Warm room

W
a poem to my LORD

(I am awake – He is here. I kneel.)

He refreshes every hour.

(I am a boy, healed by His love)

it is a quiet peace – a joy that enters my core.

Unmistakably God.

(He is my breath, my song)

The low hum of a string quartet – so soft as they play slowly on the lowest of strings with the chamber filling completely, resonating.

(He knows me. I am a man in Him)

Pulling me, turning my face – speaking into me, “Come”.

(I am in the world but not of this place)

To embrace the way it feels…on a cold winter’s’ day, as the sun shines brightly in a clear blue sky and to find a place inside, at a window…warm; with the sun heating up, radiating through the panes as it heats my face like summer.  Hot enough to remove all cold, all doubt.

A warm room.
He is that.

I never want to move – this is who I am, and this is all that I am.

“Come”


warm room with God
Photo by Dmitriy Ganin
By Jeffery Plummer
Insights for living holy in Christ, Jeffery Plummer

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