You could call it a re-run, and no matter what channel, it’s always the same one… the story, that is. My outward actions might look like TBN, but my mind is channeling HBO, because the static flow in my mind is churning this anger against my brothers and sisters; callousing hatred ’till it turns into blisters.


You see, I’ve got a rough heart that pursues only pride, and boy, I’ve tired swallowing, but it just comes back up time after time. You know, I should clean that, because surely no one wants it, but just like a dog, I return to my vomit. My heart is bulimic and my soul is exhausted.


I’ve fallen in this hole, with the pieces of me crying out to be whole – even more, to be holy! But the whole He requires is a puzzle much too large. Besides, I lost my pieces between the pillows of the couch.


The failures you’ve counted in seconds and minutes were taken care of in six hours of darkness. I went through a week-ness that can’t be measured, because in your darkest hour, you were still my pleasure. I was in love with your present, not your future.


And to answer the question, no you’re not worthy. My death was the punishment you were deserving, I paid the time you should be serving, preserving My glory and reserving your spot in My family.


My guarantee was my engagement, which meant I’d never leave you or forsake, but that I’d take you to be My bride. We’d be lawfully wed, only the vows are a little different – we don’t part after death.


Becuase you see, you are My masterpiece, the act of Me painting My mastery over your apathy. See, Calvary was My poetry, and the Cross was My love letter, promising not just better, but perfect – unfettered to work it out and finish this art that I started before – not painting your heart, but painting Mine over yours.


So yes, you are my canvas. You are My potter’s clay. You are the blank Word document that bears My Word, worded in such a way to make people say, “Yo, word.”


You are My sandlot, empty and barren until I came and laid down My foundation, topped with the Cornerstone the other builders rejected. I erected the walls and prevented the falls pre-empted by sin’s call which has tempted you all and sentenced your small fate. Then I built upon you a roof of justice – a tower so tall that it points only to Me.


In fact, this house looks so good, I’ll make it My temple, starting to resemble the image of Me, the image you see when you look at My people and find infinity and divinity inside this bit of humanity. My Trinity definitively resting and completely investing in you.


Because YOU…


Are my Canvas.

(Nathan Costiuc)

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