Thank you for teaching me what I desperately needed to know.
In a dry, dusty place you taught me where to find home.
Yet it wasn't really you at all, but the Father.
My Father,
Who took me to the desert to find living water.
Who stripped me of my strength to show me his own.
Who taught me to be before I can do.
The good portion, the better one,
Found in the still existence at his feet.
So that as I do for him,
It is a mere overflow of being,
Knowing
Experiencing
His love for me.
Because I never had to earn it
Or prove myself
Or give him reason to stay.
He loves me the same
He did that first day
When all I had to give him was my sin
When all I had done for him was this.
He asked me then
To just receive
To just be
To just love.
He asks me now
To do the same.
And when I have spent awhile here with him
He smiles as he whispers,
"Go and tell them."
Dear summer,
