I love the message, God’s love letter to his bride.
It is full of hope and forgiveness and strength for the journey.
Although I love it, I sometimes cringe when I read it’s words.
His words deliver a shot to my liver with the steely edge of it’s double edged sword.
It cuts me to the bone, to the heart, to the quick of my slow soul.
But he wounds me out of love.
On second thought, it is no wound that he delivers.
It is surgery to remove the pride, the selfishness, the lust that simmers close to the surface.
But, it is painful nonetheless.
Okay I guess there are times I don’t love the message…
When conviction overrides my conscience and ruins my quest for pleasure.
But afterword that same book that slices deeply becomes the salve for my wounded soul.
The medicine of his words seep deeply into my cut and bring healing.
Then I remember, once more, why I love the message, his message, so much.
