Be The Giftنموونە

This could be us. The sky could widen with hope over us, the trials but stones on the way, and all the stones but steps higher up and deeper into God. We could be filled on the comfort food not of the world but the Word, enclosed in the broken-and- given of a vulnerable communion, and Love Himself would make us into love.

We could be buckets poured out and crushed into bread to feed the busted, the lonely, the least, the longing, and the lost.

That right there would be our love song. Real love looks like a sacrificing Savior. That’s the holy truth.

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters” (1 John 3:16).

Love is not always agreement with someone, but it is always sacrifice for someone.

Love only has logic, only has meaning, when it takes the form of the cross.

You do something great with your life when you do all the small things with His great love.

That black-inked cross, the one daily written on my wrist, it might cut into me like a tender surgery, break me and remake me, re-form me cruciform.