March 15, 2012 6:06 am

I said, “If you knew, you wouldn’t want me;
My scars are hidden by the face I wear.”
He said, “My child, my scars go deeper;
It was love for you that put them there.”

(B. & G. Gaither, I am loved)

My waste land, my unwanted places – it’s them that He turns into the Holy of Holiest. The door I locked not to let in the emptiness and fear, my lessons unlearnt, my disappointed prospects – it’s over them that He puts up His Tent of Meeting. He’s there to meet me not despite my deficiencies that I would rather not discuss, but right in the middle of them. He also wants this closeness – which I need from Him more by far.



Categorised in: Margaret