Sometimes I think this blog is my strangled, wanting worship, my broken hallelujah.
We’ve been studying Beth Moore’s Esther at church Wednesday nights. It’s our third week and those of you who’ve done the study can reference the third week’s topic to know what’s been breaking my heart.
I just need some good words on redemption. And healing came through our study Sunday mornings of the Bible, yesterday on Psalm 22, a lament of David’s that curiously is a perfect picture of Jesus’s sacrifice for us on the cross.
Sometimes we just look at ourselves too often. Sometimes we look at others just as often. And instead we forget to look at Jesus, to forget the sorry mess at our feet and leave it as His where He can do something with it beyond our own sorry and singular ability to make it worse.
And that’s where I’m at: learning to leave it in the holy hands that can redeem it, rather than carrying it, reliving it, and keeping it alive when it will tear me to pieces if I do.
When I do.
Because sometimes I take it back.
And I’m learning, slowly, the messes we make are better left surrendered, better left tendered by Him who knows our sorrow in the making and can raise us to joy in the redemption.