When Blood Meets Rain

It’s exciting to be working on a short story that is significant in some small way–maybe not in the eyes of another person, of anyone, maybe not significant even to me. But I believe that a short story, however insignifcant, matters to God.

I’ve lived my life in shadows, too long in the shadows, and have read words that have darkened my bones. I’ve lived the life of a prodigal son. I’ve been insignifcant. Unworthy. Untrusting. I’ve been captured in a grip eager to squeeze the blood from my body. Struggles have altered me. Cut up the presumption of myself, the horizon of which I was so confidently in pursuit.

But the Holy Spirit is my Soul Finder. He finds the part of me that is not visible to my eyes. He speaks words that color my bones and lift them higher than the earth. Though I struggle, I am found in Him. And He assures me that my life is significant. That I am His delight. That I am written. I am a story mapped in His Soul.

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