Ignite IBS
Luke 7:37-38
37 And there was a woman in the city who was a sinner; and when she learned that He was reclining at the table in the Pharisees's house, she brought an alabaster vial of perfume, 38 and standing behind Him at His feet, weeping, she began to wet His feet with her tears, and kept wiping them with the hair of her head, and kissing His feet and anointing them with the perfume.
Oh God! I can't believe all the places that I've been and all of those I've come to meet. Blessings of faith, when I have only a mustard seed. For every hardship in my life, I'll hold Your name, I'll do just fine. All praise are Yours and none are mine. Instruments played by hands that cannot read or recollect one solitary note or line, yet play in perfect harmony. God whispers into some mens ears, well He screams into mine. Speaking, endlessly, all my hopes and fears. Nay, simply I'll reply. Blessings so sweet and divine. None of which I do deserve, for only a humble servant am I. Am I. Lowly, I'll wash Your feet with the tears I've cried. Each joy in my life and each breath in my lungs attests to Your overwhelming grace. Show us Your love. You see my tattered shoes, my broken spirit. Unequipped to finish the race that I could have never won. So you snatched me up into Your strong arms and over Your shoulders, I was slung. Lord, You've given me the tools to live as Your own. Talent, drive, and the willingness to run. All praise are Yours, and none are mine, for only a humble servant am I. Am I. Hope my humility can outlast my pride.
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