Saturday, December 18, 2010

Heal

There has been a divine work of grace in this frail life. I was born in sin, and in sin my mother conceived me. No goodness possessed, even from childhood, only depravity and darkness.

 

But the light of grace was sent as a burning sign upon me. I am marked. Chosen for redemption, by merit not my own, but by the infinite worth of he who bore the fullness of my transgression in love, declaring me to be right and blameless, Jesus Christ.

 

רָפָא

 

  Rapha'. Hebrew, to heal, to repair. As Elijah repaired the Lord's altar, so the Lord has repaired my broken life. Healed cracks, mended tears. Purified, as a refining blaze melts and separates for itself pure gold.

 

Oh, such mercy has captivated my eyes! He has healed my eyes, " Turn my eyes away from worthless things; preserve my life according to your word.", he has renewed my mind to dwell in purity, he has restored my ears to hear his song.

 

What power and strength in this cleansing work of the master! A turning of my eyes from corruption, to the incorruptible, a transformation of my mind, from deathly dullness to sharp true-ness and direction, a replacement of my heart of stone with a beating, breathing core of life and warmth.

 

“Therefore say: ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: I will gather you from the nations and bring you back from the countries where you have been scattered, and I will give you back the land of Israel again.’

 

 “They will return to it and remove all its vile images and detestable idols. I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh. Then they will follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. They will be my people, and I will be their God."

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Wait - Pt. 2

The word is tarry. Now almost antiquated, rarely arising to be noticed or thought upon. To tarry in his presence. To persevere in pursuit, to stoke desire. What would you do, to know him? What would you put aside to hear his voice?


I’m not talking about devotion. I’m talking about desperation. About sacrifice. Tarry is the opposite of budget, apportion, make time for, pencil in. To tarry is being found on knees that are afraid to leave the presence. Desperate that God’s presence go with you, torn by the idea of having to leave that moment.

To be marked by a longing, evidence of mourning in the absence and ecstasy in the fullness alike. To be convinced that we cannot so much as take a breath without him!

 

Where aspirations, ambitions, dreams and desires are all thrown to the wind, and shed, all energy being concentrated into a sharp focus, a singular passion that your life, your very demeanor shouts:

 

I. Must. Know. God.

 

"What is your vision? Life goals? Where will you be in five years? How will you do it?"


well, I'm going to pray. and seek him.

 

What a weak, foolish, beautiful thing! To defy the American dream, where we can accomplish whatsoever great, admirable thing we put our mind to, our resources behind and our belief in.

 

But instead, we are led into God's dream of conforming us to Jesus Christ through our knowledge of him in intimacy, and this stunningly beautiful pursuit has the power to transform the entire world in the process!

 

Our God is as a loyal, faithful lover, burning with jealous, righteous longing for each of us, his bride, who truly belong to him; how great the mercies and love will he lavish on us when we run into his arms!

Friday, December 10, 2010

Wait - part 1

 

The walk of faith is one of waiting. More often, learning to wait. A trusting that, without the voice of God, we are lost and wander aimlessly, in futility.


We have forgotten. We have lost the ability and knowledge of serenity. When so many things scream at us for action, beseeching us for priority and begging our instant attention.


When so many desires burn for gratification and feelings cry for satisfaction.


And we are afraid. We are afraid to deny, afraid to wait. Afraid to die.


A lost opportunity, a moment escaped to never be found. All pleading for us.


To give in to desire, we are in ourselves deceived because we believe that we will miss something. But what is it that we miss?


We miss God.


As a lover’s eye becomes fixed, and a world transformed, shaped around the person, the deepness of God’s heart burns for our reckless pursuit of him. A foolish pursuit, an entire shift in focus. A constant thought and creation inspiring great mysteries, compelling great actions. Provoking great longing.

We fall in joy into a new realm of wonder and begin to speak new language, so foreign to our hearts yet so convicting in its purity and strength. We feel home.


But the two melodies grapple, searching for reconciliation, resolution. Communion.


Where the world says ‘take control’, God says ‘let go control’.

Where the world says ‘speak’, God says ‘listen’.

Where the world says ‘achieve, accomplish, follow ambition’, God says ‘believe, surrender, follow my  voice.’

Where the world says ‘assume command of your own destiny’, God says ‘I am your destiny.’

 

“One word will do”, says the LORD.


(to be continued)

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Alone

I believe that when we set aside time and make it a priority to withdraw and to be alone with God, we open up a new reservoir of inner, spiritual strength that we are able to drink deeply of, and thus emerge from the private wilderness into the public life with newfound courage, purpose and joy. When we meet God in the secret place, the wilderness of fasting and prayer, we truly encounter his being in a way that we would not otherwise experience in day to day activities. It is this newfound, fresh, intimately absorbed knowledge of God that we then live out in our respective walks. I know that if we can stand before God himself, being alone with the King of Glory, we can also stand powerfully and courageously before any person in this world in the knowledge of the victories of Christ and the transcendent majesty of our Savior God.

 

 

Alone

I believe that when we set aside time and make it a priority to withdraw and to be alone with God, we open up a new reservoir of inner, spiritual strength that we are able to drink deeply of, and thus emerge from the private wilderness into the public life with newfound courage, purpose and joy. When we meet God in the secret place, the wilderness of fasting and prayer, we truly encounter his being in a way that we would not otherwise experience in day to day activities. It is this newfound, fresh, intimately absorbed knowledge of God that we then live out in our respective walks. I know that if we can stand before God himself, being alone with the King of Glory, we can also stand powerfully and courageously before any person in this world in the knowledge of the victories of Christ and the transcendent majesty of our Savior God.

 

 

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Journey




The broad, wide road is straight, quick, barren. Like a paved highway with gates and rails.
Steel and asphalt. Lifeless. we can see all the way to the end, without mystery or expectation.

But the narrow road is a quaint little dirt path, twisting, turning, overgrown. full of life. Slender plants, towering trees,  jagged rocks, stunning flowers, twirling vines all accompany this trail of discovery. The path rises and falls. Like En Gedi. An ascent weaving through bubbling streams and shady thickets, misting waterfalls and rapid brooks.  We usually can't see that far ahead, even just around the corner; we don't know where the trail leads or where the journey will take us; there is always something novel and surprising waiting. Who knows what we'll find, or who we'll meet? Something new, something different. something breathtaking.




We change so much, but don't always realize it. The fact is, that when we encounter the living God, everything changes.

Everything that we are now and becoming; everything that we would not have been, having not been encountered by God, this the dramatic, transformative change that we can't always see, and aren't always aware of.

Friday, October 22, 2010

inner music

  
Download now or listen on posterous
2a.mp3 (6989 KB)

sometimes I love to sit down and just play the piano. I let a flow establish. I try and translate thoughts and feelings into the music, but often the translation isn't perfect, things are lost, or just unable to be embodied. nevertheless, it soothes a soul at times, and unwinds a mind. Music that has never been created before, and will never be created again. I've started to preserve these candid minutes. You are welcome to join me in the journey.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

inner music

  
Download now or listen on posterous
2a.mp3 (6989 KB)

sometimes I love to sit down and just play the piano. I let a flow establish. I try and translate thoughts and feelings into the music, but often the translation isn't perfect, things are lost, or just unable to be embodied. nevertheless, it soothes a soul at times, and unwinds a mind. Music that has never been created before, and will never be created again. I've started to preserve these candid minutes. You are welcome to join me in the journey.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Untitled

Adonai: ‎"You're outnumbered... You need more men."
Brent: "There are none."
Adonai: "There are those who dwell in the mountain."


Brent: "Murderers! Traitors! You would call upon them to fight? They believe in nothing. They answer to no one."
Adonai: "They will answer to the King."


Adonai: ‎"..., Flame of the West, forged from the shards"
Brent: "he will not have forgotten the sword... The blade that was broken shall return"

Adonai: "The man who can wield the power of this sword can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth... Become who you were born to be. Take the Road."

Adonai: "I give hope to men."
Brent: "I keep none for myself."

Indeed I am outnumbered. I have only a small fellowship that is with me. The task seems hopelessly huge. The history grievous, the hearts of stone immovable.

The mountain...

Where I was once a citizen. Indeed I am a murderer, a traitor. I fors ook the King, and deserved death, judgment, eternal fire. The others in the mountain,
they remain dead, truly believing nothing, answering only to the selfish desires. My Lord tells me, "They will answer to the King." I take his Word! He calls
the dead men to life, the traitors to loyalty and the murderers to repentance. He called me, and gave me...

The sword...

A flame from the west, ignited and blazing with zeal. Itself sharp, double edged, forged, tempered with shards of the broken man.
My enemy indeed has not forgotten the Sword that crippled him. The Sword that defeated him. The broken made whole, will return.


Yet would I wield that Eternal Sword, having the strength to grasp it! or the compassion...

Summoned to me would be the deadliest army this world has ever seen. More than any of the earth. They, we, are not of this world. I must become who I was born to be. I will walk the road...


He gives hope to us.  I wil l keep none for myself, yet share it with all, for all must know of t his great hope...

        The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

A little alliterative caterpillar

One idyllic day, in a charmingly diminutive wood laced with shady greens and flowers bloomed, stood a minuscule egg. Woven to rusty snaky branches, swaying in whispering winds and breathing breeze, perfectly contented in sleepy dream and reverie; bliss in tranquil emerald timber. But at last, the time came, for the small sleeper to suddenly awake from slumber long, to break forth from the egg’s scaly dull sheath, into new colors, light and air, new world of heights and rainbow vision; new weaving paths and sharp life! The curious caterpillar carefully crept along the novel crawl-way of tree, taking in sights and sensations never known, auburn vibrations in an ambient forest, striking senses slyly. The carefree caterpillar crunched on flavorful foliage of jade and lime, growing bolder and broader as the wooded world slowly shrunk.


As night drew nigh, a tired, puffy, weary caterpillar inched to inevitable immobility, spinning a silky silhouette; a temporary tomb trapped our friend.

Sleeping, dreaming once more, caterpillar’s chrysalis crowned the wooden watchtower, waiting in womb for wakening. A transformation was stirring in silent twilight as the stars peeked through the leaves to fix gaze upon a little crypt of mysteries. For age and eon the night slept on, but as dawn drew near; our friend stirred surreptitiously in the sinewy stocking.

The Caterpillar craved freedom, squirming and squalid in the cocoon of captivity; breaking out would prove a bittersweet battle. Dawn rose over the dim wood, fog and dew covered the forest in blue diamonds’ refracting rays. Blades stretched to sunlight, shaking dry their slender stalks.

 

The cocoon quaked, quivers of rebirth and resurrection. The entity enmeshed flipped and fidgeted, breaking loose from languish, desperate to dare to dream, to breathe and be, to skip and see. The suffocating cylinder squeezed some more, seeking to choke the child within. Life and death, light and dark, being and oblivion, the fragile fellow fought, slowly seeking salvation through shackles and strings of sinew.


Suddenly, true vision at long last seized the sad soul! Our fine friend was finally free, marveling at the sharp swaths of silver dew, majestic maroons, opulent oranges, witty whites and other splendid shades in the flowers flitting around the willowy wood.


A new creation, strong from struggle, beheld the butterflies, fluttering free in supple circling soliloquies. A heart hearkened to the multitude of magnificent monarchs, feeling flight ‘neath wobbly, wakened wings.


Knowing a virtuous vigor, our beautiful butterfly flew at last, fashioning a flight in joyous jubilation! The colors cascaded ‘cross novel vistas, unknown and open, a world of wonders untouched, waiting for venturous souls’ pursuits and curious quests to quiet horizons’ sunsets.


Our friend gazed back once last, at the dull shell that caged a caterpillar. Seeing the suffocating struggle no more, feeling the choking carcass not least, knowing that only purging pain and pressure had strengthened the wings enough to finally fly to freedom.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Journal Entry

Discerning God’s call and will. Who, what, when, where, how? Questions fade, he remains. Being transformed by the renewal of the mind, in prayer, supplication, joy, fellowship. Participating in his nature. Then you will be able to discern his pleasing, perfect will.


We are one like Israel, chosen, fallen, redeemed.


Called to take no side, save the side of grace, but to prophesy to those who ascribe to the systems of the world. There is condemnation for those under the law, there is no condemnation for those in Christ. A call to follow the Way, a call to know the Truth, a call to live in the Life.


For what is too hard for the living God? Therefore, I will walk in his strength, in my weakness. I proclaim a foolish message, that those who might believe would receive salvation, not from man’s wisdom, but from God’s power.

  Is it possible to truly encounter the Truth, without being changed? Without being rocked to the core so much that you can’t go on without changing your ways?


This adventure that he puts before us. “come after me.” He says. “trust me.” Don’t rely on yourself for provision or fulfillment. Be totally dependent on God, like child depending on a parent.

He swoons madly, calling to us as a lover, coveting our gaze, every motion, every thought. His desire for us is burning in zeal and fervor, he whispers mysteries to us, to see if we will catch the love, and follow. To see if we are willing to forget the dust around us, and latch on to life.


He has come to give purity, to heal grievous wounds, to show the escape from despair and meaninglessness. He has come to show true life, to tear us out of mediocrity and illusion. He has come to open our eyes, to see the light that is already shining.


Sunday, September 19, 2010

Baptism

Approach the water with anticipation, this fallen one. Today is the day I die again. The calm waters chill, inviting surrender. Brightest light blazes to ripples, through heavens, earth and eyes. Close these to black, last words a prayer, gentle trees sway the breeze. Last sight azure skies, split and redeemed by sunlight. Gone under, never returning to next worlds or this. Breathe the final air away, plunge the dead into depths. Rest, in eternal silence and dust under the Jordan waters.

 

Now arise! Break forth through the surface, into a new light and salvation! Breathe your first breath child, breathe. Open your eyes to see your first sight, awaken your heart with new spirit and anointing. Tears mix with water and become one, elixir of brokenness and life. Rise, step out of your grave. You have been raised with Christ.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Sometimes its all just noise

 Today, in Israel, we had quite a long day. We drove over to western Israel, the coastal plain. Tel Megiddo, a city that was destroyed and rebuilt many times in the ancient world, now lying desolate in ruin. We then drove towards the great sea (Mediterranean), saw various sites and ruins of once splendid palaces, ancient cities and culture centers, now nothing more remains of their ancient glory than a few rocks stacked on top of each other.

The sea was beautiful. The scent of the ocean wind, the sun reflecting on the waves, the razor blues of the water. I stood on the shore in the tide, and my footprints disappeared in the sand.

The trip back was long. I could feel the tidal force welling up in me, desperate. I felt like I was dying of thirst.

When I got back, the first thing I did was throw off my things I had carried around all day in my room. I went upstairs, to a quiet, dim little room. No one around, no music, no sights, no sounds. I sunk down against the wall, and started weeping. This dusty, dry soul drank deeply of the silence that it had starved of for so many hours. Finally, finally, I could once again hear the voice that gives me life, stillness, silence, the voice of whispers and promises.

Sometimes, it is all just... noise.

Monday, September 13, 2010

An aged reflection (7/7/09)

It was a new beginning, new life. All was committed to heaven, strength of promise, trust in providence, dedication and penitence ruled the cyclical chaos.

 

He saw a surface, much reflected. Through the ripples, translucency betrayed depths, dangers and treasures undiscovered. He knew desire to search and know, though odds and circumstance forbade miracle. Nevertheless, clarity could come with dare. But would the sight shimmer with soliloquy, or dance with dream? Time would tell, or fate forsake. Coincidence would cure, destiny would demand.

 

He committed mind relentlessly to call, fled distraction and secured hope, though he knew all could be lost in patience and forgotten from activity. Those reckless steps were ordered and insanity counseled, and crippled, he crumbled to the armada of awareness.

 

 

In light of all that was sworn, I saw a divide. My promises turned and split integrity, bereft of mercy. Were it simply hope lost, I would stagger and find strength to win it again. But this pierced a heart so longing for truth, that it all but drained the fickle joy away and left no recourse but sweet bitterness. I was torn between rising on heights of chance and wings of smile, or sinking into obscurity by lost presence.

 

It was as if the profound had vanished amid chaos, the meaningful grew thin, to break and disappear altogether. All I knew was tossed and in a void of doubt. Though my foundation stayed strong, my platform was shaken and body convulsed in the pain of reality.

 

Separation grew, feeding itself as I looked on in helpless dread and anger, knowing the truth had been warped by perspective. Vision was failing, wisdom skewed. Darkness crept close once more as I fled to intangible shelters of sword and spirit. But once safe, I looked back and beheld the distance lost.

 

Oh, a moment of clarity, when destiny focused and plan fulfilled. It was a completeness born of trial, wholeness transformed from loss, fullness of singularity. I strained to glimpse the man standing in that light, he stood ascended through it all, rose to call, fixed on destination. He turned not, leaving tear or grin to mystery.

 

And I wonder in pain, if I turned my back on him.

 

I tried to see.

 

That gaze once fixed would never sway, constant and true. Once vision set, it could only be forced away by the focus itself.

 

A day for a star’s fall awaited, a wish each night witnessing afar the sparkle and glow of dream and hope. In sad contrast, the helpless realization that each breath or blink could mean loss of chance to capture that light, and guide it home.

 

Sleep would come, closing heart from incandescence, dreams canceled by starting down another empty road. Grace was the only light to walk by, pale by all he left behind. A time never known to awake again, blind trust would have to raise him from gray fields of the lost.