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.
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 🌾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Isaiah 25 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀