The grace of God I find sweet
Yet sweeter still, and more meet
Is His sovereignty;
Lending greatest peace
Of God I know not much
In comparison, though such
A vast deal is left to be learnt
Still I know enough
Bury not beneath pride
And to the world be not tied
Nor find heart and soul in rust
But in Him, your trust
These simple truths I ache to learn
Though not for a crown to earn
But to honor One whom I love
And see Him above
We see them in many different places. Some stand proudly on top of a church. Others hang around a friend’s neck as jewelry. While some mark the burial plots of loved ones who are no longer with us.
As you’ve probably guessed, I’m referring to crosses. The ordinary cross we often times see is simply designed and not much to look at. It seems insignificant, but it’s far from.
When I sit in quiet and in peace -- though perhaps not peace in my own heart -- I am strongly aware of the fact that pride is my worst sin. Pride in that I think I can do my tasks well on my own; pride in that I do not admit my mistakes; pride in that I hesitate to ask questions at the risk of looking like a fool; pride in my dealings with others, where I make assumptions about their lifestyles, and become satisfied with myself for not being like them. C.S. Lewis said that "a cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute".
Lile didn’t leave the barn for two days. She slept in a loft and refused to leave Mischief’s side. Mia brought her food and water, but said nothing. The morning of the third day, she went out and dug a hole to bury the kitten. Then she dried her tears and went inside.
Coem was on his way out the door with his pack on his back when she entered. “Good morning, Lile!” He said.
“Morning,” Lile mumbled.
“I was going outside to gather some bark. Would you like to come?”
{thank you for your comments on the first part! I've changed some things - though I haven't put it up on here, it was minor editing and taking out some of the redundencies in long sections of thought. Here's part 2!}
Mia passed a plate to Lile.
“How will we ever survive?” Lile asked. She looked at the thin slice of bread on her plate. A few peas rolled around it, and a tiny piece of cheese finished the meal.
“The Creator will provide,” Mia said, handing Coem his dinner.
{Here's the first part of Mercy Victorious. It's longer than the other short versions of the stories but still shorter than a full-length. I have to say, I think this has been my favorite to write and re-read - probably partly because the characters are inspired by real-life people and the story came in pictures, like Nikolai}
These trees stand,
casting about in their solemn silence, whispering
of the deepest secrets of man, bearing
their hearts on the heaving winds, that cut cold
through these hallowed grounds.
And the tears of heaven wash
the wounds from our broken hands, as we
raise them up to praise, in the
sorrow that we endure, heavily
on these shoulders that carry this,
our burden; breaking image of life.
We hope only, because we are somehow sustained, by
this love, which is so much the source of
{this isn't based on fact, but the musings of my mind. There have been no protests here, and we don't see any reason for there to be any; the local people are happy. But I put myself in the shoes of one of my friends in a nearby country, and this is what resulted}.
Shouts and angry voices drifted up from the street.
Christ,
wounded,
bloodied.
The face of Love,
marred.
Sweat and dust
mixing with the blood,
that He is spilling
from His heart.
The heart of God.
Where is the glory?
Why tears?
Where is the gold crown?
Why is this fear?
Why do I see Him crashing down?
Where is the triumph?
Where is the throne?
Who can save Him?
Why is He alone?
My love isn't enough.
My heart is quaking.