Love too Warm for This Heart

Fumbling fingers find a way to press the keys to tell of great grace. Your great grace. The weather outside is frightful, yes. But blizzard of heart, winter of conscious, much more so. And fire never warmed that depth. Sometimes my heart prefers the cold; the familiar where it becomes numb. Untouched and unmoved, warranting no life, no heat, no walls to shelter.

"But God."

So reads Your Text, the Holy Writ of Your expression. Once I was far off, "but God." You intervened. For reasons unimaginable in this mind, for love to warm for this heart. I see the earth, Your redemptive-expression. I see love, Your natural-expression. But then there's me. Me in my shame. Me in my filth. Me in my winter.

You say that I am Your Self-expression.

I do believe. Help me with my unbelief.

Enough at least bring my heart to beat with Yours again.