When the lights have gone out and only darkness is left, blow on the coals of my heart. Rekindle the love that was once inside me–so that I may go to others to help them let their own light shine and begin to scatter the darkness. For God is not the one who snuffed out our candles; God is the breath that is setting the coals of our hearts on fire once again.
If we are the langage of God, how does God speak through us–how do we hear God’s voice when we listen to one another?
I’ve been wrestling with the question of Job–what do we do with suffering and pain? Is it from God?
As the last post said–we do not simply wish and pray that God would move in this world. Instead, when we pray, we ask to participate in the work God is already doing in the world. So what does that look like?
To my lonely friend, I will go
With my crying companion, I will sit
On the dying ashes of the heart, I will blow. To rekindle.
The empty hands, I will hold.
The hungry belly, I will feed.
The naked body, I will cover.
The bleeding wound, I will bandange.
To the war-torn family, I will speak peace.
In the face of vacant love, I will spill hope.
Not by my own hands.
Not with my own words.
Not through my own breath.
Not because of my own strength.
But something bigger than myself.
Come Lord Jesus, come.