The Assembly of Righteousness

We cannot expect a heart to give

What it has never known.

A child who was never held

Will not know how to hold.

A soul that was never chosen

Will not know how to stay.

So let us not demand perfection

From those still learning to be whole.

Let us be the arms of grace

That reach where pain has grown cold.

Love them anyway.

Even when love is not returned,

Even when it aches to stay.

For perfect love does not measure, It mends.

We were not called

To judge the wound,

But to dress it.

Not to shout from pulpits,

But to kneel beside crosses unseen.

For many are the afflictions

Of those who walk in light

Yet through every trial borne in silence, Another heart learns how to rise.

Jesus once asked,

“When will this cup be taken from me?”

And still, He drank it. So must we.

Because the hope of the next generation, Lives in the afflictions we endure.

The assembly of righteousness

Is not four walls on a Sunday.

It is the quiet gathering

Of those who refuse to turn away. Those who pray for others,

Who share burdens,

Who love beyond understanding.

And when grace becomes our language,

The unloved will learn love,

The broken will find home,

And the lost will call us family.

freedom begins where I choose just to be