I am broken before you.
Broken, and none else to run to.
Your arms spread wide.
In the shadow of your wings I hide.
As you make my pain bearable,
My brokenness becomes beautiful.
I'm a mess. But that's okay.
"I will give you rest," You say.
Thank You, Lord, for using me.
I'm a city on a hill made from dirt and debris.
Yeah.
ReplyDeleteYes.