Broken, shattered promises fall by the side of a well-worn road.
Ache pours from hearts as heaven reaches down and touches throbbing anguish.
He, Abba, says, "I love you."
Yet we fight it.
We don't believe His love or grace could touch OUR scars.
He can touch everyone's scars but ours.
We believe we aren't worthy.
We forget that He reached out to David in his sin, a man after God's own heart.
We acknowledge that He reached out to the adulteress woman, a Daughter in His eyes.
Yet we refuse to believe that that grace extends to us.
We read how He went to Zacchaeus's house, broken yet repentant man changed.
We bless Mary Magdalene for washing His feet, scorned Daughter, renewed.
We boldly say that the Bible is truth.
We've forgotten the power of the cross.
We've forgotten that love broke open that day.
We've forgotten that death was overcome.
We've overlooked that love won.
In our all tender shatter selves,
Trying to hold every piece of …