I know I have. Even study down lengthy Sword. Sharp Word. Pointed scriptures. Meant to pierce and divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow, thoughts and intents of the heart.
He is proving His Word true.
“Is it true?” My knees are cramping in warrior stance and the Sword is before me. Ready.
“I promise rest. Enter My rest.” He loosens my grip.
“I can’t!” Pause…. “But how?” Soul fingers release a wee bit.
“Come to the throne of grace and find grace.”
“Grace?” Fingers are tingling blood flow. Soul is feeling…what? Trust?
“Grace. I will do what you can’t. I know how.”
Salt water seeps out ‘neath lashes. Warrior shout and victory call cries from trembling lips. Salt water washes over lashes. Soul wounds. And heals. Salt water weeps over Sword. His hand is over my hand. Our hands are wet together and His hand turns mine.
I’m holding Sword at new angle. Broad face blade to God face bright. I look at our hands together.
"Thank You. Thank You!” And trust starts breathing.
The Sword in hand is long. Very long. It reaches beyond all the over six-foot tall years. And to look at it is like looking straight into the sun. Eyes tear and everywhere is sun spot. Son light. Glory.
And what is glory, really? It’s more than I can wholly grasp. But let the holy grasp me.
“Adoring praise or worshipful thanksgiving,” is one definition.
Thanksgiving is my “not forgotten.” My “remember truth.” My active “Amen.”
I know no other way toward “believe and trust and at the same time hope” pisteuo.
I’m a bit like that old washing machine. Happy, unbalanced, and gripping hard at spigot with trust issues.
But this morning I am filled with thanksgiving.
She looks at me odd. My German looks at me knowingly. He knows me. I’m not good at dates. No good with the calendar.
Oh, I know today is Thanksgiving Day...