I was dead in the grave.
It all suffocates. So deep, so choking.
Too much.
And the weight of not-yet-loss nearly breaks me in two.
I was covered in sin and shame.
I heard Mercy call my name.
He rolled the stone away.
Right now, that seems far too good. There's no way to process the words other than feel them out inarticulately to their ends.
It
is
Too
much.
It
is
Too
much.
Emotion howls its presence, and this death-quiet weight kicks up into a nascent storm. I look down, feeling almost as if I should be able to see it, shadowed in my skin along the faint cut I couldn't quite make.
I'm alive because He lives.
It's far too real
this aching Resurrection.
Far too real.
It's too much.
The sorrow of my own partings takes my breath.
This I know, this I have lived. This solidity of knowing. I know him who said it. He would not lie. If he is there... come hell or high water...
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow
It's too much.
It's fear
it's loss
It's sacrifice and reunion.
And friendship.
I am unable to sort one Resurrection from the other - His from mine.
Or rather ours.
I know He holds my life, my future in His hands
Because He Lives - Matt Maher
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