Dear Lord,
Even though we talk everyday, it feels different to talk to you in the presence of everyone. People feel you and I should have letters between us, and though we do it shocks them to find you reached beyond leagues of thrones to be in me, with me, Emmanuel… They don’t believe it.
They see me fall, bleed, sweat, and sometimes get angry, lie, steal, fornicate with someone else’s wife, kill, destroy stuff, criticise or get drunk. And they say, ‘God can’t love him, he’s a monster.’ I believe them. I am a monster.
The Wages of sin is death…someone had to die.
But you looked at me and loved me. You recalled the spirit I took to be created by your Word, and you decided you wouldn’t let go. You took your Word, your power, and made it human, a sacrifice, in my place. You took me…
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