The heart of the gospel is the Word-made-flesh:
the Logos of God hovered over the water.
Speaking life, he called order from chaos,
Beauty emerged out of formless void.
I AM and it is,
ever-present and so very good
He pitched his tent and dwelt among us;
the Word moves into our neighborhood.
Sharing stories and suffering and casseroles,
we lack for nothing.
A scripture God-breathed whispers truth,
birthing another way. Warm and intimate,
she reads us naked, a lover whose touch is home.
Faithfully unfixed after all these years.
The heart of the gospel is the Word-made-flesh:
bread broken, hearts healed
mountains leveled, valleys raised
beloved saved [from, to, and for]
Behold, I make all things new.
And he said unto me, Write:
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