and there are two ways of being undone.
I feel undone because the devil has been unraveling me: spinning me out faster than I can catch a breath.
a frayed bit of rope unraveling fast as the tension tugs on it.
split ends and weakness.
I cannot hold anything.
I try to braid the rope back, pinch the end, try to stop that unraveling; but it slips through clumsy fingers that burn at its touch.
rope burn is painful.
so is trying to hold your life together in your own strength.
it's clutching, grasping, clawing, gasping as your head sinks below water.
it's undone.
it's a stripping away to a painful place where the devil crows over you and your loss.
it's debilitating.
paralyzing,
and then, there's UNDONE.
life lived upside down and inside out but oh-so-right because He's at the center of it.
it's Matthew 5 and that Sermon on the Mount.
Blessed are you who you are poor, mourning, meek, hungry, thirsty, persecuted, judged; you outcast of this upside down world who choose to hand all this over to God and be the peacemakers, the righteous, the merciful, the pure, the satisfied: those sons and daughters of God.
it's loving not just neighbor as your self, but love your enemy too.
the giving of your soul. heart, mind, and strength to God alone.
it's being unashamed to be the light, His warm-light in an otherwise cold and distant world.
its God in flesh, in you.
