Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Whispers of thanks fill my mind; manna in the wilderness is a precious thing if recognized. I wince down to stretch with my fellow runners, and I chuckle knowing that their ages combined match my own. Suddenly, stinging sensations prick my legs and arms; the red march of ants startles me into concealed panic. The shooting pain triggers my thoughts to ant piles of religious rituals that often hide my need for the mercy of my Savior. Thank you for planning my rescue before I even knew my need, "Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God, who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began" (II Timothy 1:8-9). Each prick of pain reminds me that he sees and knows every bit of me, "And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin" (Hebrews 4:13-15). Thank you for reminding me who I was yesterday does not dictate who I am today. The fire ants' venom punctures my skin and causes it to swell causing pain and irritation, much like the accuser trying to infect my faith. Thank you for never tiring in picking me up and defending me. The battle of fire ants can often leave scars, and sometimes its victims experience severe or life-threatening allergic reactions. I sense the same severe reactions to sinful failure and damning accusation: cutting chest pain, nausea, severe sweating, loss of breath, and serious emotional swelling. But, I also know the soothing balm promise of my Savior’s blood,"then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the LORD, and Satan standing at his right hand to accuse him. And the LORD said to Satan, 'The LORD rebuke you, O Satan! The LORD who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is not this a brand plucked from the fire?' Now Joshua was standing before the angel, clothed with filthy garments. And the angel said to those who were standing before him, 'Remove the filthy garments from him.' And to him he said, 'Behold, I have taken your iniquity away from you, and I will clothe you with pure vestments.'" (Zechariah 3:1-4) I stand accused and guilty, yet Christ erased my iniquity within a single day. Shouts of praise to my Savior for anthill reminders of undeserved grace, ever-flowing mercy, and conscience cleansing wholeness only made possible through his precious blood.
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Whispers of thanks fill my mind; manna in the wilderness is a precious thing if recognized. I wince down to stretch with my fellow runners, and I chuckle knowing that their ages combined match my own. Suddenly, stinging sensations prick my legs and arms; the red march of ants startles me into concealed panic. The shooting pain triggers my thoughts to ant piles of religious rituals that often hide my need for the mercy of my Savior. Thank you for planning my rescue before I even knew my need, "Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God, who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began" (II Timothy 1:8-9). Each prick of pain reminds me that he sees and knows every bit of me, "And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin" (Hebrews 4:13-15). Thank you for reminding me who I was yesterday does not dictate who I am today. The fire ants' venom punctures my skin and causes it to swell causing pain and irritation, much like the accuser trying to infect my faith. Thank you for never tiring in picking me up and defending me. The battle of fire ants can often leave scars, and sometimes its victims experience severe or life-threatening allergic reactions. I sense the same severe reactions to sinful failure and damning accusation: cutting chest pain, nausea, severe sweating, loss of breath, and serious emotional swelling. But, I also know the soothing balm promise of my Savior’s blood,"then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the LORD, and Satan standing at his right hand to accuse him. And the LORD said to Satan, 'The LORD rebuke you, O Satan! The LORD who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is not this a brand plucked from the fire?' Now Joshua was standing before the angel, clothed with filthy garments. And the angel said to those who were standing before him, 'Remove the filthy garments from him.' And to him he said, 'Behold, I have taken your iniquity away from you, and I will clothe you with pure vestments.'" (Zechariah 3:1-4) I stand accused and guilty, yet Christ erased my iniquity within a single day. Shouts of praise to my Savior for anthill reminders of undeserved grace, ever-flowing mercy, and conscience cleansing wholeness only made possible through his precious blood.
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
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