The cross is a melody and a war cry that carries my weary soul through dark valleys, carved by rivers of living water. The Shepherd King joyfully beckons us to a banquet in plain sight. Figs and grapes spill across bread and golden olive oil, like a fountain. Rich red wine, full to overflowing is illuminated by steady flames, not flickering at the howl of the gale, rushing cold from the mouth of the valley.
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The feast extends arms into an open welcome -- a long wooden table, lovingly built with cedar grown from ashes and laden in fine white linen. Every reason for taste is before my eyes.
I gaze tepidly, at the splendor of King Jesus across the crag of rocks and the sky cracks open with a roar of thunder. The rain slicks the stones beneath my feet. He picks me up and wraps me in one of his finest robes.
It was enough.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6
Thinking about 🌾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Psalm 23:5
Luke 14:15-24
Isaiah 25 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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