We…all…are so very imperfect, coming short time and time again, but Our God came for the lost…us! He still wants…us! And He still loves…us! What can we…say? Let’s Press-on
Our president welcomed a rally in Washington DC this weekend, solidifying his political dream of having the country worship the kind of exploitive Christianity that came to this country from Europe.
Your words carry that quiet certainty the heart needs—reminding us that despite our stumbles, despite the distance we sometimes feel, God’s love remains the one constant that never shifts. The repetition of What can we say…? becomes its own kind of worship, a humble acknowledgment that grace outruns our imperfections every time. The poem feels like a gentle hand on the shoulder, urging us to press on with gratitude, not guilt. Beautifully done.
Imperfect. No doubt. All of us. But these imperfections can also be windows into a persons complexities, depth, and character. Maybe it's our imperfections that give each of us our own uniqueness, and also the challenge to love one another despite our foibles. The symbolism of "His Holy Tree" brings to mind eternal life, Divine presence, restoration, and the bearing of new fruit in season. For me, the greatest comfort is knowing He still loves me despite me. I hope you're well. Regards. rlc
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Does he use Jesus's name in vain?
Ron