Tuesday, September 14, 2010

You Kissed My Scar

You kissed my scar.
A slumdog.
And You bent down.

You offered me shelter when I was lost against the elements.
You relished my companionship, stirring hope.
You encouraged me to run, be free.
You never forgot.
You found me. Again and again.
You pursued me relentlessly.

Me. A slumdog.
When I was battered by the world, You defended me.
Tarnished and stained by evil and You saw me.
When I was bitter in my unworthiness, You kept coming.
When I was trapped, You never gave up.
I dared to allow hope to flicker and You called me.
You kissed my scar.

Every time I watch this movie, it won’t let me go. Lingering in my depths, I am brokenly aware of never ending, never failing love. Gratitude overwhelms.
God, You see me. Me.
And with the insistence of water carving canyons, You open my soul.

This is the way God put it:
"They found grace out in the desert,
these people who survived the killing.
Israel, out looking for a place to rest,
met God out looking for them!"
God told them, "I've never quit loving you and never will.
Expect love, love, and more love!

The LORD appeared to him from afar, saying,
"I have loved you with an everlasting love;
Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.

I am overwhelmed and undone by your pursuing, unrelenting love.
I hope.
As the canyon widens, I learn.

You kiss my scar and my brokenness is undone.
You kiss my scar and in Your love, I am a millionaire.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Sacrifice and Sweetness

Today, I flew through Chicago. I sat next to a soldier who had just finished his tour of duty.

"It was a long year," he said. And now his journey home. Iraq, Kuwait, Germany, Maine, Indiana, Chicago. A travel weary young man, yet we had a pleasant talk.

As the wheels touched the tarmac of his hometown I said, "Welcome home."

He nodded and a smile welled like a natural spring to light his whole being. "Thanks."

We were strangers, but with those simple words, we shared a moment entwined with the sacrifice of service and the sweetness of home.

It was a privilege.