Out of my ashes, You pull a beating heart of flesh.
It is Yours now. It only beats for You, God.
Please don’t wrap it in pretty pink bows and glitter.
Don’t place it on the shelf in a row with all the other hearts.
It is raw. It is free. You know that. You made it that way.
Throw it against the wall. Sink Your teeth in.
Let the blood stain Your lips. Taste the sweetness
Of a heart whose only purpose is to please You.
Consume every morsel, for every tender fiber is desirable.
Its scent is pungent. Its flavor, rich.
Oh, to taste. Oh, to taste! Oh, to taste; oh, to taste…
Let Your fire fall. Take my heart. Consume me.
[Image created by Ben Hume. Used with permission.]
“To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task?”–2 Corinthians 2:16