Writing My Worship

You know peoples intentions. 

Watching that rainstorm you knew where I was. 

You saw my umbrella, you followed it as it went into the storm, away from the house.   

You were there when I turned around, when I needed you. You felt my hurting heart, you saw where that arrow went in when she shot it. 

You invited me to come under your umbrella. You opened your big coat and I came in to stand with you.  We watched the heavy rain and thunder, we watched the rain drops fall from the sky and hit the ground. 

Whispering you asked if you could hold my heart. I let you reach in, and with two hands you pulled out a bruised and tired looking heart. We looked at it together and cried.  

You came to stand in front of me and I watched as you reached inside your coat to pull out your own beating heart; a strong fiery heart, rippling with electricity. The two hearts were beating in sync, although mine was worse for wear. 

With a heart in each hand you looked at me and I looked away, ashamed of my hearts condition. You extended the hand holding your heart towards me and asked if you could keep mine. I took it, and as I placed it inside my chest I watched you kiss my heart and place it inside your chest, watching it all the way like a priceless treasure.   

That sweet exchange with you in the rain that no one but the thunder and our umbrella witnessed, that love you gave that night, saved my life.

I was asking Jesus what He thought of a specific situation that happened last week when a friend said something not nice, and wrote this piece of poetry about it.