For the soul-weary saint whose prayers continue long after the sun sets at the end of each day…
…like a favorite pair of jeans, soft and form-fitting, but ready to split in all the wrong places at any second.
…like a ragtag stuffed animal dragged everywhere for the comfort it provides.
…like a tattered Bible, pages and chapters falling into lap from so much reading.
…like my mother’s denim shirt filled with the fragrance of her person and her prayers.
…like rocks in streams, rough edges smoothed from the constant flow of life.
…like husband’s knee pads, scraped from hours of toiling in their protection.
…like the eyes of an old saint, wizened from years of so much seeing.
…like gnarled limbs of sheltering tree, protecting from storm and providing a perfect climb.
…like scuffed sandals encasing feet bruised from scaling remote mountain heights to bear Your name to those who have never heard.
…like cherished dishes, cracked and chipped from holding decades of recipes prepared with servant’s heart and hands.
…like an old screen door, filled with punctures and tears from the comings and goings of a full life.
…like aged hands, wrinkled and veined, used up in loving and caring for others.
Lord, if I be worn out, may it be from Kingdom living. A life wrung dry for Your glory, each drop lived with purpose and intent.
Teach me to walk as a child of light. Daring to shine in the darkness of a world cast in shadow. May I give my life as an offering to be used up. Every breath a prayer. Every prayer a plea for your presence to come and dwell in me, to touch lives through me.
Take my life and let it be worn out only for You.
…Children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast the Word of Life.
…Yes, and even if I am being poured out as a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. (from Philippians 2:15-17)