Over the last couple weeks, as darkness threatens,
I’ve allowed some shifty shadows to creep in between my Shepherd and me.
Nothing of much substance, but enough to sense the coolness.
During the day, the rush and tumult keeps a body warm and I forget. Then night falls and I remember.
I close my eyes and feel His prodding and am almost moved to tears, but I flinch, blink hard and tremulously turn a cold shoulder and my thoughts to sleep. What’s happening? Why do I sit outside the encircling warmth of Fire? What am I afraid of?
Fire may keep us warm, but it is still dangerous.
“To you, O Lord, I call.
For fire has devoured the pastures of the wilderness,
and flame has burned all the trees of the field.
Even the beasts of the field pant for you
because the water brooks are dried up,
and fire has devoured the pastures of the wilderness.”*
As living water, bread to the weary traveler, God’s Word is worth more than the most valuable treasure a billion times over… “It is also sharper than any two-edged sword piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”*
God’s Word may be life-saving, but surgery can be painful.
The distance shouts and I can’t ignore it,
The coolness chills and I’m drawn by Your warmth.
May I never, ever again shrink from Your hand.
Naked and exposed, I offer You my broken heart.
Burn out the rot, and make me brave to stand victorious in Christ,
That I might do what is right in Your eyes Oh Lord, turning not to the right or the left*.
*Joel 1:19-20; Hebrews 4:12; 2 Kings 22:2