You will read this because you must.
You will read this and watch as the eye of your
understanding is freed from the rust.
You will read this and indeed you will trust.’
For this has been quarried from Zion’s crust.
Let me tell you this: how I was a wretch, wandering the wastelands of my own existence. Tensed, bound by the brokenness and bitterness of self. How I wallowed in woes, worry and wormholes, till my life was stripped of wonder and all I could see was shortcut into void and chaos. If I could I would ask you to spare a minute just to listen to the melody of the nadir.
The deep of the sea is nothing compared to the depths of His Love for me. Into His arms He welcomes me, charms me and disarms me. This is not careless wordplay. I am not a petulant toddler doodling with alphabets neither is it an arrogant gamut of poetry and prose. I am serious.
Have you not heard that the King arose? Like a rose after the howling storms have passed; unfurling its petals and oozing a fragrance of victory.
I am in His arms now and there I draw in pockets full of perfumed air that swallow the emptiness that once pervaded my heart. Hear how deep calls unto deep. There is that which is unfathomable; which leaves the erudite clueless and is as the simple recital of the alphabet to the untrained. It is the wisdom of God embedded in the tapestry of Love. The utter profundity of his love for me, a mere mortal, leaves me breathless yet full of Life.
His Love is beyond dazzling. Into dungeons deep and caverns cold I have ventured in search of a God like Him. Yet I am yet to see anyone whose grandeur gleams as glorious as His. Just as a little girl would fiddle with her doll's hair like some treasure found in the recesses of the earth, I am fascinated by this Love. He has poured all his wealth together, mixed them up in one scrumptious batter and then without a thought drenched me with the fullness. He is the chef and in this platter of pleasantness He takes me and molds me with the buttery fat of His tender mercies.
Between the soul-wrenching yelps of the demon cur and the lustful clamor of the debauchee I found myself making petitions to gods I had forged after my own likeness.
My heart was tethered to a whorish appetite and my eyes chased after putrid pleasures. They curse. They bite. They bark at me.
But amazing grace rescued me… through a maze darkened by mystery and misery He leaped in and pursued me. Me – that arrogant braggart choking on the depraved daintiness, the decadent delicacies of the enemy, falling daily into the gnarled hands of that devious schemer. It was for me that He ran reckless to the place of the skull and shed His blood. Blood that trickled down from the crown plaited from thorns and ripped to shreds the ordinance that was a thorn in my flesh.
The ocean cracks, the sand by the seashore stand in awe of the splendor that surrounds His affection towards me. It is not as though, of myself, I am anything to be reckoned with. For even the angels marvel and ask "what is man that you are mindful of Him?"
But indeed I have been visited by God and invited into fellowship. He sits even as I do and sups with me. He reaches for my hair and plays excitedly, knowing me and teaching me to know Him intimately.