Worship is me – good ol’ me, lying late and rising early
Thinking and writing about worship at the break of dawn;
It is you reading my words and reflecting on the nature
Of the worship you’ve offered and desire to offer.
My muse is a beautiful maiden, the most ravishing demoiselle;
Exquisite beyond description; Wise beyond compare – without peer;
Her smile carries the sun, the moon, the stars, every source of light;
Her words are soothing, sublimely subtle,
Poignantly apt, incisively noninvasive, completely compelling;
She is the perfect picture of contradictions dressed in paradoxes,
Crowned with the ultimate enigma, surrounded by barely unveiled mysteries;
Her steps are silent, even the dust isn’t disturbed if she wills it so.
She walks with the grace of a majestic feline,
And the stately elegance of a sunrise.
“This is an ancient call framed with the urgency of the times;
Don’t stagnate; Don’t give up; Don’t drift from Me; Don’t hide;
Do not trade the sounds of Heaven for profane babblings;
Do not leave your post, discard your armour, or forget your place.
“I want you to see Me when you look into the mirror,
That you’ll never be in doubt about who you are.
I want you to ask for more of Me,
There’s more of Me to go around infinitely many times over;
But there isn’t enough of you to have two masters;
There isn’t enough of you to seek Me with divided attention.
“Growth is a humbling experience, and pride is a symptom of immaturity. Let us grow in humility, because there’s no other way to truly grow. For as pride goes before a fall, so does humility go before a lifting.” – Makafui.
“Come to Me, with all your cares and burdens;
I am able, and desire to give you rest from all shackles;
To take away the stained wrinkled rags that cloth with shame;
These chains you carry do not befit My bride.
Draw close to Me; Abide in My presence patiently;
I want to share secrets and mysteries with you;
Wait on me to receive all that I have for you,
Gifts I’d prepared since the foundations of the earth.
“I want you to smell of the incense of purity;
To be the sweet smelling fragrance of excellent sacrifices;
To be the spices that make the unique blend for the oils
That perfume My tabernacle and pervade my temple.
“Alas, the choice was made –
Irrevocable by the edicts of free-will.
Though it broke My heart many times over,
I watched as you left, dejected yet prideful;
Such pride as is borne of ignorance and presumptuousness.
I witnessed the corruption of perfections once more;
Took in at a glance the full extent of the cracks and flaws
Skillfully injected into My impeccable design.
“Forgiveness is the subtle miracle that arises from the juxtaposition of grace and truth. The truth can be so difficult sometimes, but grace can bring such liberation. I wish to have a vice-like grip on both, because I hate the feeling of being in the deceptively accommodating prison of offenses.” – Makafui.
I’ve been charged with being unworthy;
Unneeded, unwanted even before birth;
Destined, not for this life or the next;
Overstaying my welcome; Overextending my reach;
Overestimating myself; Misappropriating resources;
Underplaying my flaws; Overemphasizing Grace.
I admit that I’m guilty;
But guilty of nothing but being loved, wanted, saved,
Appreciated, needed, understood, celebrated, precious;
Guilty of having to leave too soon; Underestimating myself;
Under-using Grace; Abusing my strengths; Hiding behind my flaws;
Sabotaging and badly misjudging the extent of my reach.