on self control and help from God Invisible
I have a problem with putting things in my mouth. Pens really get it from me, and it doesn’t matter if it’s your pen, your favorite one from your Christmas stocking back in 2008. I think and chew. I keep busy and distracted. Entire bags of chips or sour patch kids vanish, inappropriately, and I have to watch myself. I have to go after self-control like it’s cash money, like it’s the golden ticket.
And I need the ticket. I need access. I need throne-room presence,
and sometimes I cover like good girl but my spirit is drunk.
I need access.
not a tummy so full that I coast, not a tongue so used to tasting my own wants, not a mouth so used,
not a mouth so full that truth evades me, not ears so aimed at my own praise that I forget my lamb status.
My Shepherd, he speaks
He tells me things like what angels want to know
And Tells me things like what husbands say
And he tells me I am his own
He tells me what it is I Don’t have, like hunger and thirst, like the right to keep appearances, like the right to bear up alone
And he tells me what it is I do have, like inner invincibility,
That friendship with God is not unsteady; it’s like having a friend who is Cornerstone, one who was rejected more than I’ll ever ask to be, one who holds up with me.
God’s feet rest on the earth, and rather than leaning his throne back like a big recliner, the earth a soggy footstool, He littled himself and slipped inside it. He put himself down in a woman and came out into barn air. He came out in a million metaphors, and He holds up like an Ox.
He can carry the weight of the world, and yet
He tells me that I get to have burden with him, and he’ll walk down here with me in it.
As hard as it is, as hard as it is to find gratification in an invisible God, it is not even a glimpse of how good it is to find it.
to hear this poem, please visit incourage.me
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