The graciousness of our Lord overwhelms me. My plans, my thoughts, my abilities are so trivial, but Christ in His great majesty speaks into them and begets life. I sink under the weight of my failures. He rises and I fall. Oh, but the grace that catches me. The divine comfort of my Saviour is like a peace no man can give words for. The magnitude is breathtaking.
Speak through me, Abba. Speak to me, Abba.
He's still here. Even when I am sure that I have done something to shew Him away, He's still here. The ebb and flow of His mercy is perfect. He is perfect and he reminds me that His desire is to be great in my weakness. I ask, like Dostoevsky, that I may be worthy of my sufferings. May I revel in the glory of all He has done. May my story point you home.
Cry out to Jesus.
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