Submit2God

We do not know how closely we hold our idols till they are torn away from us. 

With them come skin, hair, blood. 

They have grown into us, or we into them. 

Like a tree wrapped in wire, we take them into ourselves strangling slowly over decades. 

How it hurts. Being saved, the cutting away of idols. 

The deep hollows left by their shape. 

How deeply I feel my malformed emptiness. 

I limp, lopsided, arms cradling empty air where I once held the idol. 

Sanctification costs dearly,

 yet my light and momentary afflictions are small in comparison with the glory to be received.  

Rejoice you empty handed sinner,

 your rags are being changed,

 you are being given new clothes. 

Your hands are free now, they need not clutch to the things of the world. 

Let them be lifted in everlasting praise of the one who has saved.