Psalm 119 has been read. I waded through adoration of the law, precepts and statutes. I found myself desiring to skip all the repetition going straight to love, awe and joy. My mind began to form a picture of the poet of the Psalm 119. On his face protrudes a schnozzle with one brown hairy mole on the tip, his chiseled chin has a continual frown. When he speaks his sand paper skinned hand lifts a long pale finger pointing, "I hate wrong paths." The beating of his chest accentuates the message.
My imagination isn't always friendly.
My mind recalled a Haitian friend talking at breakfast last week. I listened as he spoke of his mother's poisoning. With no one being held accountable for her death. Where are you, Justice?
For Justice I contact Jesus. He is always doing what pleases Papa God. I reach out touching his hand amidst his smooth skin I note large ragged scarred bumps. He smiles, while pointing to a cross saying, "For you."
"But God demonstrated his own love for us while we were still sinners, Christ died for us," (Romans 5:8). Jesus, The Law understood.
Prayer: Papa God who gives love in the most unusual ways. You know my confusion between attending to law and walking your grace. Please bring healing, hope and wisdom.
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