In the Courts of My King

Today is one of those days I’m sitting down to write praying the Lord will take over this post. Because I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. But that’s usually the case.

More than we choose to accept, I think, that’s the case. After oversleeping by two hours this morning (I set my alarm for just ten more minutes…), the weight of the world started gradually pressing on my shoulders, along with the strange lightness of “But I’m a freelancer. I don’t really have to do anything today if I don’t want to.” The only way to calm the confusion was to have some Jesus time. It’s like my mother says, “I don’t spend time with Him because I’m oh-so-spiritual; I do it because I’m desperate!” Today was a desperate morning. This post is quite desperate. Bear with me.

As I sat down in my favorite green chair to spend some time in the courts of my King, He whispered the truth to me I needed. It’s never been me, it’s always been Him. From the first time my words impacted someone for the better, it was Him. When my first post sold, it was Him. If any more sell, it will be Him. If my words ever touch anyone’s soul again, it will be Him. It will always only be Him. Without Him, I am nothing. 

This is a shorter post today than normal, but it is what was on my heart. Thank you for entertaining my ramblings this afternoon.

Until next time.


He must increase, but I must increase.
John 3:30

Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself like a little weaned child with its mother; I am like a little child.
Psalm 131:2

You give him blessings forever; You cheer him with joy in Your presence.
Psalm 21:6

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord as long as I live.
Psalm 23:5-6

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Limberlost’s Gate

The abusers
They know not what they do
So we shy away
And they push closer
Knives in hand
Tearing at the garden You made

What do You will?
Shall I stay, shall I flee?
To stay is to fight
To flee is to acquiesce
So tell me, oh Gardener,
What do You will?

We hold the keys
But You see the seeds
Scattered by hands uncaring
Forming brutal weeds

Now the mistakes have been made
Scars of thorns lay tattoo my flesh
You paint them into roses
Each tear having a purpose

Looking back now, I see
Where beauty once was trampled
Gently You have pruned it
To be more Heavenly.

This garden is ours,
Next time I’ll be more careful
Set the Watchman at the gate
Listen to Your whispered presage
And trust that when
Mistakes are made
You’ll restore this garden to beauty again.

“My sister, my bride, you are a locked garden- a locked garden and a sealed spring.” ~Song of Songs 4:12