Poetry

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This isn’t the easy way.
The path of least resistance.
No. This is more. Much more.
And deeper.

These are the hard choices made easily.
A love so real,
That even death cannot part.

This is the breaking of a heart;
A willing break;
The decision to die.
So that He can shine through my death.
His death cost too much for me to not live this way.
His death freed me.

A breaking heart in light of this is nothing.
The sound is one of joy,
Sorrowful joy.
Now I give. Everything.
With no second thought.

He had loved me completely.
And now I will gladly give it all away.
To speak truth,
To sharpen my sisters,
Means more than my broken heart.

“We should give our lives for our brothers and sisters.”
Our lives. Entirely.
There is more joy in giving than receiving.
I give my heart. For the Body of Christ.

I am training my heart.
That I may know His love for my sisters,
Above my love for myself.
Love is a choice. Not just a feeling.

I love you, sister. More than you realize.
Every word was spoken in pain.
I count none of it as loss.
Or sacrifice.

He can use me as He wishes.
It’s His right.
And my honor.
All for His glory.

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