At the foot of the cross

I am filled with thankfulness this morning for I’m seeing so clearly once again:

I give him my weakness, for there is nothing else to give but weakness, and I would be kidding myself if I thought that I could give anything but weakness.

I give him my weakness, and he lends me strength.

There is a river of incredible grace and mercy and it flows so freely at the foot of the cross. And you can only get there by bending your knee and bowing your head.

I give him my five loaves and two fish, and he works wonders.

And when my gaze shifts from him as it is so prone to do. When my heart wanders and drifts, I will tell my mind and remind my heart:

I am weak but he is strong.

And he lifts my head and smiles at me, and he says “Arise my son, I love you and you are mine.”

And I am undone.

At the foot of the cross.

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