Friday, July 28, 2017

Willing To Be Defeated

I used to be cocksure,

willing to trample fragile souls for the sake of being right. And

it hurts to think I was so unlike Your sacrificial kindness, so unlike Your bleeding, selfless truth.

May I be willing to be defeated to win one. May I grow accustomed to embarrassment to at least appear humble as the pride prickles are chiseled away—one by one, by weary one.

My kingdom looks ever dim in the bright hues of Your shining presence—and may all see You

in spite of me.

If I would feed on Your words more than I feed on my need, I would be so much more nourished

with life to give.

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