Heart breaking under all this burden.
I'm not ready. I'm not healed, whole enough for this.
And it all comes crashing; the timing, as they say, impeccable.
I'm Moses, stuttering; David, with a past. Lacking the courage of Caleb, the assertiveness of any Malachi call.
This is all true. My own words falter, the years before condemn. I, too full of fear, shy to a fault. Hesitant.
But still. Still. Still.
We are here, He and I, in this argument, which I can't help but worry He's getting tired of.
He wins every time. Because for all the resistance I've put up, He has proven able to cover me in all my shortcomings.
Really, intercession hurts. It's hard to be willing. To not be overcome. To be prayed up.
What it takes to love.
But we can't help but love when it's love which has saved us.
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