Into every broken heart this morning, Lord, pour your healing
balm. Into the uncontrolled sobbing, may your peace break through. Peace beyond
understanding. Peace which makes no sense, except that it is grounded in you.
Into the emptiness of bereavement, may you fill the space. Into the agony of ‘what
ifs’, may your presence drive out the trauma. Into the darkness of terror, let
there be light.
‘Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing. Listen
to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, O
Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait
in expectation.’ (Psalm 5)
Wait in expectation. I wait in expectation. The whole
creation groans, waiting in expectation. Come, Lord Jesus. Come.
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