The heavens write letters of encouragement too. Just stand under it and read the bold strokes of orange, flame yellows against a canvas grey.
And a seeking soul finds solace under the canopy of God’s intimate signature of glory. Hope strokes, brush strokes, holy caligraphy for a sinking, seeking wounded weary woman. Man.
Because the Great I Am is the great sky writer. Of grace notes in the sky. Set before the ones He loves. The downcast and the sin-weary. The misunderstood and missing out.
On the days of the mid-stride missteps in the sojourner’s journey, rest under cover of the God sky. Take cover. Take encouragement.
There is more than a silver lining though there is that. There are glory streaks of brilliant screaming God colors.
Open the notes penned in the sky with pinks. Grey’s moment is waning and God’s people are the hope clingers under the envelope of blue. Looking up and looking long into his heavenly canvas gives life from the Creator of yours, of mine.
Desperate down-trodden sister sojourner, take the God letters to heart. Read them slow, these skyward treasures for the wet and weary. The radiant Son of Man is come and will come again.
Rest under the knowing.
Walk into the waiting calm with strength, fresh strength from the mighty storm. Hold fast and long to torrential grace which washed you in the reigning down. Press into the new day, strong and strengthened one. Let storms renew. Shake off despair, let the rain wash you, refresh you, renew you, protected Child of God.
Stand facing strong while you read the letters He writes for His still-earth-bound children. Face all with a knowing that He walks and shields. Loves and guides. Watches out over the weary.
Plant sure your feet while the winds whip, they will. He shoulders the blistering winds of worry and guards the tired soul. Seek Him as the sky turns to indigo, lavender and plum. He writes his love notes, pens them beautiful. Pens them with love. Pens them for you.
Open the grace and rest under His Heavens, weary ones.
Look into His eyes and into His skies.
Take, receive, hold fast to the encouragement He gives.
It is grace. Take the manna from the skies, God-sent.
Take grace. And give thanks.
Until you rest your weary soul under the black of night with a head filled with prayer and a heart filled with praise.
And shout your loud amens.
For you are not alone.
joining heather at the E of O for just write