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I had heard some of His stories; I had even read a few of His words.
But I didn’t know…
I didn’t know this story was not simply history, but would change and rearrange every aspect of my life.
I didn’t know His motives were not punishment but love.
I didn’t know the longing inside me wasn’t accidental but would lead me to Him.
I didn’t know He was there, always there, all those years, He was there.
I didn’t know He innocently took the cross on my behalf.
I didn’t know His resurrection meant I, too, would be raised to new life.
I didn’t know He would make such an exchange with me.
I didn’t know this story demanded a response.
I didn’t know what the enemy meant for evil, He would use for good.
I didn’t know my shame would one day turn into glory.
I didn’t know He created me for Himself.
But He knew…
He knew I was in the midst of a life that wasn’t working.
He knew my heart was equal parts fragile and calloused.
He knew the vacillation between running and ignoring would eventually lead me to my knees.
He knew one day my eyes would be opened, my chains would be loosened, and my soul would come to life.
He knew He’d impute a righteousness I could never earn, work for, or imagine.
He knew a passion would be birthed in me that would burn in ever-increasing measure.
He knew my history would not just be cleansed, but now used in His hand to draw others near.
He knew “all I once held dear I would count as loss.”
He knew surrendering to Him would become my singular ambition.
He knew abiding in Him would become my greatest goal.
He knew glorifying Him would become my one purpose.
I didn’t know the Author of this story was also the Author of me. But He knew. Oh did He know.
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