Redemptive House

In the gray places 

of my soul before 

I even know to call

out, He is there.

In the wrestling hour

of night, the nudging

that keeps me unsure,

those times my mind

cannot control the volume

of thought, when the wave 

upon wave of incessant

uncertainty pounds

me to a shallowness

I can still drown in, 

a wallow of despair,

He is there.

If once I surrender,

let loose my doubt,

scream out that Name

above all others, I am found

and settled in the patient

care of the Man of Sorrows,

my Comforter meets me in

His redemptive house, 

and I sit in surrendered 

awed at the feet of Jesus.

—C.L. Fisher, Nov. 2020

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