Collaging words about grace.
But truth.
Coming first.
Showing up.
Whether I like it or not.
And putting up the mirror.
To my soul. To my futile attempts.
At being something good.
The living well.
And what that mirror tells me.
This truth.
Well. Here it is.
That I am deeply flawed.
Unfixable.
Irreparably damaged.
Beyond repair. It's called sin.
And I don't like it.
But it is the truth.
And this world full of.
Broken. Miserable.
Shocking heartbreak.
Disappointment. Decay.
And we blame God.
For. Well. Everything.
And then. On occasion.
Watching transfixed. Something beautiful.
Stirring my soul. Heart full.
But not for long.
Because the things of life destroy.
And disappointment runs deep.
And I can't fix it.
Because it is I who is broken.
And sin has marred everything good.
And continues to destroy.
And myself.
Clinging to shreds of self-worth.
Hanging on for dear life.
This ride. Life.
Leaving me exhausted. Weary.
In my attempts to be happy.
When all along.
I've been thrown a life line.
Holy God came down to rescue.
And when we see it is our ugly.
Having pierced the flesh.
And He hung. For hours.
And the heavens convulsed.
And the day stood still.
In shock.
The enormity of this rescue.
I hang my head.
For I cannot imagine.
What He suffered. Endured.
On that tree.
This Jesus. Holy God.
Laying aside glory.
So we can live free.
And my deeply flawed covered.
By His sacrifice.
Dying. And then living again.
Spilling grace all over our lives.
And rolling around in it.
Like a cat in the sunshine.
This grace so good.
But never to forget.
The price.