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.
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