When all I can do is Worship

I come to Him, the Almighty One.

I am all filled up.  Overflowing with my wants, my hopes, my needs.

I lay them out before Him.  Pleading for the Giver to reach deep in His treasure troves.

Not waiting, my words plummeting into a cavern of demands.  God promised to meet all my needs, and He’s simply silent.

Doesn’t my Maker care His creation is begging for water?  Jars of dreams I meticulously planned waiting for torrents of water.

He waits patiently, quietly.  Never interrupting.  His scarred hands open, inviting me to press my fingers deep.

I touch timidly, the love overpowering my open lips.  He gave everything for me.  And still I want more, I deserve more.

Gentle hands touching my lips with the coal of His life.  He placed Himself on the altar as the sacrifice, only He could take the guilt away.  The fire of His blood burning away my sin, my desire to tell the Almighty One what He must do.

Lifting my hands, all I can do is worship.

My lips silenced, He opens my eyes to see.  He is God, and I am not.

His words created each tiny detail of a flower clothed with color after a spring rain.  A mere shadow of what He wants to do for me.

He placed the sun and moon in the sky, pointing to the true Light.  Never meant to take His place.

Bridges over chasms, His cross carrying the weight of fear and doubt.  He will bring me safely home.

Fluttering bees drinking nectar obeying the One who holds the world in His hands.

Stony paths bringing pain and discomfort, leading me to a reservoir of contentment.  Knowing that God, and God alone can provide what I really need.

Birds finding food in the Provider’s hand.  My own table prepared with delicacies only He can create.  He knows how to make something beautiful out of nothing.

Seeing Him, all I can do is worship.

Emptied of myself, I can worship.  His glory before me, and not myself.  Looking at His face turns disappointment into thankfulness.

He is the Giver, all I can do is worship.

I come to Him, the Almighty One.

Photography copyright © by Jane Carole Stein

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