Introspection

ungraceful girl

stares down revelation,

motivation,

renovation,

transformation

on a wall

brick, undecorated,

for hours

outside perspectives judge

fearfulness, safety,

common misconceptions

but she wars

with her straight-backed chair

uncomfortable in her station

not because it's safer

although they might whisper

of past adventures

that inspired this current epic

of inspecting

for long enough

that the wall becomes interesting

bricks become something new

oddly shaped pebbles strewn

with purpose and plan

amongst mortar streams

moving waves that question

who am I?

the answer is water.

I am a spring, and He is the well.

5, 4, 3, 2...

Again, the tightrope beckons.

Stretched over fine cirrus and cumulonimbus,

I wait.

For the almost to be finished.

I have waited forever,

Perfectly positioned,

For this leap of faith.

I am pulled taunt-

Potential energy on the brink of kinetic.

The countdown begins,

And I prepare for combustion.

2 Corinthians 3:18

"And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit."

Contrary to my typical perception, I am not some semi-alright, somewhat stained, in-process individual on the road to perfection. We've gotta stop bashing the work that Christ has already done internally, and embrace the fact that His grace made us lovely the moment we accepted it.

If we're being transformed from glory to glory, we are already glorious.

My soul groans

It starts slowly.

A single rain drop slides slowly down my limp arm. It's trail is finite. It splits into fractals before sending an impulse through my neurons. I shiver involuntarily, and shock imprints awareness.

It is raining.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Bullets fall from the sky and each hits its target. I know that this liquid drenching my t-shirt must be my own blood. Or perhaps it is just ground water evaporated and condensed. Either way, the storm prophesies a coming war.

Who is this lonely soldier abandoning comfort? Why do my hands lift to catch rain-blood? What am I that I would embrace thunder and lightening?

My soul groans.

Collision is such a descriptive word, but no word can capture the sound of it. If only I could tell you. Maybe cover a canvas in the correct array of acrylics in the correct composition in the correct tonality in the correct hue and put it in the correct frame. But I hear it now. And I don't know where to begin a painting.

Paradox: Sanctification sure is exhausting

Let's begin here:

The Gospel

The Gospel is ultimate truth, and make no mistake, Jesus came in ultimate humility. This is a mystery. There is nothing in me that should move the Holy, Righteous, God to come and ransom me. But I know that a God my mind can comprehend is incapable of saving it. I do not preach things that I totally understand, and for that I thank Jesus that the infinite Lord of the universe looks upon me with mercy. Still, I feel compelled to share this revelation.

1. God's Wrath and Love are not separate.

Jesus' death on the cross did not change God it changed the situation. The New Testament and the Old Testament speak of the SAME, unchanging God. He is NOT tamed. He is both the lion and the lamb. He is a saving warrior who is angry with sin and makes war on evil.

Wrath is not a fit of rage or vengeful anger.

Wrath is a hatred of injustice and a ferocious desire to right what is wrong. It is God's resolute action in punishing sin.

All of this is born out of God's character. His hatred of injustice... His fierceness.

God is love. Often we define God by our CONCEPT of love... which is twisted. Human concepts of love don't define untamable God, but it is GOD himself that defines true love.

True love does not allow injustice. True love writes wrongs. True love punishes evil.

Romans 1:18-25, 1 John 4:7-9

2. Christians should not shy away from suffering.

God disciplines disobedience. Discipline is painful.

Obedience is choosing to pick up our cross. The cross is painful.

"The rod is imposed without the consent of the one who suffers it, The cross cannot be imposed by another. Even Christ bore the cross by His own free choice. He said of the life He poured out on the cross. 'No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself' (John 10:18)" The only compulsion He knew was the compulsion of love. Chastisement is an act of God; cross carrying an act of the Christian. The cross is the suffering the Christian endures as a consequence of obedience. In the way of obedience stands the cross. But the Father's love is not more or less, wherever we may be. God chastens us not that He may love us but because he loves us. Jonah in flight from the will of God suffered no worse storm than Paul in the center of God's will. When tribulation comes we have but to note whether it is imposed or chosen. (matthew 5:11)" -A.W. Tozer The Radical Cross

3. Focusing on Jesus' return will keep you hopeful.

I'll just bust out the Bible:

Titus 2:11-15 "The grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good. These, then, are the things you should teach. Encourage and rebuke with all authority. Do not let anyone despise you."

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11 "Now, brothers, about times and dates we do not need to write to you, for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, "Peace and safety," destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you, brothers, are not in darkness so that this day should surprise you like a thief. You are all sons of the light and sons of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness. So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be alert and self-controlled. For those who sleep, sleep at night, and those who get drunk, get drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, let us be self-controlled, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet. For God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. He died for us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with him. Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing."

That's what I'm learning. Sanctification sure is exhausting.

Being as tall as possible

Strain

Tip toed

Face to the stars

Palms tensed

Fingers grasping

At what may

Or may not

Be in the heavens

It's painful

Like a deep stretch

I am purified

In each moment I endure

Without strain

There is no strength

Sometimes

I forget

What I am reaching for

But my muscles are locked

I will persevere

If only to overcome distraction

Born Again, The Hope of New Life: John 3:1-8

Monday, June 29, 2009

I am a wanderer.

Always have been.

My soul craves movement. It’s a compulsion that pulls my heart and mind involuntarily. I guess you could say that it’s like the wind. New friends, new jobs, new places, new ways of speaking, new clothes, new hair, new books, new music, new revelation... all subconscious leanings born out of a groaning spirit.

At first I categorized these impulses as personality defects that needed to be corrected, but I’ve discovered that, like Paul, I die daily.

The truth is, my heart is undergoing radical transformation during every second of this fleeting life. It’s not a mystery why my desires, personality, and understanding constantly shift... it’s Jesus.

How can I be so blind? I’ve been seeking out the answer to why I’ve felt distant and inadequate when all along he’s been showing me that it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve lied.

It doesn’t matter that I’m forgetful.

It doesn’t matter that I am inconsiderate.

It doesn’t matter that I crave attention.

It doesn’t matter that I hold my theology above others.

It doesn’t even matter that I frequently forget to praise my creator.

I can confess these things because I don’t have to build a reputation with God.

My salvation isn’t a come and go deal. It’s not a breakable covenant. Although I am like the wind (John 3:8), Christ is a rock. Unconditional love means that nothing I do or don’t do makes me less captivating to Jesus. I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.

This newness isn’t even true newness. I’ve had this awakening before.

I’m being born again.

I can’t count the times that I have fallen in love with Jesus. The last time was passionate but fleeting. I read Song of Songs and was enthralled by his desire for me, and it was no wonder I couldn’t help but love him back.

But it was short lived. I could feel myself lose interest. I could see myself trading love for him for love for earthly attention. It wasn’t long until I lost my appetite for his voice, and I slipped slowly into a world of silence.

I felt hopeless without him. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I was striving and chasing him, but I don’t think that until tonight I submitted fully to his love. Up until tonight it was about me... what I had to do to make him love me... what I was doing wrong. The barriers hindering my surrender were of my own making.

But I heard him speak tonight.

I’ve always thought that the most beautiful sound was the name of Jesus, but now I know that if it is him talking, the most breathtaking sound is my name.

He takes my name, one of wandering, one of shame, one of sorrow, one of evil, and he speaks it as if it is precious.

It’s like he loves me.

All of a sudden here I am, infatuated with the one who loves me more, writing of his grace and mercy. I can’t help it. It’s more than hope in my chest. This explosion is one of faith, and it was inspired by love. I don’t hope that he loves me. I know that he does. I can’t explain it.

When he whispered my name I was standing in the rain watching clouds reflect in the gentle waves of a lake. I could hear him call me onto the water. My trust is so fleeting, and my excuses are always ridiculous. My shoes were new. If I fell in, I would have to drive home in wet jeans. No one was around to rescue me if I fell into deep water.

So, with a broken heart, I left the lake.

Anguish momentarily consumed me as I shamefully tried to hide from the one who I had rejected, terrified that I would lose the voice that spoke my name like he loved me. I didn’t make it all the way up the driveway home before he looked down on me, a silly girl, and smiled adoringly.

His love is strong.

I had forgotten the cross. Although I had been talking about it and thinking about it, the foundations of my faith had slowly fallen into disrepair. I was so consumed with “newness” that I didn’t recognize that there is nothing new under the sun, and this constant movement is a dance with the holy spirit.

Together, we are like the wind.

He leads me through valleys that I appreciate mountain views. He brings me into winter that I am not contented in summer. He dulls my eyes with storm clouds that I can focus all of my senses on the deep sound of his thunder.

I can see it now. I’ve died, but I’m alive again.

Sunday, August, 16 2009

It's been a while since that day and I'll be honest, my passion has been waning. Still, I hold fast to the One who holds fast to me. I've been reading "My Utmost for His Highest" and a few days ago I read this:

"The answer to the question "how can a man be born when he is old?" is- When he is old enough to die-to die right out to his "rag rights," to his virtues, to everything, and to receive into himself the life which never was there before. The new life manifests itself in conscious repentance and unconscious holiness." -Oswald Chambers

Worship Saturday Night

I know that God defies physics and the laws of man because when my soul is near his heart, and I close my eyes, gravity doesn't exist. Sonic pulses and sound waves rock my body and my mind spins in dizzy circles. My teeth shake against each other and my hands tremble.

I can feel him knocking on my spirit with deep reverberations crashing in my chest. The swaying is involuntary, but I like it. The total sensory immersion begins with violin and bass then flows into the fragrance of lilies and incense. His people are stomping and vibrations shake the ground.

Silence becomes shocking and unsettling as I taste and see that You, My Lord, are good.