Psalm 103:13–14
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him.
For He knows our frame;
He remembers that we are dust.
ABBA,
You know our frame. You know our shape, our striving. You know our disposition, our form. You know what we are made of. You know that we are but dust. You know how brittle and frail we are.
My mind imagines holding a clay (or Play-Doh) animal. Each body part carefully shaped by hand and then pieced together, each part barely holding on to the whole. Every time the animal is moved, a body part falls off and needs to be reattached. Or even that of Legos: even after it is assembled, keeping all the parts attached is as much of a challenge as assembling it was.
We are like that. Brittle. Easily broken. Dust. Fragile.
How much more so must we seem to You—eternal, omnipotent, almighty God?
And yet, this is the imagery I get: You handling us with care—pieces being broken off through the handling, but tenderly and graciously, patiently and lovingly reassembling as needed.
But unlike us, who would reassemble with impatience and annoyance that it is constantly breaking, You reassemble with perfect patience and compassion.
You made us.
You know our frame. You remember we are but dust.
And You treat us accordingly.
You are not surprised when we get weary, worn, bruised, and battered in this life of sin and the curse.
You are not surprised when we grieve, sorrow, and lament for the heartaches of living as dust.
You are not annoyed or impatient with us for feeling thus.
You just reassemble the broken pieces, handling each piece with the care and precision of a Master Builder who performs each step with the grace and passion of One who loves what He does.
You know our frame. You remember we are but dust.
You are not bothered when we come to You, bringing our petty and temporal cares.
You are not bothered when we consistently barrage Your throne with our needs.
In fact, You have invited us to come. You have opened the way for us to come. You sit, arms wide open, waiting for us to come running to You. And You delight in putting us back together again. You delight in comforting, caring for, and tending to us. We are never an annoyance and always a delight.
You know our frame. And You are ready and waiting to steady our frame.
My God, my King, my Savior, my ABBA… I come—in trust and confidence of this truth: You know my frame. You know I am but dust. And You meet me with compassion and grace. May I never stop running to You.
14 Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:14–16, ESV)
A Singular Passion 