And what could I possibly say about these things ? I am a mess and a screw up. I am fallible. Yet, I hear you make much of nothing. Out of the broken you make things new and whole. Is this true ? How could you possibly love this tired heart. Tired of idols, tired of hoping, tired of self. So down cast, O’ my soul. For I once Adam, sheepishly hiding from your tender love. Ashamed and embracing the dark. Naked and filled with angst.
Yet your love knows no bounds. You searched for me O’ Lord, in the mist of all my shame and disgusting sin. What could I possibly say about these things? I deserve death, yet with no merits of my own you lavish upon me your grace.
I am a lover of grace, and a lover of your mercy.
Psalm 86:13 — For great is your steadfast love toward me; you have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol.