the one who picked the
highest and flimsiest branch
on which to settle
as the storm raged all around...
the one who clung with tenacity
as the barely a branch almost a twig
branch was flying in the wind.
the bird who seemed not to notice
the rain and wind and thunder.
and I watched as that bird
simply stayed. and stayed.
for five full minutes it stayed
before flying off into the
pouring rain.
and still I stared at that
little branch.
radical trust.
trust seeming to make no sense
yet remains uncompromising.
the trust required to sit on
a swaying branch as the
wind fiercely blows.
that kind of trust.
the trust which demands a
belief firm in something or
someone outside of one's
own self.
that is the kind of trust
with with I long to live.
to live with my eyes so
focused on His eyes
that all else seems
to fade away.
to follow wherever
He is leading
no matter the cost.
that kind of trust.
"See, God has come to save me.
I will trust in him and not be afraid."
Isaiah 12:2
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