noun – an act of asking politely or formally for something
Happy Wednesday all! Today my Wednesday Reads is not about a book, or why you should read, or what authors are the greatest. It’s simply giving you something to read.
I read this post by Ann Voskamp this week and sat at my computer and wept. I was so moved by this story that I tweeted about it, but I’m not sure anyone took a moment to click over and read the post.
So today, I’m not suggesting that you should read this, I’m requesting that you take the next five minutes and let God speak to you so very powerfully, to let your emotions come to the surface, and most of all let God show you who He is in a way you might have forgotten.
PS: There is a part II to the above post as well. Read it here.
If you’ve recently read a blog post that was moving or interesting or funny, please leave a comment and let us know about it.
noun: a small, thin, narrow piece of something cut or split off a larger piece
“We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog,
peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before
the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it
all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him
directly just as he knows us!”(1 Corinthians 13:12)
There are so many days in our lives when we feel just like the verse above. We are standing alone in a fog that consumes our thoughts and our hearts. We frantically search for the path to take but it is obscured by fog. We only see a small sliver of area around us. We feel lost, abandoned, and terrified. Terrified that the fog will never lift. But it is in these moments, there is only one thing to do…reach for God and hold his hand. He sees through the mist and knows exactly where we are going.
Today, I’m reposting a blog by Ann Voskamp, fellow blogger and follower of Christ. May you be encouraged to know that the sliver we now see fits perfectly into the divine completion that God controls and takes us on the path that leads straight to Him.
When that window shattered into 7 billion pieces, a sliver stuck my heart and maybe a sliver is all we ever have?
It wasn’t so much that our farm boy had turned the tractor too sharp.
It wasn’t that he’d backed the tractor into the auger of the wagon hitched behind him.
It wasn’t even so much that the steel auger had slammed into the full window of the tractor — exploding the glass into a torrent of shards all over our boy, the tractor cab, across the yard.
It was the way I saw our boy turn his face, turn away from sharp fist of the moment.
It was the way I saw him turn to hide what was slipping down all stinging wet, him more broken than any pane of glass.