Lately, my soul has been troubled with slights and affronts. Certain family members have been behaving the way their father did…which is halfway to be expected. My bank is behaving like a money-making institution (at my expense), which is also no surprise. Certain political candidates are not aware of how offensive and clueless he is. All is as is expected with the world.
My immediate reaction to all this, however, has been to get upset. But then the Holy Spirit gently reminds me to let it go. From experience, I know that I will just gather it all back again…unless I lay it at the blessed feet of Jesus.
Those blessed feet…those feet that walkied the countryside to reach the poor and struggling people who felt incapable of measuring up to God’s expectations; those blessed feet that strode with purpose into the temple to confront and challenge the religious leaders; those blessed feet that the promiscuous woman wept over, kissed, washed with her tears, and wiped with her hair; those blessed feet that walk with me in the morning damp grass as I feed my birds. Yes…those feet.
I hesitate to lay my hamper of angry reactions, resentments, bottled-up retorts, outraged responses, and plain old bruised feelings at those blessed feet…but I must because I have been told to…by Him. He smiles, extends His pierced hands, and reaches out to me with the parental gesture of “Come to me…let me give you a hug.”
‘Piled high and deep’ refers to the stuff I have laid at His feet.
Thank you, Jesus. To You be the Glory.
After my hug, I back away, taking a deep breath of His blessed Spirit, turn with renewed peace and composure, and look around to what He has for me to address next…