Saturday fast

My soul is dry.  Lips parched.  Stomach empty.  Thirsting, searching.

You said to bring my whole tithe into the storehouse.  What if I give my whole life? My house my home?

Where will I store my things?  (You keep my tears in a bottle.)

See if I will not throw open the floodgates and pour out so much blessing that you don’t have room for it.

Test Me in this, You said.  Give your all to Me.

Hunger washes over me.  Fill me with You.  Find me faithful.

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