He's trying to tell me something.
because as i opened my laptop and began to read, soak myself in Lion's song and sister's words, i began to sense a pattern. again, a pull.
because rain wrote of truth in the thin places, of memorials of the sacred moments. and sarah wrote of love up to the dark, of life written out and remembered in Glory.
and i felt my soul crumble, not in the way of broken stones and shattered dreams. but in the way, the way you only understand if you've felt it before.
that crumbling of release and refreshment that comes when walls of fear and shame come tumbling down and all you can see is the sun and Son, both shining down on your face, but One brighter than the other.
sacred spaces worth remembering etched in ancient lines across palm,
and did you know that remembrance is synonymous with love?
love-marked space says
something special is here,
something mysterious
and worthy
and holy.
:: rain: lullaby for light ::
and oh, how those words pounded tribal of brave to me.
because memorials frighten me, sometimes. i'm apt to step into His shoes, into that place of writing in the dirt, scribbling hard with bleeding fingertips of every shame and every broken moment. somehow, i feel i must remember my shame, remember why i am unworthy.
and then come sandal-clad feet, pierced and bleeding. and they are not the silent feet that some focus upon...
no, these are the pounding Feet that stood on the neck of Death and ground him to powder at the base of the Cross. they belong to the Gentlest Warrior who holds Hands high and cries in Lion's roar
Mine.
and He destroys my memorial to shame. because He did not die so i would remain. oh, He died that i would rise with Him. and together we gather stones with carvings strange and markings still unfamiliar.
grace.
forgiven. light.
eternity. brave. warrioress.
Mine.
and on this altar, i burn my rags and stand scarred and unashamed beside my memorial. i am barefoot, in the sacred place.
He and i both.
