Swinging Doors

You cannot love what you refuse to know. We cannot make a place for people. How damn prideful must one be to assume we ourselves have a place in which to “make room” anyway. I pray my heart stay broken to pieces forever, that I never begin to believe I have arrived somewhere different than you. Hard day to be a church girl…….. those doors get heavier and heavier to swing. Some days they seem hung on their hinge in order that they swing closed, better than they swing open. I lay my heart in His hands and pray for forgiveness and the crushing of my hardened heart.

Speaking of Him…… He knew how to do this perfectly. Oh that I can know Him well and keep my eyes fixed on Him, ever more increasingly, so that I may also resist the ignorant tide that is coursing with trinkets and symbols and empty words that claim His name. Empty, hollow Gods have no eyes, no heart, no power.

He looked for one righteous and could not find even one. Not even one. Every believer’s ¬†head can be bowed low in humbled anguish for our own place in this world. So much so, that I can scarcely notice your place or how much ground you’ve been given on which to stand. Prideful, arrogant, selfish. Not ¬† exactly righteous qualities – so drop the stone. He never even picked one up, but He could have, the only One qualified to do so.

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