jeanne french's Page

I can bring all my cares into the throne room and place them at your feet. This excites you. I can see it on your face. Such peace. Such love. Your so grateful that I would trust you.

As you look over all that I have brought, it seems like my burdens are gifts to you. You’re not concerned. Your hands brush over each one of them. Some you pick up, turning them around as if you are weighing the contents.

Some feel empty to you. These are the cares of the world. Things that will not bear fruit you toss away. There is no purpose to them. I believe that means you are removing them from me.

There are some that have a little weight. You show me that the weight is getting lighter as I trust them to you. You are pleased.

Some are heavy. These are my family members. You show me I don't have to keep them boxed up by worry. I can bring them right into the throne room with me. As I bring them forward to you, you dip your fingers in oil and touch their heads. I believe this is your anointing. Next you reach down with hyssop and dip it into a basin of your blood. You brush it over them as they stand with their heads tilted back and arms outstretched. I believe they are covered by your blood. I see you looking over them, at times pulling thorns out of their flesh. I believe you will heal their wounds. You take each one’s head in your hands. You whisper something in their ear and kiss their forehead. I believe you are gently speaking to them, and your love is surrounding them.

Thank you father for showing me how much this means to you when I bring all my cares to you.

Thank you for showing me how to pray for them. By Jeanne French