Remember When

Remember when we took off our shoes and walked the rocky shore in the cool Autumn air? Waves left cold salty kisses on the warm sand and we left footprints that washed away within seconds. You all charged the sea with you're clothes on, letting the frigid waves break you're fall. I stood back and smiled, talking with the rest and marveling at you're insanity.

Remember when we sat on the rocky dunes listening to the sea, as the evening sun leaked onto our skin? Thick ocean air blew, rippling our clothes gently.

Remember when we told the ocean goodnight and piled into the car? Most of you were all wet, you're teeth chattering and bodies shaking as you laughed telling yourselves it was worth it. We passed you the rice cakes and peanut butter and you made little sandwiches with them, crunching the sticky snack, while exchanging laughs and conversations that made us laugh.

Remember when we bounced for hours on that big trampoline and the little kids re-taught us games we use to play at their age? We laughed and jumped and then laughed and jumped some more, smiling at the simplicity of it all. Then we joined everyone else at the fire, talking and listening as the embers slowly put us to sleep. We wondered how something so powerful, so potentially dangerous, could have such a gentle hold on us. The stars were out, so we tilted our heads back and watched them glitter in the cool night air. Everything wasn't as it should be, in fact our troubles were piling up, but we let ourselves forget that day, soaking in every moment.
One day you'll ask me or I'll ask you if we remember when and we'll smile at the memory, looking back at how far we've come.

Carvings and Scars

You carved You're name on my heart and though the process of engraving hurt, I am forever indebted to You for this stain, this mark of love.

For years I was searching, the darkness was closing in on me. I heard You're voice in the distance, but thought I could find the way all on my own, but You stepped in and knocked me off my feet, with a push so fierce, but gentle all at once.

And now what's left of me, but a sinner decreasing gradually? I want there to be less of me, strange isn't it? I never longed for it before, but now it is my deepest desire.
Sometimes I still wander, away from You're touch, but I only think I've gone somewhere without You, for You are in me, You're mark tells me I belong in You're arms.
I run my fingers across the scar and feel You're love. You wrote it there, You're name. I can't see it with these eyes, or feel it with these hands, but the carving is there and somehow it always brings me back to You're embrace. Because You have stained me with You're love, I am forever changed and still, by You're grace unfathomable, I am changing.

I Have Time For This

Clocks move fast and I know I should be moving even faster. I'm already late, but something stops me. I don't have time for this! I tell myself, while starting for the stairs. I can't move though, I'm frozen. It's like I know that I don't even have a choice. Learn to appreciate a beautiful moment without you're camera! I preach to myself, but it doesn't work.

The shutter clicks once, then again, three times, maybe seven. Voices shout to me from lower floors, reminding me that I have to be somewhere. Okay, that's enough. I decide.

I race down the hallway, retracing my steps back to my room. I return the camera to its safe place in the bag and then slam the door behind me.

The Artist is constantly at work, splashing His creations all over everywhere, but most of the time the audience is looking in the wrong direction. It isn't that beauty has vanished, just that we are blinded to it...no, distracted from it. The sounds of ticking clocks seems to overpower the gentle whispers of His presence and sadly, we scarce think twice about it.

Were always late for something, or fighting to get there on time. Priorities build in our minds, cluttering our thoughts with the trivial things. The Artist is more than aware of this and His response is far too gracious for my mind to even grasp. His brush tickles the canvas, splashing colors and shapes everywhere. It's almost as if He were telling us to just slow down, stop and remember that He is the purpose in all of this.

Busy or not, we need to stay focused. Our main pursuit is Christ, our one desire should be to know and love Him with all of our hearts. He is a jealous God. He wants our all and we should want to give it to Him. Sure, we might have places to be or people to see, but in doing those things, let's stay awake, fully awake to the gentle whispers and reminders that He sets before us. Think about it...what if you were to cook up a feast, a massive feast. There you are, staring at the table, waiting for the ones you love to come in and enjoy it. They rush through the room, notice it briefly and then say, "I don't have time for this!" They don't even taste a bite of it, they just race through the door and leave you standing there. They don't even say thank you. 

How often do we stop to acknowledge God's creations and thank Him for the privilege of enjoying them? Have our senses become so dull to the wonder around us, that we think the fleeting treasures of this world are of greeter import? Next time you see the Artist's handiwork, stop. Say thank you. Don't just rush out the door. Tell yourself, "I have time for this." Even if you can only spare a few moments, spare it. Sharpen you're senses. Stay awake. It will change everything. It will be worth it.

"You shall not bow down to them or serve them, 

for I the LORD your God am a jealous God" ~Exodus 20:5

Faith Like A Mustard Seed

"Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee

How great Thou art, how great Thou art.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee

How great Thou art, how great Thou art."

The air is crisp and clean, I wrap my sweater a little closer and close my eyes. A smile dances its way across my cheeks and I can't help it. The birds sing endlessly, the trees ruffle softly and I feel You're nearness. It's been too long. Unbelief has been my constant companion, feeding bits of poison into my subconscious and nagging at my conscience. This heart, restless and running, gasping for breath, finally slowed down, and in those moments of quiet, the choice came. Would I entertain distraction, or fight for a moment in You're presence?
Closed toed shoes grip the wooden floor and rock the swing, slowly, back and forth. Summer has officially become a memory and thus the transition into Autumn begins. Out in the open air, it seems easier to open my heart to You. My head is cleared of manmade distractions and I breathe in You're wonders, drink in the sights and smells of tranquil surroundings.
I can't write anything decent and so I pen simplicity, preaching truths to myself, until they sink in. Ink oozes onto the page, straight from my heart, as I start to feel awake again. You put a song in my head and for some reason I search for the lyrics. In the stillness of solitude I sing them out, these marvelous words that match the happy musings on my heart. I understand it then, that it isn't about me. It isn't my world, it's Yours.
Faith comes like a waterfall when I point my eyes and heart in the right direction. Thoughts of how You created this world, man out of dust, breathed it all into existence with the sound of You're voice...these thoughts continue to wake me up. Belief builds, unbelief dies. Doubts shatter at the remembrance of You're greatness and I am filled with a joy unspeakable, one that does not depend on circumstance.

"O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder

Consider all the works thy hands have made

I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder

Thy power throughout the universe displayed."

"When through the woods, and forest glades I wander

And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees

When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur 

And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze."

"And when I think, that God His Son not sparing

Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in

That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing

He bled and died to take away my sin."

True satisfaction comes only from the saturation of mind and heart, in the person of Christ. The reality that I am here for You're purposes and not my own cannot be emphasized enough. You are the reason for all of this. You are the reason. You are the reason! How often do I get caught up in my own selfishness and then cast the blame on You for being distant? And You forgive me? Again and again, you pull me near? 

What if all of my dreams have died and continue to die? It doesn't matter. What if people let me down, over and over again? It doesn't matter. What if circumstance is ugly? It doesn't matter! You are the reason for all of this and no matter what I tell myself, it's not about me.

My faith is small, yes. It's about as impressive as a mustard seed, but I'm planting that thing in the dirt and I believe and see that it is and will continue to grow into something stronger, strong enough to tell mountains what to do and they will listen.

 He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. " ~Matthew 17:20

You Want My Brokenness

You said that it was finished, that it was completely done, but somehow it still visits me...that haunting memory of who I once was, the leftovers of a corrupted soul, evidence still sneaking its way into a redeemed life.

I can't escape it. The sights are too vivid, the wicked whispers make too much sense and I listen. Why do I listen? I clench my eyes shut, attempting to drown the thoughts that swim so skillfully, but their talents are no match for my weakness. The light casts its shine on all of my mistakes, the realities that surround me. I thirst for tomorrow, an empty slate, eyes awakening to a fresh start, and You give it to me. Why do you give it to me? 

You touch that fiery substance in the sky and carry it slowly out of sight, leaking coats of flaming orange, washing away the sins that stand before me and covering all the regrets with a blanket of darkness. Soft whispers of goodnight resound in my ears, mind, and heart as I close my eyes.

I sneak a glance ahead and smile. The strong shades of orange have been mixed with hot reds, burning the fears and failures to ash. You look at me and I am amazed that You are able to look past me. You look past me and see what You have made me. I want to look away, to hide myself, my sinful self, from Your perfect image, but Your eyes hold on to mine. You don't let go. I've let You down again, but that's not what You see. I am broken, but You love my brokenness. You have paid for it all and so I draw near to You, shaking and still so ashamed. You hold me and remind me, not who I was, but who You are and then it all becomes clear to me. I am forgiven. I let go of those nightmares, those memories of who I was and I fall. I fall into Your loving arms once more, knowing that You are forever. You won't leave me, though You have every right to. You love with a love that never lets go and You always will.

I am unstable in all my ways, a walking heartache, but You tell me that it is finished, that what You complete is completely done, and You cannot lie, and so I believe.

Click here and listen to these truths

Perspective

I wait for you. The little hands on that clock have been rolling on and on for hours and it seems endless.  Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever show yourself, and usually you don't. Often your presence graces me in morning air, but all too often you are late, you wait until dusk to arrive. Oh, but I never do complain. In all honesty, I'm just relieved that you decided to show yourself at all.

Your name is perspective and you have a funny sense of humor. We get on well at times, but you're existence is so unstable, making our relationship...well...somewhat of a challenge. I don't care too much for you when you're gone.  In fact, I despise you. Why don't you pick up on these simple hints, the looks we exchange when you stumble through that door, giving me that sly smile, in hopes that I will look over your inconsiderate behavior? Do you know how long I've waited here? Why could you not appear sooner? Are you so busy with the cares of others, melting their stress away and sprinkling inspiration on their days?

I feel the emptiness closing in, that sense of purpose wandering, slipping through the grip of my fingertips. I'd hold on to you, but it all seems so...so helpless.

I laugh, ever so slightly. Is that you, perspective? I know it isn't you, for you've made yourself a stranger. I've lost count of all the seconds that I've spent waiting for you. I know that you've been gone, all the day, someplace else, everywhere else, except here. Something drops, a weight from inside me. No, surely it wasn't you. It was my choice to do something about it, not yours. Those hours I spent waiting for you to arrive, it was my choice to leave, to end the dripping complaints, to get on with my life.

I feel the cool night air, whispering through the window and pull my sweater closer to me. I seem to notice every little pleasure this night has to offer, the frustrations of the day seem a little less important than they did earlier. I come up the stairs, walking that creaky and familiar route. The world is so still up here. Crickets have performed that very tune night after night, all summer long and I think they have finally perfected it.

Perspective? Do you arrive when you choose, or was it my actions that brought you here? I've always put it on you, all that responsibility, when in reality you are just a word. You are just a word that I can use to describe what I am doing, what I've been waiting for...this sense of trust, purpose. This peace in knowing that it will all be okay. This peek inside the studio where the Artist paints the big picture.

I think I feel it sinking in. I know I've said this before, but something's different this time. Something's changed. Don't look at me like that, as if I'm the one walking in so late. Haven't I been waiting for you all this time? Or perhaps it was me who kept you waiting. Yes, I remember. We've talked this over before, haven't we? You aren't someone I know, you're something I do. You're that choice, that discipline of thoughts and actions. Our relationship is unstable, yes, but only because I treat you as if you were some sort of inspiration, dropping in unexpectedly.

Forgive me for treating you as if you were pixie dust, a handful of magic. You are a choice. Realistic. Logical. You are there, always, unless I push you into the shadows. So come on out of there. No, you don't need to inch out slowly, I won't bite. Ah, there you are. Now I can see you, almost entirely. It's good to have you here, keeping my mind and heart awake. Ha, I was about to request that you prolong your visit, but I suppose I should be telling myself to guarantee the hospitality.

Afraid Of Fear

Some words we just don't talk about and if we do venture to discuss them it isn't in a questioning sort of manner. There is an invisible line that just can't be crossed...or can it? That line was drawn by prisoners of fear and once a single soul was held captive, the numbers only increased and the more we heard of it, the more we were convinced, fooled into bondage by the least productive myth of all time.
To be afraid is to be trapped inside a cell with key in hand. You are your own prisoner. This condition is self-inflicted, because you chose to consume the lies that satan fed you.
I know fear. It visits me often and only because it knows that I am a returning customer, weak and susceptible to its techniques. Whether its anxiety attacks that assault the physical, or distrusts of the mind that aren't even available for public discussion. I know fear and fear knows me, but there is a way for us to be strangers.
I've thought about fear in a way that questions its existence, examines the source to find that there is no source. I think on the worst thing that could possibly happen and find that I'd rather endure that one thing I am afraid of than the shaking of hands and shortness of breaths, the thoughts that eat away at my soul. I've come to the all too obvious conclusion that fear isn't necessary, its not productive. The number of verses concerning this subject is astonishing. The answer is within those leather-bound pages of scripture, and it is the only medication that will ever work. When you take a pill you might need food or water to wash it down and keep it there, but when it comes to this medicine, the words of Christ, trust is the only necessary companion for the treatment to take effect.
I am afraid of fear, but a little less than I was yesterday. It hasn't completely disappeared and not because the medication of truth is defective, but because my sinful tendency to distrust the sovereignty of God prevents it from going away completely. I try not to think about fear, but when it does revisit me I feed myself truth and I practice trust. Sometimes though, I am afraid to even think about it. I was afraid of even writing this post, pathetic as that might sound, because it would remind me, but the possibility of others with the very same "condition" led me to share these things. I know that you're out there, but I don't know if you're reading this. I pray that you are, because I want to remind you that fear is ridiculous. It doesn't accomplish anything. Think about it. Really think about it. Can't you see it? We have nothing to fear, but fear itself and God has already conquered fear, freed us of it and He tells us repeatedly, over and over again, because He knows how scared we are and He wants us to trust Him, to take refuge in Him, to live the full life, to love as if we knew nothing of hurt and run without the fear of falling.

        "The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?" ~Psalm 118:6