The Center of the Holy

I wish that words could capture what it is I’m trying to say
It can’t but that’s okay, it gives access in the moment:
Plaguing anxiety, weight deadening and chilled
A cool grip of loneliness, lit only by a dim fear light
The ugliness ‘gainst which I toil to scratch a living for others
Nay! My lack, my loss, my wasted time, futility my only fruit.

To the end, I press until I break. I break from this frightful trap
I sink ‘neath billows of sorrow sharp and painful, doleful, woeful, wailing
I cry unto the Savior who hears my cry and answers.
He shows himself beautiful in promised truths that break through the clouds.
My fearful flame is cast off with disdain as I blaze with a new flash of hope.
Th’eternal gospel kingdom fully accomplished in Jesus’ name.

That same name by which I am sealed, and whose glory is my only aim.
No weight of ugly sorrow can be matched with such a radiance.
Nor does it lose its value in the bright rays of joy at the recognition of His face.
Rather, recognizing how much more glorious He is than every sorrow,
Makes even this storm in which I am tossed, a beautiful golden display of His light.
Blessed be He, that not that for which I suffer loss, but He is the center.

I wish that words could capture what it is I’m trying to say
But it can’t and that’s okay.
It’s the center of the Holy
And only those touched by the Holy may enter.
Ask and it will be given to you.
Seek and you will find.

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