A Meditation on Isaiah 21:9
“Babylon has fallen...All the images of its gods lie shattered on the ground!”
That most precious thing,
Tenderly cradled,
Fiercely protected,
Held to my heart,
Does not fall until I do.
The image of a god,
Cherished possession,
Object of affection,
Captivator of my mind,
Falls only as I myself die.
I can choose to cling,
Through the seasons of life,
Ignoring better judgment,
Against divine wisdom,
Until death opens my hand.
Or I can choose to let go,
Cast down the image,
Yield to undeniable truth,
Let the god crash to the ground,
As I fall to my knees...
And cry, “Holy, Lord God Almighty!”
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