Carry me my Lord, keep me firmly set in the violence of Your current. It is there, in that tumultuous flow that I am perpetually washed by Your affection for me.
Keep me settled on the backs of Your stampeding mercies, embracing the necks of the charging mob of Your multiplied kindnesses. Make me rest in Your movement and awaken a dissatisfaction in me for anything less than the torrent of Your beauty and wonder in my soul, my heart, my mind, and my life.
Beckon me and then give me the ability to respond. Heal my broken heart and give me the ability to hope again. Reform my mouth from a crooked messenger of unhealthy cynicism and make it fit for worship and glorious declaration. Open my eyelids, stuck together with the grime of unrest, injustice, and brutal violence. May I see Your angel armies standing at the ready…
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