Faith Five minute friday

The Message Starts With the Messenger

As I sit down in the recliner to pray, the connection seems distorted, like a amp with a loose wire. I try to focus, to let the words flow, but hundreds of thoughts pound through my head and make it difficult the talk to the one who can bring me peace.

I sit there and am simply silent. I let my mind be silent.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Yes, oh God. There’s so much. But I can’t seem to get the syllables right.

Just talk.

Just talk. Yeah. If only I could do that.

But I try it. Instead of trying to get every word just right I let the words pour out. All the fears. All the guilt. All the frustration and the unconfessed sin and anger.

As I empty myself, my mind begins to clear. A peaceful feeling envelops me and my eyes brim with tears. Joyful tears.

You will never be an effective messenger of love if you don’t spend time with the One who sent it.

Oh God. I know, I know. Please forgive me for thinking I could do it on my own. I’m only a messenger. I am nothing. It is only by your grace, your unending grace, that I am here. That I’m able to love at all.

And just like that, I have hope for another day.

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