My Lord, within the tranquility of the shadow of the cross, my soul finds rest. What a strange dichotomy of imagery that reveals the truth. An instrument of torture and loud chaos creates a shadow of hushed grace. Your ways are not our ways, God. They are so much higher. The loud cries of my heart are silenced when the words fall from the lips of my Savior – It is finished. The sudden ferocity of Your canopy of unmerited favor not only shook the earth, it woke up the souls who had fallen asleep in sin. That tremor reached across time until it shook my entire being with truth. You are holy, Lord. You are kind and just. On my knees I lift up thanks for the pardon that allows me to return home. On my knees I bow my head to receive Your anointing in order to accomplish that which You have purposed for my life. In the precious serenity of Your finished work, I will cease striving because I know my God. Under the mighty Word of truth in Isaiah 55:8 and the authority of Christ Jesus, I bow in prayer.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. Isaiah 55:8, NIV