There are days when all we know bends under the weight of what is, and we buckle the knees and bow down to circumstances.
Words drown out "the Word," and we no longer hear what He says about us. Two steps back from the one that made everything new, and we stumble into the pit without the energy to claw our way out. Even the weather conspires against us, skies black with the promise of drought-breaking rain that refuses to fall.
We take the measure of ourselves against what others are accomplishing for Him and pronounce ourselves lacking. It renders us immobile.
And He waits.
Waits for us to turn the inward gaze upward, reminding us, in gentle whispers, of this love that makes no lists and doesn't keep score. Mercy beckons, with blood poured out, blotting out shame and regret. Grace extends a strong hand, lifting us to our feet.
We take another step along the journey, and the Spirit rains down.