“Between the Cherubim”
Bring Me an offering, the Lord said, gold from willing hands, wood shaped by faithful hearts, gifts carried by those who long to see My glory. Build Me a place to dwell, not for distance, but for nearness. Not for ritual, but for relationships. The Ark, carved and covered in gold, held the story of a wandering people, bread from heaven, a covenant written in stone, a staff that bloomed in barren places. Above it all, two cherubim stretched their wings, shadows touching, waiting for the whisper of God. There, in the quiet space between mercy and majesty, He promised to meet them. Not in thunder. Not in fire. But in presence. So, I come, Lord, with my offering of a willing heart, my hands lifted, my life open. Meet me where mercy covers me. Speak between the cherubim of my own soul. Dwell in the sanctuary I build with obedience and let Your presence rest right here.
Care To Plant 