Arms of Grace: Worshiping My King

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Today I wrote these words to my Lord and King. I invite you into my heart with the hope you will be encouraged to be still before the Lord and to worship Him. 

I wish I could see you smile at me.
I wish I could smile back.
We would take delight in each other’s company.
And even though we do, by faith, I wish we could do it in person.
Instead I will believe you stare at me, you smile down.
But then, you are inside me, aren’t you? 
Still, to touch you. I would touch your shoulder in a silent thank you.
That no matter how short I fall, you catch me in your arms of grace.
You hold me in your fold, and speak my name in my heart.
You forgive me over and over like the ocean’s waves, never ending.
Your love goes on but it never leaves me behind.
You beckon me and give me the love I have sought.
And you touch me in the place I thought would never heal. You heal with the balm of your sweet peace.
You capture me, and I never want to leave your side.
You tell me you will  not go and leave me behind like others did.
No note will you place in my heart, saying, “I am gone. Bye.”
You stay. You remain. I weep.
You, the one I always wanted but never knew.
So sacred. 
Intimacy. So close. Tender. Holy.
When the world falls apart and tries to break my every bone if not my heart once more, I know. 
My King awaits. I enter into your presence and sigh. 
You do not sing me a lullaby. You are one. 
My Father. My friend. My up close and personal.
My eyes see now.
I am blind when I look to the world for you; you are not there.
But here, in Christ, with eyes of faith I see.
Your holiness. I am in awe.
This time away from the noises and voices and ache of a broken world.
This time away, what can I say?
I am still. And free. At last.
Jesus.

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