By Kari Bartkus as published in Gritty Faith: Wild (c) Purpose + Grit, LLC 2025
It is in those moments of stillness, as
the moon rises high and the world
goes to sleep, that I find myself engaged
in a most private and intimate
conversation with the King of kings
and Creator of the universe.
His eyes—so pure and bright—look deep
into mine, piercing the shadows of my heart
and examining my secret motives.
Every sin within me is exposed and
I am reduced to a lowly beggar, a
bleeding soul who only longs to
touch the precious hem of His robe.
My accuser hands Him the deadly stones,
and I bury my face in the dirt, ashamed.
Yet as I fall to the ground, He kneels down
to wrap His arms around my
trembling shoulders. His breath
tickles my ear as He whispers
sweet words to me—words of such a
passionate love that I close my eyes in
fear that this is just a fanciful dream, that I will
soon be awakened by the rooster’s crow.
But page after page, I read of His faithful
pursuit of me. Prayer after prayer, He
reminds me of His abundant grace.
It’s the whisper of a love so divine
that no thunderstorm can quench its
flames, nor can any river drown it.
It’s the whisper of a voice so glorious
that it makes the deserts quake
and the mountains skip like calves.
Though my love vanishes like the morning
mist and disappears like dew in the
sunlight, His remains as faithful as
the dawning of the sun.
Oh, that I would stop trading His fountain of
living water for broken cisterns of my own . . .
(Originally published on the Journal Gently podcast, which you can read or listen to at www.lovedoesthat.org/bonus21.)
