When the pestle in the mortar,
Turns to crush the wheat,
The hand that does the turning,
Bore the nail scars for me.
Though human hands
Will hold the pestle,
And human words
Press wounds to grief,
In the crushing
He makes me useful,
To meet other human’s needs.
Her words crushed me yesterday, this one I held in high esteem. Rejection pierced my soul, and sent me weeping to the One who sees, who hears, and who knows rejection well.
And He comforts as only He can. It is that comfort that draws us closer to Him, recognizing the price He paid to offer it.
He knows, He sees, He hears, He comforts.
Isaiah 51:12
I, even I, am he that comforteth you:
who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die,
and of the son of man which shall be made as grass;
Isaiah 53:3
He is despised and rejected of men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief:
and we hid as it were our faces from him;
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
His Song in the Night 
Erica,This was so timely and good this morning! Thank you! I plan to save it for future re-reference! Keep us posted on Noah. Love and prayers,Judith
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Thanks so much for letting me know. I will sure let you know what he decides! ❤️
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You have a talent, my friend! Beautiful poem about something that is hard to experience, yet I feel this is all part of our sanctification. I know I have been sanded a lot in the last year and a half after the cancer diagnosis in September 2021, going through six months of treatments, and now going through them again. His loving arms is what has carried me through all these months. Such peace and comfort they bring!
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Thank you, sweet friend. You are living out that experience with purpose to bring God glory. You are right—it is no easy task, but absolutely necessary for sanctification. I did not realize you had started treatments again. I will be praying and I would like to send a care package. Would you mind messaging me your home address again?
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