power of the cross

Lately, I have found myself gazing more at the cross. And I find no beauty in it.

Gruesome. Ugly. Gross. Weak.

What worth was placed in me that death on two intersecting pieces of dead wood was deemed 'perfect love'?

Beautiful Lord. Your light shines bright and makes corners that were once dimly lit pitch black. There is no grey area within me that have hints of hope or love. I am a vanishing mess of black.

Thanks be to God for promise of new hope -- a wholly new creation. No fixing, no glue, no mess; all is discarded and I am made new -- like the virgin Mary, new life has been borne within me without cause.

Praise be to God.

worship

Singing songs and basking in your worship reminds me of what it feels like to do what I was created for. It strangely brings me comfortably to foundations I do not know much of -- like finding absolute comfort in a stranger's bed. This is where I belong. This is where I was meant to roll around in joy all along.

In 2010, may I approach you ever boldly in prayer with an unrelenting faith in it. May I sing worship to you in awesome wonder and love.