Answer me when I call to You, O my righteous God. Give me relief from my distress; be merciful to me and hear my prayer. -Psalm 4:1
My heart is not meant to be boxed in.
Yet here it lies, crumpled in to four sides of simple space and compacted into complacency. Iron clad, kept in a darkness so suffocating were it to see the sun, my heart would reel and writhe against the goodness. No room to move, no gap to grow. Just tight, constricting beats that breathe in slow, small gasps. It is imprisoned by my own insecurity.
Lord, help me. Somehow. Please. Break me open. Pull back the shades I’ve kept shadowed in my heart. Let my weakness be exposed, help my heart to speak of Your significance.
I am crumbling in the driest parts of my soul. I am stained by my stagnant hopes, distant dreams. I have been beaten by my brittle belief, content to be contained. Slowly, I am shriveling.
But You are strong. Your glory grows and gathers through the ends of the earth. If You are for me, who can ever bring me down?
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