Till the End

No darkness, no cross, no death-wound of heart could keep Christ from his friends. They ate and talked and sang and slept while He loved them till the end.

Wonders

That the Lord of the universe should make Himself small, a microscopic speck on a planet obscured in light years of galaxies, is a wonder. That the Holy One, ablaze with purity, should walk straight into the ugliness of this world and eat with sinners is another. But there is a greater wonder— that the […]

Favorite Song

I like a lot of songs, but not many like me, not out of rudeness— real songs are not rude— they are just busy with notes and lyrics and keeping pace. But this song must have eyes for kindred spirits, must be the voice to unspoken enchantments, because every word and every beat turn me […]

Shelob II

The spider who threatened my head as she trespassed across the wrong bed Mis-measured the distance of the flip-flop resistance and now lies in state with the dead. … Based on a true I-wish-it-would’ve-ended-this-way story The true fate of Shelob II is currently unknown. It is unclear whether she met her demise in the great […]

Awake and Sing

Awake, oh heart, and sing for whatever today may bring is a dear and precious thing from the hand of our God— the wonders we couldn’t have dreamt of or the solemn grief-proofs of love descend alike from above— so sing! And the foe will be hushed. .

The Awkward State of my Brain

I mean to say all kinds of things, but I forget; my public and my private mind have never met.

The Winter Sky

The winter world is cold— and withered and old— the trees droop, still and bare, in the scathing air, clothed only in gray loss— mourning the leaves lately buried with the frost. … But the sky is soft as mother-love for children wounded of life— it is older than the cold and beautifully, gently bold.

Invincible

Make our hands weak, and we will be strong. Take all our goods, and we will be rich. Inflict pain on us, and we will be healed. Make us your slaves, and we will be free. Give us to death, and we will live. Our God is with us.

Thanksgiving: Grace

Held by the Law on a million counts, but the Judge condemned His Son and gave me grace. Thank You, Father. –

Thanksgiving: Prayer

How easily my spirit faints— my words too weak to hold the weight of what I ought to say. And yet before God’s throne, where angels make His glories known and His glory lights the way, the incense wafts from bowls of gold— the prayers of the saints. Father, thank You for prayer. –

melenoria

Author: Holli