“Gratitude is riches. Complaint is poverty.”
With that, Peter, full of the Holy Spirit, let loose: “Rulers and leaders of the people, if we have been brought to trial today for helping a sick man, put under investigation regarding this healing, I’ll be completely frank with you—we have nothing to hide. By the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the One you killed on a cross, the One God raised from the dead, by means of his name this man stands before you healthy and whole. Jesus is ‘the stone you masons threw out, which is now the cornerstone.’ Salvation comes no other way; no other name has been or will be given to us by which we can be saved, only this one.”
~ Acts 4:8-12
We see threads, a damage in a favorite sweater, a tear at the knee, an unraveling… We bring our broken clothing to a master knitter, a tailor, one who knows garments like no other. That expert touches the cloth, tenderly, looks with a loving eye, pronounces the way to repair.
Of course we are those broken garments, loose threads a-hanging. The master weaver sees the garment whole, and proceeds. Knows what must be added, what must be taken away, and just how to artfully patch the impossible.
The Holy Spirit holds it all together.
(Just love this…old commercial…the fabric of our lives.)
Lord, you hold me together, no matter what I shred. You take those tattered ends
and make something beautiful. Praise Your Holy Name
Because of Him,
“Fun has sacred dimensions.”
~ Adriana Diaz
Investigate my life, O God,
find out everything about me;
Cross-examine and test me,
get a clear picture of what I’m about;
See for yourself whether I’ve done anything wrong—
then guide me on the road to eternal life.
You blew into the room,
The unlidded daggers bore the word “Liar.”
The accusation not well researched,
not warranted. Explanation not received.
Your eyes perforated my soul,
released the dam of my tears.
Retreating to the basement
a shoulder found, soaked,
soaked, soaked. Sobs wracking,
breath in short supply.
Retreat to a couch and some comfort.
Laid so low.
Molasses in January had nothing on me.
Public humiliation your strong suit
I provided evidence,
your reluctant contrition
was never enough.
Like a shard from the ice queen’s
core, splintering and lodging,
you left me cold. You leave me still.
It must be lonely being made of ice.
Come to the waters,
come let me show you,
The way that He loves
The way that He knows you.
Let go your frosty robe.
Allow your troubled heart to let go.
Let go of the myriad of icy splinters.
right next to mine.
You are forgiven.
fasten on to a slight and—good-bye, friend!