart and it's all I want to know.
The address postmarked in each of His by eternity's linking Spirit, places you near me. For I am but a selfish creature born first in flesh but have entered the Spiritual womb rebirthed spirit by Spirit. Natural blood no longer binds where together we're bond by Blood. This is where He pulsates pain, beating it from above.
My heart full and at times heavy for His beloved Bride. Sensing the rippled waves of change those disturbed waters creased by hard-surfaced rocks. Yet Hope eternal fills the bank of rocky shores and I only a clay mold cheering you on.
Disdain would cast off sentiment, a talk of Love and mush and pain, driving the callous away. Or embarrassed by extravagance of a Betrothed and turn away shy but secretly wanting more. I've known them well for I lived them many years long, though a time ago. But deeper than courses the vein, His tenderness toward you is true. And it's high and deep and mushy more than can be conveyed here.
Thoughts rippled like the waters stirred by His Hand is all I have to give. And Him in you and this clay cheering you onward the prize, Love's Letter to the full which no thinly veiled lines of page impart, only that Comforter who tethers to Christ.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows." 2 Corinthians 1:3-5
what's invisible is visible in all of creation and this is where I speak of the supernatural among the natural. (Psalm 19:1-4, Colossians 1:15-16, Romans 1:20)
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Let's share. Because of time-management, most days I don't reply to comments. But every precious one feels like we're at the table chatting. Sometimes they're read in the oddest of places, via my phone. And if you blog, I can assure you, I looked you up and lurked your words.