Thus says the Lord

When you were younger,

you believed my every word.

We traversed the garden together,

and we saw the four corners of the world.

We walked through the dense forests,

where we mimicked the singing birds.

We relaxed beside still waters,

and dipped our toes into its cold shores.

We climbed up the highest peaks,

and played in the freshly fallen snow.

Oh, how I remember the devotion of your youth.

Your love as a bride,

how you followed me into the wilderness,

In a land not just yet sown.

But the things of this earth became too familiar,

and you outgrew what you once had known.

You no longer see me as your husband,

your provider, or your home.

I wish I could give you everything that you asked for,

without it causing you to spoil.

I wish I could share with you my abundant knowledge,

without your pride taking over.

I wish I could show you all the riches and treasures of this land, without you clinging to them as your Savior.

I want to show you all that I’ve created,

and all that I behold.

But you have become self-centered, and if I did,

you would no longer call me Lord.

You have robbed me of the ability to take care of you.

The blessing of my hands,

turn to weapons when you hold them.

You misuse them, abuse them,

idolize them, and worship them.

You leave me with no other choice,

but to withhold from you your promised inheritance.

For when I give you food for your stomach,

you divide it unequally among the masses.

A few of you become gluttons,

while the rest are made anemic.

When I bless your nations with possessions,

a greedy few keep it for themselves,

and the rest are left to live as peasants.

Night after night, I hear your screams and cries for help.

Do you know what that does to me?

As your father?

Do you think I enjoy watching my children suffer?

You cry to me for healing.

Yet you won’t receive my remedy.

You turn to witches, healers, and doctors.

You take all the other drastic measures.

You accuse me of being silent.

Yet you’ve never read my 66 love letters.

I speak to you unceasingly.

Yet you shrug it off as just the wind whistling.

When I make your path straighter,

You thank the pagan Gods,

You become lazy and in the relief of it all,

you let your guard down for the devils claws.

I am omnipresent, I am not bound by time or space.

I experience it all equal and the same.

But you, you are confined by the past,

the preset and the future.

Your three states of existence

all desire and demand different things from me.

No matter what I do or say, one of your hurting.

For unlike me, you are inconsistent,

and you often go against your own word.

But I am reason. I am just.

I am holy, loving and pure.

I know you lack the foresight to see what’s coming.

Therefore, I will take your every scoff.

Your angry, bitter, painful cries-

which blame me for all your faults.

I will endure your silent treatment,

and intentional defiance.

I won’t let your insults or rejection,

cause me to reject you from my presence.

For I cut a covenant with you,

before you left your mother’s womb.

Though you leave my side,

I will never leave yours.

Your feet may take you far and wide,

but my spirit still dwells safe inside.

I understand that my mark on you,

has set you too far apart.

It causes you to feel alone,

removed and hopelessly lost.

You will only ever feel cursed,

if you look at this in the wrong light.

If you try to attain this world,

my discipline will be a sharp knife.

Please, my child, look at what I’ve done like so:

You are consecrated, holy, divine and purposeful.

No amount of normality, meekness or humanity can ever drown this out.

Your heart was made to follow me.

It will beat out of rhythm,

and send pain through your nervous system,

if you try to force it to enjoy the things of earthly origin.

Woman

I am not a delicate, meadow flower.

Meek, frail, and small.

I am not a soft-spoken, shy,

little, quiet, Christian girl.

The purpose of my life,

is not to simply “survive”.

To avoid all temptation, to stay pure,

or to leave this world unscathed and unharmed.

I do not seek after a secure life,

a supportive husband,

or the ideal nuclear family home.

I crave for the unseen,

the unknown, and the spiritual.

I am Woman.

I am Gods chosen elite.

I am an emissary of Christ,

and hes given me a warrior’s mentality.

I carry the weapons forged by the Lord.

I fight on the front lines of a battle,

that most men do not have the eyes to

see or the awareness to acknowledge.

I do not lay awake at night,

consumed by the cares of this world.

I do not worry or toil over shelter,

bills to be paid, or food on the table.

I keep awake well after dusk,

and rise before the early morning;

To intercede for the lost,

the oppressed, and the hurting.

I am Woman.

My heart is soft, my skin is tough,

and my spirit is unbreakable.

I can take a hit, and many more,

if it means I can buy some time for a soul

to recoup in the midst of their greatest battle.

I will rise up where no other man has the guts to stand.

Ill spread my wings like a mother hen,

and shelter all those who are in need of protection.

Like a mother bear,

I will lay down my life for another;

for my brothers and my sisters,

and for the orphaned child.

My price is not determined,

by that seen in the silver reflection.

A photo taken, or a compliment given.

My beauty is rooted in my steadfast faith,

Godly fear and unwavering mind.

I am Woman.

I am the Kings chosen bride.

I am fully surrendered, and I stand at this right-hand side.

I respond to his call, and follow his lead.

I am a vessel out of which his anointing oil pours out for all to world see.

respond to me not

The things of the flesh,

those little objects and living figures.

They cause my soul to ache,

as I behold their fickle features.

For if my eyes glazed over,

if my ears shut,

or if my skin lost its sense of touch.

All that lays before me,

would be no more valuable than dust.

How perilous it is,

to put my hope into this world.

For if at any moment,

my senses gave way,

so too would my joy.

But you God,

you are not confined to my ability

to see, smell, taste, hear or feel.

How relieving it is to know,

that the measure to which I experience you,

is not defined by the variables,

of my decaying shell.

The breadth to which I know you,

will surely expand and grow.

My hunger for your presence will not cease,

though i’m surrounded by great riches and spoils.

I will not fear when the world crumbles apart.

When chaos is aroused,

or when humanity loses its benevolence.

I will praise you for I know your foundation is secure.

That your goodness is greater than that which is observed.

You are permanent, steadfast, and pure.

In a world driven by entropy,

you are never changing.

In a world whose light source is dimming,

your flame forever burns evenly.

As a holy man once noted:

“Dark implies light,

Death implies life,

Self implies other”

So my broken heart implies wholeness.

So my hunger implies fullness.

So my aching soul implies solace.

So my shortcomings and mishaps,

imply that there is one who will honor his promises.

Let me not be driven by my flesh, mind or heart.

Let my body rot in the ground for all that I care.

But let my soul be awake,

sober-minded and fully able,

to know that you are God,

unchaining and forever stable.

Respond to me not because of my pleading cries or confused mind.

Move not because my doubtful thoughts are in need of a desperate sign.

Make not my path straight because I have become sloth-like.

Show me not your face because I question the divine.

Hold back from me all that you have,

if its only your safety that i’m seeking.

Keep me in the cold darkness,

until I no longer rely on my cravings.

Show me what its like,

to have a void so expansive,

that only you can replete it.

Show me how to find rest in you,

in the midst of endless wandering.

Show me that I can feel full,

even when my stomach is empty.

Show me how to live by the spirit,

and not let my flesh get the best of me.

rose

Our love was a rose,

I tore from the garden.

So beautiful at first,

till it withered away.

Oh, there’s nothing left

but my thorn-pricked fingers,

and our memory-infused petals

on the floorboard.

How everything I knew and adored,

quickly oxidized and fell apart.

I thought I could take your spirit with me,

and still walk the earth how I saw fitting.

You told me to stay grounded where you placed me,

but our connection snapped at the stem when I took off running.

The only stars I see,

are from the dizzy spells which send me spinning.

Your charm and beautiful lights,

have become sunspots in my eyes.

I cannot believe what we have become,

nor do I fully understand the wrongs I have done.

The painful pricks and crunchy bud,

are a reminder that our love will not withstand,

unless I am grafted back into your holy branch.

blue depression

scol2.gif

My spirit is unable,

to exercise discernment.

It cannot recognize the truth,

in the midst of great deception.

Like a broken glass prism,

beveled in the wrong direction,

it cannot disperse the visible colors,

from their single-slit origin.

My spirit’s visible spectrum,

is reduced down to a dull blue depression.

My world is nothing more,

than gradients of grey,

in a tarnished silver reflection.

Let your white light breach,

the gelatinous domed surface,

of these hindered veiled eyes,

stuck in the violet chromatic spectrum.

Hit me with your longer wavelengths,

expose me to your bright and yellow pigments.

Amaze me with your glorious red flames,

and send sparks within my iris.

Awake my color blind eyes,

to your rainbow-lit refraction.

Show me once again,

what these eyes were made to distinguish.

Show me once again,

what my spirit was meant to encompass.

cross-legged

I want to start off our conversations, with a mere and simple “hi”.

And not lead them off with a “Dear Father” or end them with my cries.

I refuse to only speak to you, when I’m lost or in dire need.

Nor will I only praise your name, after good times comes to me.

I hate to only hear your voice, when you’re warning me from wrong.

Why must all the signs you give, solely caution me from harm?

I love to hear your soughing voice, to sense it’s unique tone.

Or study the letters you wrote to me, to admire their careful strokes.

I approach you not from pride, or for my own selfish gain.

I refuse to reduce you down to a moral map and piggy bank.

Do not be to me, a distant or latent being.

One who only manifests himself, within my wishful thinking.

You are more to me than my fickle thoughts, which echo through these hollow walls.

Is your ability to speak to me, confined through the preached word?

I want something more, than to vicariously feel your presence, amongst the giant herd.

Must you have to send your notes to me, through a little bird?

For once your message comes to me, it’s become so very blurred.

Just this once let my eyes behold, your strong mightn’t frame.

They long to trace around your divinely lit-up face.

Let’s share some common frequencies, and sing a wordless harmony.

It need not follow a rhythm, or reveal a common theme.

May we sit down here cross-legged, and enjoy one another’s company?

spiritual fatigue

Can you see the wick? Of my burnt-out soul.

Like an overused candle,the wax is all gone.

Can you see the wick?

My sooted, calloused heart,

has no more coal to keep its warmth.

Like a cooled-off ember,

my spirit’s light no longer shows.

Can you see the rising smoke? From my bitter, anguished cries.

Which rise like billows of ash, to meet your gazing sight.

Can you see the smoke?

My fractured, feeble mind,

lacks all truth to discern what’s right.

Like a covered lantern,

my thoughts are drowned out by lies.

Oh, when will you give me, the wax, oil and coal, to reignite my stifled soul?

I didn’t prepare for this journey. I didn’t count the cost.

Nor did I consider that my whole world would soon turn to dark.

Does not the smoke burn your eyes?

Or my faded ember make you shiver?

How can I praise you if all that’s left of me, is no more than a pillar?

Or how can I help the lost find their path, when my light itself, I no longer have?

Rekindle my flame, so that I may bring you glory and honor.

For your names sake, don’t let my spirit falter.

swallow my pride

Call me to your thrown,

I know I’ve sinned today.

Rid me of myself,

my head hangs low.

Call me to your arms,

for I’ve been gone for far too long.

I need your grace,

before it’s too late.

I’m sensing the end is near,

I can smell it in the air.

Like a storm on the horizon,

I know I’m not okay.

Death is near and I,

am struggling to swallow my pride.

For once this will of my to live,

Is the source of all my sin.

If I don’t let go,

I’ll regret it forever.

Yet I can’t find a way to uncurl my fingers.

My death grip on this life,

Is the source of all my crime.

For the fear of letting go,

has become my single woe.

bind my feet

This wondering spirit inside,

has left me empty and deserted.

I plead to you, I cry, “take from me my eyes”.

To you, I cry, “take from me my life”.

I won’t finish this race.

I fear that my legs will lead me astray.

I am scared that my eyes will take heed from the wrong light.

My wavering spirit has kept me from the righteous path.

So how shall I continue, knowing I’ll only ever know your wrath?

Please lord, bind my feet, and carry me along the road.

I’m scared of my own will, I’m scared it will win, the wrestle against your call.

Take from me the gift of free will,

and the ability to self-provide.

Oh please, bind my feet.

For I’d rather be a slave inside,

than wander around and know that i’m not alright.

what if I..

Will you please, rapture me?

What if I never come to know,

your will for my soul?

What if I come to the end,

in vain of my redemption?

What if I never truly find, all you’ve hidden inside?

What if I never truly know you in this life?

I’m in hell already, God,

If I don’t know you now.

What if I leave your side,

and withdraw farther than your mercy extends?

What if I become so paralyzed,

that I can no longer sense your guidance?

For this please, rapture me.

Before my heart grows cold,

and ceases to love you, Lord.

Bring to me my end,

while i’m still running strong.

Cut my time off short,

while you only, do I long for.

landslides

My soul it sings, “The king is coming”.

Who am I, to disagree? The king is coming.

Who am I, to stop his will? The king is coming.


His landslides- there’s no where to hide.

His currents- are taking me under again.

The weight of my sin, is causing my bones to crack and bend.

Oh earth, how you have forsaken me.

All I’ve known you to be, is nothing more than a scheme.

The mountains no longer stand high.

The valley’s now reach the sky.

The rivers no longer flow,

and the trees won’t shelter the crows.

The author and creator, is entering into his creation.

The strokes within his painting, stand still with anticipation.

The director has stepped onto the stage, and the play is now over.

Our savior has returned, but in him have I found favor?

void

I’m afraid to show you my void.

For what if all you have to give me,

is not enough to fill me?

I’d rather keep up my walls,

and be stuck within alone,

then to have your presence near me,

and still be left feeling empty.

There is comfort in my darkness,

and paralyzing fear.

Or at least that’s what the devil continues to whisper in my ear.

For I know my circling thoughts,

will never leave me bare.

Nor will the darkness ever revel the true color of my tears.

How shall I lay down these demons,

without a promised substance for which to replace them?

Or how shall I emerge from these bushes,

when my confidence has been so shaken?

soul tie

I’m stuck under the wrong soul.

My heartstrings are playing the wrong song.

I’m stuck under the wrong soul.

I’m falling deeper down the rabbit hole.

He has become my greatest woe,

and I lack the strength to let him go.

My spirit is pleading within me, “cut off the ties from he”.

I’m trying to find my solid ground,

and place my shaking foot down.

But we’ve got these two bleeding hearts,

caught in the middle, of a covenant that just won’t hold.

Lord, you were the only one I used to know.

You were the only one I used to call my home.

But now this soul tie, this mental war inside,

has me second guessing your original design.

I’m suffocating, I cannot find my way back to you, God.

My mind- it’s no longer mine.

My emotions- take me to foreign places.

I’m held bound, and my heart aches with the night.

I’m fighting with myself.

My soul is split between two results.

No matter what I choose,

my seam will tear too deep to sew.

talk me down

Talk me down tonight, God.

There’s a war inside my mind.

These thoughts they spin me round,

and I’ve lost my solid ground.

Break through my walls, and calm down my panicked heart.

I am wrecked from the inside out,

and I need you now more than ever.

My soul and body are at war,

but through the promise of your word,

I won’t fight this war alone.

I will forever give you glory.

I will carry your presence across the surface of the earth.

Oh God- you renew my soul.

Oh Savior- you’ll never let me go.

Oh Father- you rewrite my greatest wrongs.

Oh Jesus- you calm down the raging storm.

Emmanuel- my redeemer.

Yeshua- my healer.

permanent sanctuary

I am not a temporary home,

or just a pit-stop for the Lord.

I don’t have to “catch the wave”,

as he passes by.

I am his permanent sanctuary.

He bought me to live inside.

* * *

He paid an obnoxious price,

for my graffiti-ridden, weathered homestead.

My foes told him that’d he be better off to burn his wallet,

than to buy my house which couldn’t even shelter the homeless.

They accused him of ignorance,

insanity and carelessness.

He sold all of his possessions,

and spent every minute of his time,

building his new palace, out of all my broken pieces.

He refused to believe,

that my worth was predetermined,

by the little cardboard sign,

that was posted on my curbside,

and read “FREE- abandoned”.

Its now impossible to believe,

that I was the eye-sore on the street,

but because of his crafters hands,

my house stands mighty and most-grand.

delay for me

Will you talk to me? Please, call for me.

The fear has settled in.

The devil strained my once solid faith,

through his sifting-pan.

Will you come to me? Please, run to me.

My boat will capsize soon.

The anchor that once held me soul,

will not live to see next noon.

Will you wait for me? Please, delay for me.

I am making my way to you.

I’m stepping out from this sinking boat,

in search to find the truth.

Will you leave for me, a sign for me?

For your footprints are unseen.

These stormy waters, do not hold unto,

the impressions of your feet.

… more than this war …

There’s no turning back

yet my past continues to haunt me

What if I never find my way?

Will my sorry be enough

to keep me in your safety?

Even though I harm myself

you scream out that i’m worthy

Even though I cannot stand

my reflection or the works of my hands

you remind me of who I am

that your spirit dwells within me

I will chose to believe your word

that i’m more than this war

that burns like flaming coals

inside my wayward soul

This battle within,

is just the result of man-made sin

But through the precious word

I am promised my redemption

sweet incense

You have paid the price.

Yet I lay here, unchanged, unmoved.

You have called me from the blood-stained cross.

Yet I stay here, unchanged, unmoved.

Oh, how you have paid the price so that I may freely love you.

But that fails to be enough, to cause my weighted soul to move.

 

Please, take my will and my life.

I can longer steward the two.

Don’t, waste your time.

Trying to herd me with the group.

Instead, set me aside as a holy sacrifice.

I am not like the other sheep, who hearken to your call.

They stay by your side, through the passing plains and seasons change.

But I always find i’m lost inside the devils blinding smog.

I am a sheep that is good for no other purpose,

but to release its sweet incense upon the surface,

of this burning alter for which I lay,

and wait for your killing strike,

to bring to pass my humble grave.

Let the smoke rise and warn all those,

who are tempted to turn and run from home.

Let it remind them to stay beside your rod and staff,

and to not stray far from your guided path.

last tick-mark

You lead me to my bed at night,

and safety guard my door.

You give to me, restful dreams,

and chuckle at my snores.

You wait for me to rise awake,

to sing to me your songs.

You walk with me, throughout my day,

to share with me your thoughts.

Your heart it cries and breaks for me,

when my feet fall from the road,

But just like those, scattered seeds,

your mercies are deeply sown.

I’ll weep many, countless tears,

but you will keep your spirit near.

For just as your begotten son,

my fickle heart, will be stretched and wrung.

Although you long to take me home,

I will stay to save the ones you love.

I know these days will bring great pain,

but its worth it all, for your eternal name.

My heartbeat is a ticking clock,

one that tocks until the last tick-mark.

My lungs they wheeze, sigh and groan,

for air alone, they just wont hold.

Once my flesh is used, beat and worn,

I will return to you, as one restored.

But until that day, you’ll hold me close,

so that in the end we will rejoice.