I open this day, like a book. The moments, a page, an asking, a taking….of time. It’s mine, to do with it what I should, what I could, what I can. But the pictures allure me. The stillness in the moment, the color, the awe, the wonder….they captivate me. Where I want to stop, dwell, embrace, the beauty in the here, now.
Keep turning, I hear the Master say. Keep reading, running, racing toward the finish line. The end of the book is nigh.
The world opens as the truth saturates me, drowning out the lies from darker days, wearied ways, foolishness of fleshly, more selfish times.
I hear. The pages call. They beckon me to turn. To read, this moment. The waking. The breath, the life, in the story. Will we read the text before us? Or do we always covet a different book, a different time, a different ending to His chosen story….for us?
The trusted Author, more than a master of the pen….an endearing Friend, pulsating with heart, passion, awakening balm as I turn each page.
The Paralyzed One blossoms like a garden flower, finding life in the Morning Son. It is worth the chance to hear His story. The story He writes for us.
With eyes of faith, the words come alive. They dance on the page and wedge in my soul like the warmth of a spring day. They play in the corners of my mind and nestle in the bottom of my heart. They will not return void. The Story. The story of The Chosen One.
His story.
A climactic, triumphant entry. Walking in Victory. Life in the testimony. Can we share our testimony? Be the testimony? Live without fear for we know the story’s ends?
Yet, I read, I wake, I live….as I slowly turn each page. Because in my story, our story, His Story…we know….not just know, but become, am one with, The One Who Wins!