Saved From The Bend.

You want to save us, God.
From the very beginning when we walked away.
And you’ve been saving us ever since.

You saved us from our self-inflicted pain, covering with garments our ugly, naked shame.

You saved us from oppression, under a heavy hand, that we could enter through the sea into the promised land.

You saved us from the belly, the belly of the whale, when we ignored your guidance, giving grace despite how we fail.

You saved us from the death, a life apart from you, you spilled your blood that we, that I, might begin life anew.

You’ve rescued us more times than I can recount.
I need to be reminded.
Now.  And again and again.
May it remind me of your incredible love, this ever saving plan.
Help me to remember, when I start to bend this truth.
Crushing us under your thumb, it is not your real intent.
Those times I feel you say, as a friend just put to words-
“Just pick up your damn cross already, it’s really not that hard.”
Help me hear and see and know, that those angry words don’t fit.
They just don’t match with this awe-some story you’ve been telling again and again.
God, you save us.

You save us when it’s our fault.

You save us when it’s not.

You save us left and right, in the morning, and in the dark night.

O, you want to save us.

And you have been, and you will.

This lovely loving truth, this our hope and stay, this, and not the bend, is what prompts me to obey.