The flavourless piece of cracker dissolves in my mouth as I examine my heart. I drink that which represents His sacrifice for me and my eyes glaze. I've been in this place of brokenness all weekend. Having just returned from the Women of Faith Conference the night before, I savour this moment with renewed passion.
Thousands of women sang, "Blessed Be the Name of the Lord" and I had wept as we neared the lines,
Could I choose to bless Him and give thanks in all circumstances? The speakers who poured their hearts out and exposed their deepest and darkest places so that we might learn from them, chose to say, "blessed be the name..." How could they do it? Because they had encountered His great love.
I push the sweetness of the grape juice to the back of my mouth. This love is what I'm tasting: "But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:5) Pastor reads the scriptures and he pauses partway, removes his glasses and wipes his tears. We are all broken. My eyes well up again. I survey this congregation of wounded people. Some rush toward the altar for prayer, others linger long and then hesitantly move forward, still others, pray from their seats, physically unable to go. But we all need His touch. His sacrifice and submission to the Father's will made it possible for us to kneel at the altar and receive restoration. Blessed be the name of the Lord, for by His stripes, we are healed.
1 comment:
Only tears and a lump, deep within my throat....thank you, Heather, for once again drawing me back to GOD.
I love you, Mom xo
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