It’s that effortless, always hopeful, always expanding kind of love that looks straight into the soul and says, “I am going to cover your heart with the best of mine. Over and over, continuously.”
That’s what I desire. But to tell the truth, for You, as You have shown me again and again the unending depths of Your ardor, I am afraid I come up failingly short at returning the favor.
I don’t know how to love You well. I don’t know how to love You. I’m sorry. I have wandered. I know how to love another human with all of my heart, a love that is patient and kind, that isn’t self-seeking or jealous. But Your love? It seems an impossible standard.
What is Your heart? Where I have been afraid or unwilling to go, what is the richness of Your life? How do You be what I am asking?
I have to trust You with the hardest things of my life, of my heart. I have to trust You are the Lord of my life, my Protector, my Provider. My Beloved. I have to believe You when You say You are working behind the scenes on my behalf, for my best. I have to believe when it hurts. And my God above and within me, pain pierces like a snap of bone right off the joint.
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