A voice says, 'Shout!'
I said, 'what shall I shout?'
'These people are nothing but grass, their love fragile as wildflowers.
The grass withers, the wildflowers fade, if God so much as puffs on them.
Aren't these people just so much grass?
True, the grass withers and the wildflowers fade, but our God's Word stands firm and forever.'
- Isaiah 40 {The Message}
Oh Dear God ~
In many ways our lives are so very fragile. The very next breath we breathe just might be our last. That's a little unsettling. To say the least.
But when all is said and done, we know deep within our hearts that our birth days, our death days, and every hour sandwiched in between our arrival and departure from this planet are completely in Your most wise and capable hands. And although we sure would like to call the shots and control the timetable of each second that defines our existence here on this earth, the span of our years is completely out of our control.
That, too, can be more than a little unsettling.
We are Yours. And when that peace-laden truth finally settles in afresh to our oft' worried, anxious hearts and minds, we, with faltering lips, can only pray, 'Thy will be done.'
Give us a strengthening grace to live that prayer out moment by moment, with a holy joy that just can't be explained ... or taken away. Especially when loss and grief threaten to overwhelm.
For Jesus sake. For Your glory.
Amen
In honor and memory of my parents' three loved ones
who've passed away in the last few weeks.
Come quickly, oh blessed Comforter, come.
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Sabbath's purest, kindest blessings to you, to yours.
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