Strength

 

Strength arises from a crimson covering made mine by One whose love I could never earn. Strength grows out of grace.

Strength often lacks beauty. It goes unappreciated, unseen when facing enduring bitter cold.

Strength builds itself upon integrity, understanding one answers for oneself- did I remain faithful when no eye saw, when others misunderstood, when I stood alone? The One who matters never left nor forsook me.

Strength holds grief, joy, pain, thanksgiving, wrestling, peace, confusion, certainty, brokenness, healing... acknowledging these dichotomies for they drive me to the Holy One whose nature is paradox.

Strength clings to hope, knowing the Living Hope. He is the Vine who never runs dry; the Father a Gardener ever nurturing. Growth hurts for it requires pruning, frigid rains, unfiltered heat. Strength leans into the growth, knowing fruit comes in its proper time.

Strength clings with all its strength to One immune to my vapor-span life and fragility. Strength focuses not upon myself, yet it demands full devotion.

Strength testifies to beauty and trail.

Strength enters dark places, not in absence of fear but in a choice to declare redemption: from the place of death rises life.

Strength gives generously, recognizing seeds multiply when released. Strength holds even empty hands open, to receive and rejoice and release again.

Strength rests in identity secure in the image it bears, a beautiful divine fingerprint unmarred by harsh seasons. Strength anticipates storms, for these come with changing seasons. Bowed or blossoming, strength lives in true design, found in nature not appearance.