Before we'd even showered off outside the beach house
The waves had come and demolished our sand sculptures,
Erased our footprints.
No one else would even know we'd spent four days there.
But look at us, three days later:
Red faces, peeling skin, a multitude of freckles,
Sunscreen notwithstanding.
Four hours from the beach and home again,
And our bodies still proclaim the story of the sun
And the ocean
And our mighty Creator God.
And Jesus said, “Who touched Me?”
When all denied it,
Peter and those with him said,
“Master, the multitudes throng and press You,
and You say, ‘Who touched Me?’"
But Jesus said,
“Somebody touched Me, for I perceived power going out from Me.”
Now when the woman saw that she was not hidden,
she came trembling;
and falling down before Him,
she declared to Him in the presence of all the people
the reason she had touched Him
and how she was healed immediately.
And He said to her,
“Daughter, be of good cheer;
your faith has made you well.
Go in peace.” [Luke 8:45-48]
It would seem that the power that freckled us,
Burned our faces,
And still shows its marks on us today
Did not escape from Him unnoticed.
Unimaginable perception.
Unfathomable strength.
He could dissolve us
With a glance.
And yet -
(Thank you, Lord, for those two words) -
And YET:
The clouds burst forth with His mercy!
Oceans swell up with His grace.
All that I can comprehend of His love,
Scoop into my tiny pail and take home,
Is but a thimbleful -
A few grains of sand from rolling dunes
Eight drops of sea from the great deluge.
And yet -
And YET:
He. knows. my. name.
I am etched on the palms of His hands.
Nail-etched.
Such greatness
Has stooped down to pick me up -
A dull, dead, sandy shell -
To wash me off,
Give me life,
Make me HIS.
