“Let God love us into people of love.”
John Mark Comer on Psalm 59
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“Let God love us into people of love.”
John Mark Comer on Psalm 59

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though the mountains may depart and hills be removed; until the very end of age.
17/30
read all 30
“For the creation eagerly waits with anticipation for God’s sons to be revealed.”
Romans 8:19 CSB
“For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.”
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”
— Matthew 10:29-31

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counting pieces chipped away from yourself you think you can measure your life by your ability to drown and live child, do you drag the world with your small hands in the name of love, in the name of peace? always you forget who you are and who I am; un-speak your curse, utter my name; I’ll show you how anchors are not meant to be carried but to be thrown out of your tiny boat, sink into My forgiving ocean. look at the wave waving goodbye and welcome; Heaven arrives at your feet without you trying. I promise you home.
j. p. berame, “advent i,” featured in Whatever is True (OMF Literature, 2019)
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“This winter I am going to quieten my own heart.”
— Inger Christensen, tr. by Susanna Nied, from “Winter,” wr. c. 2009

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u r loved 02.14.25
The richest place to be is in someone’s prayers.

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consider the lilies.
the way they grow—no toil, no spin, no heartless laboring—ah, how they grow. and yet, they are clothed with radiance. dew drops. first light. the deepest breaths of dawn.
oh whose voice perfumes the darkness of my garden?
(let me hear You. let me hear You.)
consider me, twelve pieces left from feeding five thousand. i found what i gathered, or perhaps, gathered the found, collecting shards of the things i have planted but could not harvest. my Lord, my Lord, how i clutch them back into my chest. they do not fit. oh whose robe touches this disease and brings resurrection?
(fling wide these ancient doors, the very gates to my bones!)
here are the keys to the heart i earth. here are the blooms i picked and gathered. i shall go forth into the valley with my handful of dust, mountains trembling to bear witness to my deliverance.
oh whose breath is love, is song, is peaceful sustenance?
oh Lord, quiet me by Your presence, exult me by Your singing. You are my lambent light. You are my ten thousand fires standing guard outside my tent.
—
j. p. berame // [consider the lilies] // no. 013020 ig | chapbook
love is constantly chasing you, pouring to you, singing over you. love is always with you, until the very end of age.