Wreck Me

Dear and beautiful Savior, I love you, yet do not always show it well. I do not do what I ought and find myself doing the very things I shouldn’t. I know how difficult it is to always love, and feel love, and to always show outwardly what inwardly the heart struggles with.

I wish to love people the way you do. How do I learn such a thing? I need you to wreck me with your love, that love would be the only thing I bleed when I am wounded. I no longer want to be afraid of the most biting tongue or the most bitter of persons, though they rip me apart with their words, their scorn, or their anger. I want to give only love in return.

Change me, Lord, so that I am not afraid of the homeless in the park or the teenager hanging out in the parking lot. Fill me with such love that all fear is driven out of me and I am compelled to reach out and share Christ, though I be wearied, used up, and stretched so thin that I am like butter scraped over bread (as a hobbit once said). I want the worst of sinners to be drawn to such a love, the kind of love you showed the world.

Artwork: Christ Consoling the Wanderers by Tissot