Your words
Not theirs
Are strong enough for the dirt
And the blood
The rough and the bad.
So when you speak of my tears
Seen and collected
Numbered and known
A different ache swells
And an empty, nameless place
Which I can’t fill
Is sweetly contained and
held by You.
At The Cross by Jennifer Toscano
His Spirit leads me to the cross.I see His wounds.I see Him struggling to carry His cross.My eyes look over His every scar.The weight of His sacrifice is palpable.The atmosphere is shifting...
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Pursuing Christ at all Cost by Erika Bailey
Do you have courageous faith? I like to believe I do. However, when I place my bold trust alongside others, I realize I'm measured on a second-class bravery scale. My admittance isn't promoting ...
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