threshing floor

It feels so right to be wrong about what I 'thought' I knew of God. It seems like wisdom to be shown how small you are, how finite you are, how quickly you will expire. This is why fearing the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. It's because He is God and we are not.

I have come to love His divine resetting in my life. I've come to find that the rebuke of the Lord is life-giving, even the ones that seem impossible to recover from. Oh, is He not both the builder and the wrecking ball? He injures to heal, he breaks to bind up, and He puts to death that He might live. He swings the sword and it draws my blood to His.

The threshing floor, where God meets man, where man meets God. It's where He and I once met. I offered myself at His feet, He spread his garment over me as kinsman Redeemer. It's where He took on all of me forever, with joy in His heart. It's also where I am opened up as a sheave, spread thin, trampled, threshed, and winnowed as grain. He tosses me into the wind only to fall at His feet, a thousand times. I'm made small, I'm made useful, I'm set apart for good. I become a small bit in His large, capable hand. He keeps me.