A WEARY TRAVELER

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weary traveler

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It’s the understanding that I am indeed free that grants me peace to know it is possible to live above the struggles of this flesh. It’s knowing that even shackles and persecution can’t rob the peace and joy I have in You.

It’s knowing that I have found favor in you. It’s confidence that sometimes lulls me into mediocrity or wrong choices. That understanding fuels my free spirit to wander into dangerous places, to take risks, to live as though I have indestructible armor that envelopes my body and soul.

These things flow through my body and set it at ease, gently whispering the wonder of your power and love as music to my soul. It’s not the things of this world made by the hands of men that I find treasure or comfort in. I’ve learned the wonderful gifts of this earth supplied by You can be turned into idols; the idols that have graduated from statues to houses, buildings, and cars.

The beautiful cut and polished stone from your creation flashes brilliant under your radiant sun, it declares the majesty of your creation. It can seduce even the strong among us. Often we chase after your creation instead of you.

In this state of mind is where we find the words of the foolish, polished like the stone, waxing poetic in the ears of the deaf. Holding up those as gifts to the world that should be torn down and cast from among when taken with the wrong perspective.

It’s knowing the lost world celebrates in it’s deaf and blindness, while I can walk in the meadow and see the honesty and truth of your creation, gently leading me with a whisper as a song unto my soul.

Though I will struggle in turmoil of this life, I will seek you. When death surrounds me my eyes and voice will be lifted up. Despite the fallen world, I’ll look past the nature of it, in spite of the horrid acts of human nature, the death and suffering, the rust of the human condition, my soul will reach for you even in the midst of my tribulation.

The season of rain may soak me till numb and nearly drowned, the sun may bake me in hot anguish, tears will find their way from my heart back into the earth, but none of it may keep You from whispering gently to my soul, lifting my spirit in the song of my life.

The world’s word may attack my soul, yet Your word is written in my heart, spreading from it as armor against the lies and deceit of a world bent on the destruction of themselves.

When I find myself in the winter storm of my lessons, I’ll reach for warmth as I think of You. When I’m in need of the basic necessities of life, I’ll take refuge and thanks in the provision You’ve chosen for me in those days.

As I crouch and turn my back on the bitter cold, I’ll see your hand and know that You are gently whispering the song of strength to my weary soul. I know You’ll be there in all the seasons of my life, calling and guiding me. Pushing and protecting me, loving me despite all my shortcomings. Cherishing the souls You created, looking upon the weaknesses and yet being able to gaze upon our sin due to Your sacrifice of love for us.

It is knowing when the wind and rain, snow and pain, sun and strain have finally taken it’s toll on my body and mind, You will pull back the elements of this earth and allow me to walk upon them as I make my way home to You.

The place I was born to be.

You will welcome yet another weary traveler home…