At the Altar
Sometimes I feel a bit like Abraham. The things nearest my heart are sitting on a hunk of rock and I'm standing, poised with my knife. I keep glancing over my shoulder, listening for a bleeting squeak."C'mon God, where's my lamb? I'm getting tired of waiting and holding this heavy knife."
My frightened heart is looking back up at me, crying, "No! Please, don't!"
So I stay standing, in anguish. Torn between holding on to what I want and following through with obedience.
I am at that altar every single day.
1 Comments:
Shannon, I am totally there with you and what a beautiful and painful word picture you drew there. I am there everyday as well.
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