This I ask myself.
Yet the oil He pours never runs dry.
Love for Him does not crowd out love for others... rather it overflows!
He fills it and spills it... an overflowing cup!
It is meant for the one who walks beside me in the field, hands to the plow, eyes on the same horizon.
It is meant for my neighbors: young and old, the widow, the orphan, the sorjouner.
It is meant for my oikois. The ones I fellowship with, eyes open. The ones still in the dark, eyes closed.
It is abounding and persistent.
This love? It is His, poured through me, and it is abundant.
Love you too,
Papa King. You are kadosh, kadosh, kadosh... the Lord Almighty...and also Abba.
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