Dear Lord Jesus,
It has been a long time since I've written You this way. Did You miss me?
How is our love supposed to be like a relationship? I'm still unsure,
sometimes, how to please You.
My flesh is a tyrant. (Bother all these words and phrases). Bless me, Lord.
Make my heart right, more right than it's ever been. Show me the sneaking
grasping sins, lies, unworthy desires. Use me as an instrument
of good. Make music on me. I'm dried up and stale as an old acorn.
I want to write, sing, paint, live. Clean and plant and nuzzle up close.
There is always a part of me sleeping, and a part leaping out like a jack-in-the-
box, like an overstuffed pie.
Tuck me in, steep me in Your juices.
Help me love MORE, not less. Desire MORE, not less.
Trust MORE, not less, pray MORE, not less.
There are so many letters, so many people to write, to pray for, to be here for.
The wedding approaches. And yet what I need most of all is You. Is to lean
onto Your bosom.
What small outward acts contribute to inner peace, nearness?
Help me see the fruit growing. Not fear the storm, or the autumn,
or another long, long winter. Things grow, I grow, in winter.
Even in silence and angst.
But only by You. Glorious righteous generous You.
KJ
It has been a long time since I've written You this way. Did You miss me?
How is our love supposed to be like a relationship? I'm still unsure,
sometimes, how to please You.
My flesh is a tyrant. (Bother all these words and phrases). Bless me, Lord.
Make my heart right, more right than it's ever been. Show me the sneaking
grasping sins, lies, unworthy desires. Use me as an instrument
of good. Make music on me. I'm dried up and stale as an old acorn.
I want to write, sing, paint, live. Clean and plant and nuzzle up close.
There is always a part of me sleeping, and a part leaping out like a jack-in-the-
box, like an overstuffed pie.
Tuck me in, steep me in Your juices.
Help me love MORE, not less. Desire MORE, not less.
Trust MORE, not less, pray MORE, not less.
There are so many letters, so many people to write, to pray for, to be here for.
The wedding approaches. And yet what I need most of all is You. Is to lean
onto Your bosom.
What small outward acts contribute to inner peace, nearness?
Help me see the fruit growing. Not fear the storm, or the autumn,
or another long, long winter. Things grow, I grow, in winter.
Even in silence and angst.
But only by You. Glorious righteous generous You.
KJ
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