Broken Pieces
When tears become a lullaby and my pillow is once again soaked with the cascade of sorrow's abundance, I am held by the arms of a Savior who has felt his own tears fall in rivers. He knows what it feels like to be betrayed by those he once called friend. He surely knows what it is like to toss and turn at night, restlessly working to fill his mind with truth in an effort to drown out the words spoken against him. He has been blistered by uncharacteristic words that suit him like the shoes of a child - painfully unfitting, poking so he walks uneasily. He knows what it like to be hated and blamed and falsely accused, for beguilement to cover him like a heavy blanket and for discouragement to be donned as a crown of many thorns. He has watched the sun rise to welcome the morning to a world that would hate him, and yet he loved them. He has knelt on the rock, brought so low and bent to the point of breaking, only to cry out - Father, forgive them. He has watched as greed pushed his bro...