...i have joined the long defeat...

A great shift...

2009-11-24T22:20:00.002+13:00

As sweet a love affair as this has been, blogspot and I have officially separated and filing for divorce. I've begun a new relationship with wordpress; it's a little more grown up. This lives, for purposes of posterity and commenting on other people's blogspots. But for now, if you see me walking hand in hand with wordpress, don't be surprised. Please visit; the welcome mat is always out at www.robinsheart.wordpress.com.

Hosea's Heart

2009-05-12T23:05:00.002+12:00

God sometimes asks a lot. Hosea was asked to marry a harlot; did he know what his life would become? He had no ten-year-plan, no pre-nuptial contract, no insurance from the Lord that she would ever love him. I wonder what Hosea's hopes were before the Lord spoke, and whether he felt them abandon him. Did he hope for a family, a house with a balcony, the peace of knowing his wife thought he was precious? Did he hope to be respected in his home and his community, did he want to be known as a man of honor? A man who loved God? A man loved by God?

I don't know. I know Hosea was human, and I know his story reflects the powerful love of the Savior for a wandering Israel. And I know that into the middle of his own plans and hopes came the voice of the Lord: go and marry a harlot. Was it a bomb planted in his heart that exploded when she left him the first time? Or was it like landmines planted in his soul, one setting another off? Just because he obeyed God doesn't mean it was easy. I wonder if he wondered what I have wondered: what has (s)he made me? Now where do I stand, and how is my foundation shaken?

And yet he stayed, and yet he bought her back. Paid dearly for her, over and over, as though she was his very heart cut from his side. Regardless of the pity and the scornful looks of those around him, he redeemed her at his own cost, and brought her back into a safe place. He gave her a part of his life, a life of integrity and faithfulness and wholeness -

Why did she wander? How could she wander? How could Gomer leave him – what could the world possibly offer that would be greater than her husband? And yet she did, and yet Israel does, and yet I do.

And sometimes He asks a lot of me, and sometimes I fail or falter; sometimes I hide for days, wandering the roads of my own selfishness as He tirelessly walks with me, leaves directions for me to get home, until the Divine stalking gets the better of me and I come into the open to talk with Him, this sweet Savior who buys my heart back over and over.

Sometimes He asks a lot. Sometimes the consequences of obedience are painful. Sometimes He frightens me with the intensity of His justice and love. But He is always ready to redeem me at even the highest price; and when I play Hosea instead of the harlot, He is always there to be the strength in my heart and the breath in my lungs.

"Simply to the cross I cling
Letting go of all earthly things
I'm clinging to the cross.
Mercy's found a way for me
Hope is here as I am free
Jesus You are all I need
I'm clinging to the cross"
- Bethany Dillon/Matt Hammitt

Why He takes His time on our hearts

2009-04-30T21:09:00.002+12:00

There is an incredible question floating around the universe: "Why doesn't God just fix broken hearts instantly? It's horrible to watch other people hurting..."

One of my guy classmates brought this up in a lecture yesterday, completely surprising me (yes, I did fail to recognize his sensitivity to others). But what really surprised me is that this is a question I have asked for what seems like the entire duration of my life, maybe even every day - this is the place I have doubted the Lord the most, and the place where I wasn't sure I could trust Him; did I doubt His sovereignty, or did I just doubt our ability to really allow Him to heal? - and I realised that I'm not asking Him any more because I know the answer.

Every single person on this planet is walking around a little bit broken. There isn't just one way for a heart to shatter. We see broken hearts on every single page of the paper, in every news report; we hear them in sad love songs, in the songs that wish there was one chance to say goodbye to a grandparent, we see them in divorce and suicide statistics. We hear about them in daily conversations, we see them trying to hide behind laughter or giving themselves a label like "emo" so they have an excuse to be sad.

There's a reason websites like SecretZen have become so popular: they give broken hearts a voice, and for those who don't have the courage or the desire to speak, a place to recognize: I am not alone in this. I won't lie; I often hear an echo of my own heart in someone else's words. "We are half lost"...oh, I am half blind; I long to see my Savior's face, I have to wait for that, and it leaves me feeling a little lost. "I wish I was a child again"...me too, oh, me too. Sometimes I save other people's secrets, because they're mine too (and not so secret). Sometimes I only visit these websites because I think I might be the only person to pray for them, and I hold some hope that it will make a difference. God will hear me...and He will meet the girl who feels trapped, even though the truth is supposed to set her free, and the boy who wants to know why his father is missing. Do we see the broken in others and long to see it mended because we are seeing with Jesus' eyes, or do we desire healing for others because if it can happen for them, it can happen for others?

So why doesn't He mend us straight away? Hasn't He taken our iniquities upon Him, haven't His stripes healed our wounds? Oh, yes they have, and they cost Him everything. We cost Him everything, and our healing broke the very heart of the Father.

But I know something else now, too. I know exactly what a broken heart is like - not just from a broken engagement, but from a broken home, from a shattered dream, from watching a world that needs Jesus so bad slowly dying, and I know what it's like to spend hours begging God to please make it better soon.

But if I was never broken, would I know Him as my mender? If I was never empty, could I ever see Him as my fulfiller? If I was never lost, if I was never in pain, could I ever know Him as the One who found me wandering the paths of my own choosing or the comforter of my heart? If I never came to a place of recognizing that on my own I cannot save myself or anyone else, would I ever know Him - really know Him - as Savior? And if I don't know Him as these things, would I make Him Lord?

Even greater: if He isn't everything to me, if He isn't the only One who can save me, then how can I take Him to those who are broken? What have I got to offer anyone? If I'm never in a place where I need to lean on Him and He proves Himself faithful, I will never know Him as faithful.

I feel well qualified to say that a broken heart is a blessing or a curse and we choose which it will be. In brokenness we choose who will reign, and whether there will be victory, whether we grow or whether we sink into self pity. I know one thing now more than anything else: I would not trade even one second of my broken heart for a quick fix.

If you looked at my life as a map, I could show you each place of brokenness; they would be in valleys, in deserts, in wildernesses and on infinitely lonely mountaintops. I could tell you each of the stories, and I could tell you about times when everything looked right but felt wrong. But if He showed you, I think He'd mark places differently. Where I mark myself broken, He marks a place where He proved faithful. Where I mark myself failed, He marks a place where He taught me that He is Lord of all situations. The valley I mark as the end He marks as the beginning. I mark an endless desert where He marks the place that I begin to stumble into joy.

In these places we learn more about ourselves, but we gather something precious: little awarenesses of God, knowledge of who He is, intimacy and relationship with Him. So He strips us, so He kills us, so He removes our self-sufficiency and our crutches. So what? Would we trade them for knowing Him? I wouldn't, I won't. Because I want to stand upon the mountain of God, and if I want to stand there with Him, there is a valley that must be walked through and triumphed over.

Noodles and Orange Juice

2009-04-08T21:37:00.002+12:00

If I wasn't going to name this entry noodles and orange juice, I'd call it the questions God asks that shake my foundations.

When I was in Wellington and the world didn't feel right, I used to drive to Newtown to the Meditteranean Food Warehouse and buy chocolate gelato (with little chips of coffee beans...mmm). I would drive to the shoreline between Island Bay and Happy Valley and sit and eat icecream with Jesus, and talk to Him - yes, out loud - and my heart would come right by the time I got up off the sand and went home. In Tauranga, places that sell gelato are closed by 8 most nights. So tonight, I had sambal chicken noodles and orange juice. On the beach. And I shamelessly talked to Him, out loud. And I loved it, until He started to ask me questions that uncovered things I didn't know were there. How He breaks my heart with tenderness, and even though I ache, I love Him more than I can ever, ever express.

The danger in talking to God while you're driving is that He starts to answer. Tonight I had to stop the car and pull over to even begin to take in His words (nothing to do with tears, of course). There are very few people who can truly call me on my faults and failures who I listen to, but the Lord is one of them. He said so quietly, "I am teaching you to need me more than you need life, more than you need someone else to complete you, more than you need water or bread, far beyond any concept of need you have. I am teaching you to feel as I feel, know as I know. I am laying a foundation. If you want to be with me in my glory, and share my joy, you must also learn to share my sorrow. Loving someone else, for you, means being Jesus to them and having them be Jesus to you, and this is a good and a right thing because this is what I have set in your heart. but you can't be Jesus to someone else until you know Me more then you know yourself, and until you love Me more than your own life. Until you will lay down your life for Me you will not lay down your life for another." Oh, my, have you ever felt the conviction of God flood you as if there is nothing else in existence but Him and you? And with infinite sweetness and generosity He shows you where you fail, and where you are beginning to measure up? And you just have nothing you can say to justify yourself, but you don't need to, because the very fact that you're still breathing means that He still wants you? And He is perfectly stubborn for us.

I was so conscious that He was testing me, a little. Do I really want what I'm asking Him for? Am I really willing to give everything else up? If it comes to it, will I sacrifice everything I love and hold dear? "Will you even give up your desire to one day be married if I ask you to? Even if there is no earthly reward? Will you give up everything and love Me anyway, not resenting Me? Or do you hold some dreams dearer than you hold Me?" I didn't know...I didn't know my heart harbored such things. Is this what it means to work out my salvation with fear and trembling?

I don't know if the heaviness we have been experiencing lately is because there is a heaviness in His heart, andd we are learning to share His heart because we have prayed that He would "break my heart for what breaks Yours, everything I am for Your kingdom's cause" or not. But I do believe that if we are longing to know the weight of His glory, and He grants our hearts' desires in that, then it's right and fair that we also know the weariness of His heart and His suffering. That is the consequence of praying dangerous prayers and asking for adventures with Him. Before we pack for the journey, we have to tidy our rooms and sort out what to keep and what to carry with us.

"Come to me dear, with your broken heart
When the thorn will not fall from your side
You’ve waited too long and life’s passed you by
Come to me dear, with your broken heart"
- Matt Brouwer

something just isn't right

2009-04-08T19:43:00.003+12:00

Something just doesn't feel right. Nobody has done anything, or not done anything; there's just a heeaviness, an aching, a desperate desperate hope for more sitting inside my chest...and my chest feels like an unfillable cavern. This is a quiet storm that keeps taking my breath away.

I have known what it's like to be bowed before Him with the weight of His glory so tangible that I was certain that if I opened my eyes, I would see the face of God and die. But this is not the weight of glory; this is something else formless and weightless, yet heavy as the universe resting on my shoulders, on my heart. It's like watching the world from a different space. Oh, yes, He is good and oh, He is kind; His beauty is everywhere. But this is a sadness I don't know well but am becoming familiar with; there is a depth to it that doesn't exist in my own, and a hope that burns me up. I am not certain that it is even my own. But I am certain that it is driving me to the foot of the cross over and over and over.

I love debate and I love discussion, but tonight, I am just not up to it; I don't want it, with every fiber of my being. All I wish for is that I could see Jesus sitting here in my room, and I could sit at His feet and just listen. Listen to the Lord of Eternity speak peace to my heart. Listen to His voice, and by His word the fury in me be quieted. Listen to His perfect wisdom making sense of my confusion. Listen to the King of my glory and the Prince of my Peace spill love into fear until fear is overcome and there is no more to say anyway.

I don't care about arguments and doctrinal issues and theology right now. I just need to hear Him say that He is near. Everything is right in the world, yet everything is out of place.

I am homesick for Jesus.
I am so, so homesick to see His face.
If I could just sit at His feet for a little while like Mary
See His face for a moment
I am certain everything would fall back into place
I am just so lonely for Jesus right now

What Waiting Means

2009-04-01T22:04:00.003+13:00

I have just discovered the loveliness of Shawn McDonald's music through the accidental stumbling on his blog. I thought he might have been one of those indie musicians from the somewhat emotional nature of his writing (yes, just my kind of music). But no. And oh, my, I have been missing out! But maybe I love it more now that it is all real, more than I would have before? It is music that feeds the soul something wholesome. Between the Roots album and a photo of a dog, I'm thinking about what waiting means and why it even matters. I think that all waiting can be summed up like this:

Waiting means becoming more of who we are as we long for reconciliation with eternity and the precious Lord of eternity whose existence and involvement our restless hearts bear witness to.

Waiting matters because it makes us whole and fills the emptiness with the sweetness of the Lord. And without that, we are nothing (I am nothing).

won't You take me,
and make me
beautiful,
beautiful?*

I am not patient, and have never been. My best friends could tell you stories that would be alternatively embarrassing and hilarious about moments in time where my impatience has, well, not landed me in the best positions. But I am learning to manage my restlessness with grace and temper my impatience and impetuousness with careful consideration. With all the learning, though, there is often a tug in my heart for understanding. Why do I have to spend so much time in waiting rooms? I am done with here! But He isn't. Sometimes the only thing that can keep me in waiting rooms, rather than running away, is the awareness that here is where we are made beautiful. There is nowhere else we are broken and remade, with light shining through; nowhere else where what has already broken and mended crooked or is too crushed to even mend crooked is melted and molded and skimmed until the face of the Craftsman is reflected from its surface. These patient place are where we are somehow dissected and then put back together the same, yet somehow different; we are more of ourselves now, if that is possible, more of who we were meant to be. How can this be even possible??

There are songs that put peace in my heart while I'm waiting, and sometimes give me the sweetness I need to keep waiting.

Oh, but you know what? I hate waiting, I hate being temporal and fixed in time and space and endless not knowing. I hate waiting for wisdom, and I am not happy about having to wait for other people. And yet...if we want to inherit the earth, we must be made meek; if we want to be filled, we must hunger; if we want to be satisfied, we must thirst; if we want to inherit the kingdom, we must bear poverty, and perhaps be persecuted; if we want to be comforted, we must learn to mourn; if we want to be shown mercy, we must extend mercy; if we want to see God, we must become pure in heart; if we want to be called His children, we must be peacemakers; and still sing glory to the Almighty.

It's late, and I'm tired, so I leave you with this thought tonight:

"I have tasted of a love so wide that it stops all my time"**

And yet we live in time with that Love. What an incredible God!

* waltz in 3 by Shawn McDonald
** have you ever by Shawn McDonald

why we run

2009-03-31T23:03:00.002+13:00

i'm always running [away].

The crazy thing is that girls want to be pursued, want to know that their hearts are worthwhile. And yet, we run away. Is it because we are afraid that someone will find us beautiful and will pursue us? Or is it because there is a terrible fear of being weighed and found wanting, and being left alone?

We want to spend our lives with men "like these, they are just like trees, planted near the streams of water; with roots that grow deep, deep into the ground" (Shawn Mcdonald). But what is the cost? Being women like these, learning to be planted just like trees near streams of living water? There are all kinds of water, but we need to be planted near the living streams.

I think we want to be taken and made beautiful.

this week is going to be interesting. will i spend it running away? i hope i won't. i hope i will be brave and sweet and strong and kind. Jesus, give me grace [i have so little on my own].

I am embarking on a journey. It is a journey that I know is dangerous and where so much about the destination is still unknown. The map says the destination is the heart of God. But there is so much between here and there that I am almost taken aback by how far I haven't come. The start of this journey is learning about desire and my own heart, made in His image and twisted by the fall. I live a little in trepidation, because I know that where I am going requires change, and even though I have lived with myself for almost 23 years, I'm not exactly certain of what I'll find in the deepest places of my own heart. I'm not afraid of finding glory, but of finding darkness; not of potential, but failure; not of power but of infinite weakness.
But once I get there I KNOW I will find not only who I am, but who I need God to be, and what He needs me to be. I am glad, in some ways, that it will be a challenge, an adventure that spells ruin. To be ruined for the ordinary, ruined for the past, ruined for everything but the glory of the Lord and intimacy with Him is all I want. That's really why I am allegorically packing my hypothetical bags - to get rid of them.

this Bible College business...

2009-03-24T22:15:00.002+13:00

Almost at the end of year one at Bible College and people are still asking me why I'm here; the question is usually followed by "...you've changed so much; you seem, well, you smile a lot more." I don't think it's smile a lot more, so much as strive a lot less and this wonderful peace that lives at the bottom of my heart like an anchor, like a floor. Oh, there are still moments when peace seems so far away, but I am learning to stop and listen; because underneath the quiet of my own raging thoughts is the breathtaking sweetness of God.

So why am I here? The simple answer is, because God dragged me kicking and screaming - but that's the story of every single person who is at Faith this year (and from what I gather, last year too). We come in the gate kicking and screaming, ache our way through the first semester, then suddenly during semester break we realise: this growing hurts, but I have grown. For some of us, this was the last-ditch effort to become human again; for some of us, this was the way God chose to bring us down to earth.

Somewhere in that first 4 months or so of being stripped naked, broken, and realising we are shivering and hurting, we were carved and sanded. What was once an unbeautiful mess has taken on the semblance of order, and the image of Christ begins to be burned on our minds and hearts. His love gives us the courage to stand on our feet for ourselves and others. We fight dragons daily - our own and others' - and we chart new maps across uncharted land.

And yet - there is gossip, there is meddling, there are disagreements and bad attitudes, there is resentment and bitterness and overwhelming fear. This is not a perfect place; anywhere there are humans will fail to be perfect. But it is holy ground. This is the place where we have a clear choice set before us, everything we need for success handed to us, the building of spirits place. This is the furnace and the anvil, where we wrestle with our humanity and learn to live with our immortality; this is where we work out our salvation truly with fear and trembling, and stand before God as we truly are. This is where we are revealed and become transparent, and where we are reformed and reshaped and fulfilled.

If you ever wanted to see the Kingdom, here it is. Down at the bottom of the known world tucked away in a quiet corner of Welcome Bay, hearts come home. Broken and ugly with sin. We are ministered to and taught and mentored and encouraged by a remarkeable group of people who were blessed with infinite kindness and remarkeable patience who we call "staff". We bother them with little things and great things, silly things and matters of life and death, at various times of day and night. We try them a million ways, and they are proven true and faithful. And day by day, we catch a little bit more of a vision so great that it cannot be contained in our pitiful words.

I have never been so stretched. I have never felt so tired. I have never been so disheartened or so hopeful, and I've never been so excited about the Lord and how He's moving.

Oh, and PRAISE THE LORD I'm going to Meddy and Sammy's for dinner tomorrow night (yes, that is the REAL reason I am here...haha).

So, why aren't you here?

the meaning of friendship

2009-03-23T22:19:00.002+13:00

What is friendship? This question has been turning around my mind in multiple directions all day. It's half-answered, half-hidden. How do we define ourselves? Do we define ourselves by our friendships? How does that define our friendships?

friend (frend): noun

a person whom one knows well and is fond of; intimate associate; close acquaintance
a person on the same side in a struggle; one who is not an enemy or foe; ally
a supporter or sympathizer a friend of labor
something thought of as like a friend in being helpful, reliable, etc.*

It strikes me that the terms "friend" and "friendship" are not honored or understood very well. One person on the Collegenet forum made a simple but powerful statement: "....if we were in war together who can I trust to watch my back in the foxhole? With whom will I know I will wake up the next morning alive?" If love is closely related to friendship, I hope I play the hypothetical Robin to your hypothetical Batman, or the Sam to your Frodo, or the Lucy to your Aslan. If I don't, and if I'm not, then what am I to you anyway? The thing that seems clearest about friendship is that it takes two.

Friendship is walking through deserts of the heart together; it's 2am conversations, it's the security that the other person would rather wound you with tenderness than lie to you, it's the strength we lend each other when it's necessary, and even when it's not. It's the color of hope, it's the lending of faith, it's the bright bursts of laughter and the way we watch each others' back. If you won't fight next to a friend, who will you fight next to? If you won't cry with a friend, if you won't laugh with a friend, if you won't walk in honesty and intimacy and wisdom and brokenness with a friend - who are you underneath?

I've been aware more and more that for a lot of the people who call me friend have a loose interpretation of "friendship". And if I'm honest, I have many more acquaintances than friends. The friendships I treasure the most and consider worth guarding are those that go two ways. If someone chooses not to walk with you, perhaps they consider you friend, but do you consider them friend? And where do you draw the line, if something precious slips away and you miss it, but the other doesn't? How do you determine who is, and who isn't, and who gets second chances?

So God desires friendship with me more than I desire friendship with others. His friendship is eternally extended, and has greater sacrifice than any human can make. If I neglect intimacy and integrity with Him, how can I offer it to anyone else?

* definition from yourdictionary.com

hope in shallow places

2009-03-22T22:13:00.002+13:00

she was older, lost connection
lost that light above her head in all directions

Firstly, happy birthday to me; how lovely the last few days have been! I had the audacity even to ask the Lord for a present, and the heavens laughed; but He obliged. And how I am looking forward to finding out what my place in the world is (and what that means). It's always amazing to me how I don't know what I need; I think I do, but I don't, and what I think is a need is often no more than a want, and only He knows what really is necessary and how to bring it about best.

but she climbed that mountain, and cried aloud like a marching drum
sound your horns and heed your calling!

Every year I get a little more conscious of change coming and the fact that my heart is a little more broken as time moves on. Years really are like a river; once you've moved past a place, you can't reverse the flow of the river and go back. You can remember, but that's it. I'm a long way from where I thought I would be at 23, but in a good way. I'm not the person I thought I would be, and there is a little regret over things I would have done differently if the river could be turned back. I've made it a practise to read back through my journals with the Lord to see where I've grown and where I need to grow (with Him)...so I have been reading through the last years' worth of journal, and had to laugh. The questions I asked Him a year ago are the very same questions I'm asking Him today, and He's already answered them as much as He's going to. The person I thought I would be is not the person I am, but I'm not sure I would change that. I know I've disappointed Him (and myself) more times than I can count, but there is also a surety that there are things that have delighted Him as they've grown in my heart. I know who I want to be, and that there is work to be done.

there is work to be done, there is work to be done
we are all just dust to glory

I've been aware more lately that the places where I find hope for deeper things are shallow places. Because when I'm in deep places, I don't need hope; being wrapped up in a passion for something too great for human vocabulary leaves me curiously detached from the things we seek on a want basis. There is something greater and wider and deeper that pulls me in then and the reality overwhelms the hope.

there is work to be done, there is work to be done
bow your head to the mission story

Having work to be done is a hopeful thing in itself, though. Without purpose, what am I? (nothing, nothing, nothing - just dust, without the to glory)

he couldn't see it but he heard it
she saw him struggling with the symbols so she wrote it down

Here is what I know: I want my life to be the outworking of the grace of God spilled out on undeserving humanity, giving meaning to concepts to large for our comprehension.

she looked right through him, saw the shadows of the risen Son
cast your nets into the ocean

Casting nets and trusting are a beautiful ongoing message from the Lord to me. I remember when I started praying with one of my best friends, and trust was such a big struggle. It isn't as much as it used to be, that is certain - but the way He called us was so firm: "leave your nets and follow Me. Now." Forget anything else - no time. Just leave behind everything nets symbolize - safety. Surety. Complacency. Comfort. Out you come into the deep, into simplicity and reality, brighter things and more solid things.

(On an aside, I know what it is to look right through someone and see the power of Christ working through them, to be blown away by how strong the glory of the Lord is on them, and how deeply that touched me the first time I saw it. What a quiet miracle, and what a faith-affirming thing, and how much injustice words do to it! If you ever look up at someone, and suddenly realise that the presence of God is great in their life, and can almost see a mighty hand resting on their shoulder, cling to that moment because it will sustain you later).

oh there is work to be done, there is work to be done
we are all just dust to glory

Intended to be free...what does that mean? The least visible part of us is the most eternal part of us, and the only part that isn't destructible!

there is work to be done, there is work to be done
bow your head to the mission story!

Oh if there's work to be done! Then I am here, and ready to work.

and i remember when i borrowed all my healing from a stranger
and i recall when i reached out to the ocean like a soldier

I have to laugh at these lines. They are so improbable, but they are too much an accurate description of my life. Except that my healing isn't borrowed, it was bought at a terrible price, and set in divine concrete, the promise written in blood. We walk through life like soldiers, fighting when need arises, and then we come to an ocean shore and ache to be walking on water hand in hand with Jesus. But most of the time by the time we get to the ocean shore we're so broken and held together by little more than our armor built from experiences and our shields and weapons borne of pain and endless struggle, so instead of rushing down to the water we stand on the shore at war with our own hearts. Are we going in? Are we going to wait for the tide to rise and "come get us"? I don't know that that is even an option for me any more.

and the burning sun just made me colder
and the hollow moon just made me older
so i reached out of my body and the stars became a story
and i bowed my head in glory as the story ends in One

Being human is full of restrictions and desperation and burning desire for immortality. But we are immortal, and one day we will be free. And the heavens will sing the praise of He who was crucified and has risen. And today, I bow my head in glory, because all this story ends in One incredible, undeniable King of creation.

(lyrics: Steven Delopoulos, there is work to be done)

How to Move the World

2009-03-20T00:17:00.001+13:00

"Love without courage and wisdom is sentimentality, as with the ordinary church member. Courage without love and wisdom is foolhardiness, as with the ordinary solider. Wisdom without love and courage is cowardice, as with the ordinary intellectual. But the one who has love, courage, and wisdom moves the world."

~Ammon Hennacy

thankyou.

2009-03-17T00:06:00.000+13:00

One of my best friends is in China. I hope he is having a lovely lovely time but I also kind of miss him being a bit closer than the other side of the world. The thing I am most grateful for with this friend is that he is like a brother I never had, but more than that, he is someone who is emotionally safe to be around. There are lots of ways that I could potentially say thankyou for so many things, but the only way I know how to say thankyou with ALL my heart is with words, so this is my thankyou to someone I respect and am glad to have the input from.

Dear friend
we've shared in hindsight many insights
born of pain and falls
bruised knees, scratched hearts
lack of wisdom
we've shared some feelings
loss of innocence, sense of bearing
lost our hearing, lost our hearts
i've bared my heart

cracked it open, spread it wide
with its imperfections and its many lies
spread it on a blank white screen with honesty much like
spreading runny jam with a butter knife
waited for you to cut with words to judge to make me bleed
open 'tween teenage angst and growing pains
warmer moments and grown up heartaches

but you opened your heart and
in the warm November rain the cold winds racked my heart
and with arms metaphorically open you stood
unassuming and undemanding
warm in new simplicity and Christ-like mercy
and in return

shared your wisdom with me
in equal honesty and true modesty
clear minds, clear eyes
i form the grammatical structure to bring a thing more logic
but inbetween perfect sentences that mean less
we synchronizate harmonies of common language
our hearts having always
spoken the same sort of tongue

---For your kindness, thankyou. For your willingness to listen to me, thankyou. For being gracious, thankyou. But most of all, for being the kind of friend that can be trusted, from the bottom of my heart without agenda or desire for response: thankyou.

prayer for 2009

2009-03-13T22:44:00.001+13:00

every day, fountains of words come
from my mouth
like a small babbling brook
few of them have any meaning
i am washed away
by rivers of words.
without the color of reason
they fall meaningless into a great cavern
and drift around in the spaces
between the stars.
i want them to mean something
something to believe
i want to mean something
to be someone to believe in.
let my words be Your own
let them quietly rage
wearing away at the shores of unbelief
in others' hearts.
give me words to speak
that charm the restless ones
that free the captive ones
that captivate, that captivate.
oh, Lord, let me be captivating
because You live in me.
let my words heal, let them draw
movement and joy forth
calling destiny, shifting obstacles to purpose.
let them be Yours
let them be Yours
let me be Yours.
until all the lies i carry inside me
are gone, gone, gone
and ever after, after that
let me speak only Your words.

the power of voice

2009-03-12T22:12:00.000+13:00

Thanks to Hayden, of Thoughts From A Wild Heart, I have been thinking a lot about language. It strikes me that anyone who is going to be in any kind of ministry needs to understand how incredibly effective words are...so this is my understanding.

Language is an incredible tool, and it is our primary tool for communication. Body language is secondary to a good conversation, and even though it is a primary tool, it's still far harder to read than an honest conversation. Language is almost like an entity, if you will, in that it is constantly evolving and developing, being added to and yet somehow retaining meaning and purpose. People who are constantly subjected to verbal beatings are often deeply affected by it, but people who are consistently encouraged are ministered to and built up by the language choices of another person. There is a reason that Words of Affirmation is a love language - incidentally, Words of Affirmation is a love language that almost every woman on the planet receives in, and most need to learn to give in.

To be honest, I think that if you're going to write or speak, particularly in a way that will affect more people than yourself, you have a responsibility to be a) transparent b) truthful and c) aware of the impact of words. Sure, there is individual responsibility on the listener or the reader to weed out what is nonapplicable, unimportant, or just plain unfit for the consumption of the human ear. But words are precious and can be used to destroy or rebuild the human spirit. THAT in itself should be enough to make it clear to a speaker or a writer that if they are going to spend time churning out words, the words need to be worthwhile, the concept needs to be applicable. And for goodness' sake, if you need to rant and you know it's negative, or involves other people, lock your blog entry or change the names. Not just out of respect for the gift of language, but out of respect for yourself.

I don't know if words in and of themselves are powerful, but their impact is. Let me explain that. You can hear words in another language that mean nothing to you, but they can still deeply affect you. It may be the manner in which they are spoken, the way they sound, or something as seemingly unrelated as the voice of the person speaking. This leads me to conclude that words have a spiritual element to them. There's no such thing as a silent spell, for example, and no such thing as a silent life. Everything that speaks has a purpose. And with any spiritual thing we must tread carefully.

...FINAL POINT...

Language, as with all aspects of life, was originally a gift from God. When Adam was made in the image of Christ he was given a voicebox and the capability to produce sounds with meaning. I like to think that God primarily gave us language because He wanted to hear our voices, and as much as language is a tool to communicate with each other heart to heart and ear to ear it is also a tool of which I am learning to ask myself the question: Is what I am saying or writing honoring Him? Or am I honoring me? While there is nothing wrong with using language for my own benefit, I think that a Christian has an added responsibility to ensure that the words we use fall in line with the will of God. I say this because "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks" (or fingers type). I'd love to see people who love God raise the standards.

The Real Warrior Queen - outside the box

2009-03-05T22:27:00.000+13:00

I always loved the Arthurian legends and British folklore. There is something about a time when fighting a war meant bravery and valor and hope was a matter of life or death that flicks a switch in me. There is a sweetness in a fight that matters.

But what I love more than anything is the presence of warrior women. Women who were full of courage, wise and strong, gentlehearted but roused to a quick fierceness that caused them to fight at their husbands' sides. Women who were not fickle, who were not princesses up in a tower somewhere hiding away from the battle to stay safe. They were beautiful women, intelligent women, bright and brave, not afraid of mice or spiders or chipping a fingernail.

Catherine the Great, Elizabeth I, Boudicca, Queen Jinga, Guinevere (most of the stories of her infidelity popped up in the 14th century, and were picked up on in the 19th century - both far too late to be cited as credible, so I disregard them). These were women who didn't stay home to bury their heads like ostriches, hoping that the worst wouldn't come. I once read a story about Guinevere, long before the latest Keira Knightley movie came out, that featured her as a woman in love with her husband - so much so that she fought at his side. Where he went, so did she; where he fought, she fought; where he rested, she rested. She made it her business to love what he loved to the point that his enemies became hers, and fighting at his side was of more value than saving her own life.

Joan Smith commented that there is little else in politics for women to be than a safe wife or a warrior queen. I contend that that is as true of Christianity (and any other field of interest to humanity) as it is of politics, but also that women can be both safe and warrior. And not just in the realm of marriage, but also in the realm of any relationship.

I think it's time for women to grow up. There's a lot of posturing and posing, a lot of false ideals and appearance consciousness, and I think it's time to go beyond that. Yes, men need to step up and be more lion-like, but women need to step up too. Everything is a risk, spiritually and physically. But I think it's time to stop praying "Jesus please won't you fight for me - oh, and while You're at it, Lord, could you please bind the devil for me and not let him hurt me?" I think it's time that we take hold of the authority He gave us and start being hands and feet. That means walking and it means learning to use weapons. I don't believe that this means that we will suddenly become less masculine, or that we will no longer be womanly or feminine. I don't think God intended us to be weak. He meant for us to be pure, and to be meek, and to be tender and gentle and merciful. But He also wanted us to be brave and good, wise and strong. We don't do ourselves or anyone else any favors by pretending that we can't do anything for ourselves. It reminds me of a song by Steven Delopoulos:

She opened her eyes to the One
He shined her with all of his glory
And the music above was a children’s choir...
The orchestra roared
And they bowed to the throne as if love was a sword.

If there is a battle that can't be won with the sword, it can be won with love. I think it's time that love became more than a fluffy feeling, more than the Nice Stuff That Means We Can Go To Heaven.

Want more lions in the church? Start roaring. Want more kingdom taken for heaven? Pick up some heavenly armour (see Ephesians for details on the full body armour). Want to be more involved in what the Lord is doing in the church and in the nations? Learn to fight at His side, as Guinevere fought at Arthur's.

"We're all just dust to glory" - and we need to start working for the Glorious One Himself.

An Army Of Lions In The Land

2009-03-05T22:00:00.000+13:00

I don't intend to make this a place for posting poetry or lyrics, but today I want to post this one. I haven't properly written in months, and it's making me happy to be writing again.

I heard the battle cry this morning
Split the air with ferocity
I heard the sound of armies marching
And the sound of mothers grieving
For the sons lost
For the daughters lost

I heard the sirens wailing this day
The thunder of bombs detonating
I heard the sound of children aging
A hundred years in a single day
Oh, the sons lost
Oh, the daughters lost

Is it time for an army of lions
Brave in deed and sure of heart
Is it time for us to rise up, rise up
Is it time, is it time, let it be time

I heard a heart beat rising today
The firm song of tenacity
I heard the sons and daughters awake
To the sound of a holy army
To fight for the sons lost
To fight for the daughters lost

It is time for an army of lions
Brave in deed and sure of heart
It is time for us to rise up, rise up
It is time, it is time, let us stand

No more second chances for the enemy
Time to take back what is ours
No more sleeping in the pews
Time to rescue the sons, rescue the daughters lost

beloved in the desert

2009-02-28T20:44:00.000+13:00

The Lent season has begun. It's always been one of my favorite times of the year. There's something different about it, something sweet and bitter and something firm and immovable wrapped in the winds of change. Change in me/unchanging Him. The sweetness of intimacy with Christ/the bitterness of being human and prone to failure. It's not about a religious routine; it's about 40 days and 40 nights the Messiah spent in the desert, a vital part of our redemption. It's a physical demonstration He gave us...this is where we gain great victory. Before we go to war, before we fight, before we even make a battle plan...before we sail from harbor, before we board the ship, before we even pack our suitcases, the desert beckons to us. Why? Because this is where we make Him Lord. Before we begin the adventure of a lifetime, we begin a different adventure. Every time I've walked these 40 days with the Lord, He does something I didn't expect, and I like it that way. I am reminded often of the words often repeated of Aslan: Oh, He is not safe! But He is good. How good He really is. It's been raining for days here, and over most of the country, and the whole earth looks clean. There are leaves all over the driveway, and it smells like fall, even though everything is still green. Everything I see has a double meaning, if you will. It is the end of summer, and the start of fall in the realm of physical seasons. But there is a shift also in the spiritual. Just as there are storms in the physical, so there are storms in the human heart and soul, and it is in the seasons of the heart that we learn to lean the best. These seasons are the ones where we learn to trust God in ways we might never have before. This is where we make Him our home.

How long has it been, Jesus
Since we walked hand in hand
A week seems to span eternity
In this infinite ocean of sand

So this is the 40 day season leading up to Easter, and it is a time to retreat to and wander in the desert; to face doubts and misgivings head on, to tackle the deeper things and find ourselves wanting. "Face yourself, man!"* I love that the Christian faith has this opportunity for "Retreating Into the Wilderness with Jesus". We retreat on our own but we are not alone. How simple, and how powerful. Why don't more people do it? I wonder, sometimes, as I begin the journey, how it is that I have forgotten to miss the 'extra' that is in it. Extra awareness of the Lord, then extra awareness that I am unworthy of His presence, then an extra joy, ecstatic joy, in knowing that regardless of that He loves me. How many times do we have to be called to repentance before we draw near His throne and bow?

And how did it come to be, Jesus
That I find you more near
Than the very heart that's beating
In my chest and better than my dearest dreams

The rainy seasons are precious for the feeling of being washed clean. The best part about being in the desert heat and resisting temptation is the cleanness that results. Some days, though, it feels too long and too tiring, and I don't want to pray, and I don't want to hunger. The heat is too much and the light is too bright. I forget, Jesus, I forget, and I don't want to forget any more.

Because I've been in this desert for so long
That I almost forgot the beauty of your song
But I still love waking up to You
Knowing that even here You want me to
Know I am Your beloved

Do you ever get the feeling that God loves us to talk to Him? I talk to Him all day, but my favorite time is at night when I'm waiting to fall asleep. The first and last moments of my day are spent just loving Him and telling Him about it (and asking for a good sleep...oh, the humanity!). But the best part of this is that I wake up every morning and I know He is there. I guess if you're married part of the joy (or not joy) is waking up with someone. But relationship with Jesus is a covenant too, and waking up with His presence is incredible. I mean...the creator of the heavens and the earth, who flung the stars into place and laid out the sky, who breathed life into clay and brought Adam to His feet and took one of His ribs and formed Eve from his bone - watches over me as I sleep, and delights to hear my voice in the morning. THIS is OUR GOD! (anybody want to add an amen to that?)

How far has it been, Jesus
Since we began this journey
Each day slips into eternity
But each moment lingers on in me

It's funny how there are moments that leap out and grab us and we never forget them, even if we never write them down or mention them to anyone. Sometimes those are moments of weakness that we are rescued from, sometimes they are moments of weakness we are not rescued from and we falter on our own. I am glad that the Lord is not afraid of honest prayer or of the ugliness of humanity, and that He does not number my sins against me. As David wrote, if He did - who could stand? But there are also whole days that are full with His glory resting on us, and still others that slip away into oblivion. Even those that slip away mark us...

And how has it come to be, Jesus
That You're more necessary
Than the very air I've been breathing
Better than the sweetest water dream

So we are three days into the wilderness. I suppose the next four will be spent just in getting further in. There will be surprises and revelations, that much is certain. But I am certain it will be a rollercoaster...I just need to cling to the promise that

Even here You want me to
Know I am Your beloved

* Dream Thearer, This Dying Soul

Famous One

2009-01-17T20:32:00.000+13:00

You are the Lord
The famous one, famous one
Great is Your name in all the earth

One of the things I love the most about the Lord is how big He is, how incredibly BIG and powerful and unbelievably tender His heart is. Shari and I were sitting in my car last Saturday praying for one of my friends, and somehow all the right things kept falling out of my mouth. Then there was just one moment where something other took over and the prayer took on a new dimension; I've rarely felt anything like it. SomeOne bigger than me wanted something said a certain way. I was aware of Shari praying next to me in tongues, but it was as if that was somewhere else, and I was watching my friend climbing an incredibly steep mountain bearing an impossible weight, and my heart broke for him. The mountain was all rock, not a single tree or plant; everything was dead and brown and stony. The sky was grey and he had a burden strapped to him with cords like camping rope, unbreakable; all the weights and the burdens and baggage of past years and other people's burdens added to his own, trying to pull him down. And he just. kept. going. Really slowly and painfully, but kept going, and then fell down. And all my heart fell down too. How do you stand in the gap? How do you talk to them when you see them, however you see them again? My heart wants to start off by saying: what is this mountain you're climbing, and why do you have to carry the weight of the world? don't you know that Love is tender and kind, and don't you know that He longs to cut the cords and lift the burdens off? you need to leave them at His cross and stand up tall and walk with Him, not climbing on your own but walking hand in hand with Him.

The heavens declareYou're glorious, glorious
Great is Your fame beyond the earth

But you know what I love? I love that the God of heaven and earth, who is glorious, who the stars in the heavens sing of, loves my friend. He loves my friend enough to wake me in the middle of the night or in the early hours of the morning to say: pray for him. He loves me enough to teach me how to pray, when I stumble over my words and my mind is still thick with dreams, and enough to force me to stay awake when my eyes won't stay open of my own accord. I love that the God who invented fingerprints and irises, knees and planets, lungs and oceans, sent His glory to rest upon two girls sitting in a carpark pouring their hearts out. And I love - love - that the Lord I serve, who plans the sunsets and makes the sun itself to rise and shine, made His presence so tangible that we couldn't open our eyes for fear that we would see Him, couldn't move for fear that we would touch Him in a physical form, could scarcely breathe. The fact that my friend is this precious to Him is astounding, because it stands to reason that so am I.

For all You've done and yet to do
With every breath I'm praising You

I still, when the Lord wakes me to talk to Him, don't know what to say. I know now that an appropriate response is to roll out of bed and onto my knees, rather than rolling over and back into dreams. And I know that when it's cold and I'm tired, that is the last place I want to be, but it is the best place I want to be. Sometimes I can't get back to sleep, and I stay awake thinking: wow. How did this happen to me? How did I earn the privelege of lifting someone else up before the throne of heaven and leaving them on the altar to burn in the fire He lights? Why does the Lord of Eternity wake me to talk? How is it possible that Jesus in His infinite beauty is so interested in the workings of the heart of mortal man? It's more than incredible, and it takes my breath away.

Desire of the nations and every heart
You alone are God
You alone are God

I don't really have words to explain how the strange moments when I'm halfway between waking and awake but consciously aware of the presence of God and His desire to hear my voice build my faith, build my passion, build my hope. I wonder sometimes why I am praying for my friend. There are so many people who can pray better, who can pray wiser, who are closer to him. And yet - and yet. There is a glory in knowing that the only God in the universe has need of me. And yes, He does; as Hudson Taylor wrote, "sisters, Christ has need of you." Sure, if I say no and go back to a (very broken) sleep, God can ask someone else to waken. But who am I to say no to Him? It is a dangerous thing to say no to God, and a dangerous thing to say yes to Him. Because He WILL take us at our word.

The morning star is shining through
And every eye is watching You

I've gotten to watch the sun rise the last few mornings, and I've been blessed to see it set most nights too. I've been going down to the back deck of the prayer house in the evenings with a cup of tea to just talk about the day. Inevitably talking about the day leads to talking about hope, and then to the glory of creation, and then to asking Him to "raise up an army in this place, raise up men and women who will be lions in the land, raise up a nation of men and women who will live to breathe Your Name; raise up Davids, raise up Art Katzes and Joan of Arcs, who will live to honor You in word and deed." There is just something about watching the day begin and end, and becoming aware that there truly is more. There truly is an adventure that we are a part of, even if the right now is a dull part. Because there are wonderful parts of every day; that morning star shining through makes me think of the return of Jesus, when He finally sets foot on the earth. We won't even look at it, because every eye on earth will be on Him.

Revealed by nature and miracles
You are beautiful
You are beautiful

I don't think we understand much of who God is. I'm learning a little more about Him through these strange moments of prayer and the wonderful sleeps afterwards. This is not to say I'm perfect. I think at least the first 5 minutes are spent complaining and grumbling, feeling rebellious and whining. One day, I will get this down to 1 minute, and then to none. I keep having to remind myself that it is a privelege to be before the Almighty, and an honor to serve Him, because sometimes it sure doesn't feel like it. But sometimes, when the Spirit falls, there is a power in the words we speak that confirm for me: this was not my prayer. It came from my mouth, but it wasn't an invention of my mind. And then afterwards, there are gusts of joy and bursts of giggles (not usually in the odd hours; those seem to be followed by a wonderful peace that causes good sleeps). And there is a new fire that burns in my heart and a deepened faith that causes me to love better, hope brighter, and forgive stronger than I could ever on my own.

Temptation and War

2009-01-14T22:26:00.000+13:00

Yesterday I had a small exciting moment where I thought: I'm just going to jump and trust that You will catch me.

I was looking out of my window at work at the water and the stingrays jumping, and the land on the other side of the harbor, and thinking about Jesus being tempted in the wild places. Adam was formed in the wilderness, and placed in the garden; the garden was tainted by sin, and humankind was banished from it, and sent out back into the wilderness, and we've been trying to make gardens ever since in all sorts of places. Satan tempted Jesus in the desert place by offering Him the world, all the earth and all things in it, right then and there - if He would only worship the tempter. Jesus turned the accuser down, and took back the wilderness for humanity. It's not a place we have to wander in, lost and lonely, any more. But while I was looking out of my window, captivated by the incredible beauty of the day, I thought: You could have had all this, right then. But You chose the temptation in the desert (redeeming the wilderness for Adam), the drops of blood in the garden (redeeming the beautiful places for Eve), and the agony of death (redeeming fellowship with God, tearing the veil and allowing us into the holy place) for love. For love of me, and every other human ever conceived.

I'm so glad that He knows who I am, even when I have these strange moments when I'm just not sure who I want to be. He is the ultimate life coach, always seeing the potential and possibility, having the vision for the finished product and the whole person when I am bowed down by everything I'm not.

What a rag-tag bunch of ragamuffins we are, the human race, strung along by our own hearts and worn out by a world striving ever for immortality! How close we are...if we only knew!

We HAVE to go to war for the souls of our generation, of our world. We are destroying ourselves, eating away at the mechanisms of everything that holds us together. Every one of us is in some way broken, buried, bruised and bleeding, and hiding so well. Each of us an intricately made part of the whole, intimately known and intimately loved, and leaving an incomparable and unassessable hole in the world when we go. We have to go to war for our fellow men and women...or we are lost.

Thoughts on a Mission Field

2008-12-29T18:52:00.000+13:00

let me be one, small in Your presence
never leaving
never turning
except aside to see bushes You've set aflame at the backsides of wildernesses
because You are God in wildernesses and burning deserts
as much as You are God by the ocean, on mountaintops.
if i am small i will be easily moved
and free to obey, free to walk with You in any garden
please can i walk with You in Gethsemane?
i like to think i would never falter
never failing
never leaving
but i know this is only possible
if i walk, hands tucked into Your hands
or, because Your hands are so big and mine are small
i could cling tightly to the edges of Your robe,
and be swept along by the wind of Your Spirit
to go with You into any garden You are in.
what will those gardens be?
will the plants be small brown faces, small ears eager to hear of Jesus who knew them
before He formed this earth?
or will the fruit be the victims of holocausts
we have turned our eyes away from
eastern block countries, Rwanda, India
eyes sunken into faces
hungering desperately for HOPE?
or will You walk where my own countrymen and women are
apathetic, morally conscientious?
wherever You are, i will follow
and i will make my stand
at Your side
under Your wing.
just let me be one, small worshipper in Your presence
never leaving
never turning
except to see You burning bright in unexpected places
never falling
never leaving.

It's over

2008-12-26T15:43:00.002+13:00

Christmas is over for this year; we haven't taken the tree down yet, but that will come soon. I have that bittersweet contentment that comes with this being the end of the season but having the knowledge that this year was simple, but good. Next year will roll around in under a week with more challenges and excitement and a whole bunch more New Years' Resolutions. I don't know many people who keep them, and I only ever make three so that I actually can keep them. This years' was to spend more time with the Lord, be more honest with myself, and get fitter. The first two have been (mostly) kept; the last one only in the last few months. As Rich Mullins said, "We grow slowly, and love takes time". It's not reflection and new resolution time just yet - next Wednesday has room for that - I really just want to write about one of my fires.

I love Africa (and Haiti). I always have. I've never been there. All I have is a short prophecy, the whisper of an understanding from God, and a prayer. I remember I used to run away from the concept of missions, and then used it as an escape from whatever turmoil was 'in the now' that I felt ill-equipped to manage; but it is in the process of becoming something else. It 'grows in my heart' somehow, although I can't explain it. I don't know whether God is using Africa as a vehicle to turn my heart to something overseas, and the destination will change, or whether Africa is the destination. I don't mind, as long as I can walk with Him (and have good deodorant). To be His hands and feet and declare to the worlds that God's people do care, and that we are here, somehow. Sara Groves' last non-Christmas cd and work with IJM does nothing to settle the urge. One of the hardest things is the waiting. room I live in at the moment called 'in the meantime'. I have the inkling of an idea, but it still has to wait.

'In the meantime', I'm having fun learning to use my new camera, which, incidentally, fits beautifully into my inkling of an idea.

Christmas Fires

2008-12-23T13:19:00.000+13:00

This time of year always does something a little bit magical to my heart. It seems that as the advent of Christmas draws nearer, somehow I see more of the good and the beautiful and the potential of people around me, even people who are like sandpaper to me or people I don't know. Everyone takes on a kind of glow, a kind of wonderful fragility - somehow more human, somehow more spirit. C. S. Lewis wrote "How do you tell someone that they are walking around shining like the sun?" And how do you? To somehow communicate to someone that despite the shadows in their hearts or the adventures they haven't embarked on, they are infinitely complex and shot through with light? I find myself turning more outwards each day of this season, but also to the bigger picture.

I'm mindful of the millions of children all over the world who haven't had the Christmas story told to them while they were tucked in bed, eyes huge with amazement; the millions of children raised by parents who were not God-fearing who robbed them of that joy by explaining Jesus away as a myth no greater than the easter bunny; the thousands of humans of all ages who will die this season from hunger, poverty, or sickness, having never heard the story, while we sit in our comfortable homes enjoying Christmas dinner; the millions who will celebrate the day as an ordinary day on which we exchange presents; the millions who will spend the day alone, kept company by the television or a half-empty bottle of alcohol or a quick high. And I remain mindful of the millions of Christians who will spend the day with their families and forget those less fortunate. This Christmas crept up on me (and on a lot of people, it seems) but next year, I want to DO something. I don't know how, or where, but I want to change the day for and share the miracle with someone - or many someones - who hasn't grasped the meaning of Christmas. Salvation is here! And I don't want to hide His light 'under a bushel'.

Each day I get more and more restless. I wonder what the Lord will do next? In me, but also in the body and in the world? Whose garden is He walking in now? I wrote, some time ago, that I want to catch hold of the hem of His robe and be swept by His Spirit into whichever garden He is walking in, to tend and to nourish them. I wondered then, like now, what the fruit of that garden will be...the people of my own nation, weighted down by apathy and the blessed "she'll be right, mate" casuality of our culture? Small brown faces eager with hope? Orphaned children, citizens of countries ravaged by war? There is a 'fire in my belly' for all of them. Where will I go, and how will I make Christmas as exciting for them as it is for me? And in my heart the song is 'how far, how fast, how long?' Like the Amy of Switchfoot's well-known song, I want to 'set a fire in a barcode plastic world', but I want to set a fire in a world where there is no barcode plastic for the majority of the people as well. Where do these fires come from, and how do I know which to lay more kindling and wood on first? I want to have one thing singled out and set ablaze, a roaring fire that consumes everything in its way. But right now, there are just lots of little fires that all seem to be growing at the same rate. Maybe they will grow enough to join and become a raging forest fire. I think that maybe that's an echo of a the sentiments of Parker Palmer in Let Your Life Speak, when he writes: "Vocation does not mean a goal that I pursue. It means a calling that I hear. Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am." Once I know which fires belong, which are from the Keeper of the Plains, I can feed them.

I want there to be no compromise in my outward life, but I want none in my heart either. I want to come to a place where compromise in any of its stealthy, quietly vicious forms can install sprinklers in any of the rooms of my heart to put out the fires that are lit there. I want this Christmas to remain in my heart and grow there, preparing it until next Christmas comes to replace it with a new revelation.

Painful, but precious

2008-12-22T22:57:00.000+13:00

I've been reading a book called 'The God Adventure' by Terry Meeuwsen. Every time I read this book (this is the fifth time) I am struck by the desperate cry from the heart of God to the heart of His people: "Come out into the deep with me!" There is something dangerous and exciting about His call, but more than that, there is something urgent as well. Something that wants to bring us to a point of no return, beyond safety and complacency, into a 'wild blue yonder' that never ends. Something that will complete us, and yet will bring us into a living that full of hope for everything that we are lonely for in the here and now. I am learning to accept the moments when I ache for something more, and not to smother them. I'm learning to grab them, embrace them, and let the ache grow, theorizing that somehow, the glory of God will grow in me until it reflects back to Him just a fraction of His beauty and holiness.

In te last six months has been a curve of learning to hunger for God, learning that being in the river up to the ankles is not enough, up to the knees is definitely not enough, and up to the waist is closer but not enough. The part of the river that is too deep to stand up in, that is raging and wild and powerful, where the river of God is more in control of our lives than we are - that's the place we're called to go. Maybe in steps, from toes to ankles to knees and then to the waist, but I don't think we can see miracles until we dive in. But on the way to the deepest part we have to face ourselves, and facing down ourselves is more terrifying than anything else. For me facing me and who I am was a revolutionary moment. I realized that even though there were things I did like, there wasn't a whole lot I wanted to keep around. And so the crucifixion began; it's slow, but it's gradual. Each day the wilful sinner in me rises to the surface, and each day I try to kill off a little of it. Painful, but precious. Because each tiny death gets me a little bit deeper into that river, until one day I will be swept into the raging current and never return to the shore.

then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth...

2008-12-20T17:44:00.000+13:00

It's almost Christmas! O little town of Bethlehem, looks like another silent night...above your deep and dreamless sleep, a giant star lights up the sky...

Normally this is my favorite time of the year, when the lights and the excitement and anticipation remind me of something I can't put into words - the promise of hope, the unspoken encouragement that this year is finished (fait accompli) but that there is a new one and a new season. It's captured in the carol I love best, O Holy Night (a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices! for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn! fall on your knees, oh, hear the angel voices...o holy night, o night divine!)

It's Christmas. And while you're lying in the dark, there shines an everlasting light...for the King has left His throne, and is sleeping in a manger tonight, tonight!

This is the time of year when we are supposed to remember who Jesus is and be delighted in His presence, remember that He was born to bleed for us and that our freedom and salvation, bought at a great price, should be our greatest treasure and form the underlying foundation of who we are and where we're going. When we were still earthen vessels, we were of such worth to Jesus that He abandoned the glory of heaven for the violence of earth, to walk among us and heal the broken, strengthen the weak and bring joy to those who sorrow. While we were still long lying 'in sin and error pining', He looked ahead to a day when He would 'appear, and the soul feel its worth'. I don't know if I have ever thought deep enough to realise that my soul needs to feel its worth, and the only way it will ever feel its worth in truth and integrity is when it awakens to the wonder of the Christmas story and the incredible depth of character and courage of the God who engineered history to allow for the salvation of mankind. Not just that He died for me, but that He was born for me. Not just that He was crucified and buried for me, but that He was resurrected for me. The Creator of the universe, the Creator of the human race, somehow contained in the tiny body of an infant boy, for my freedom, for my salvation - and that is the worth of my soul to Him. What else is there?

O little town of Jerusalem, looks like another silent night; the Father gave His only son, the Way, the Truth, the Life had come, but there was no room for Him in the world He came to save...

And yet, we have so diminished, banished wonder that we need to replace it with the magic of materialism. It's Christmas. Each year, we see less and less of Jesus and more and more of money (or whatever it can buy that people are desperate for). It was never supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be, and it is, one of the two most precious moments of the year.

As we're sung to sleep by philosophies of 'save the trees, and kill the children' while we're lying in the dark, there's a shout heard 'cross the eastern sky! for the bridegroom has returned and carried His bride away in the night!

I went to Gayfair yesterday. It was packed with teens and preteens and people my age who have packaged their insecurities and labelled them youth culture, with every store and advertiser playing on the need to fit in. It was, in a way, magnificent to look at the world's drawcard and conclude that this year, as with every other year, the story of salvation easily trumps the babble of the world. On one side, the world screams that we will never be enough, never fit in, never hold any worth unless we somehow make the cool grade; on the other side, God with open arms full of the promise that somehow, in all our frailty and shame and humanity, our soul (even as it is, in darkness or light, in hope or despair) has more worth to Him than anything on this earth or in this world. It was sad to see my generation, and the generations following us, so desperate for a now fix that anything will do, except their salvation. But there is hope (and Christmas lights).

What will we miss while we are sleeping? Will Jesus come again, and leave us slumbering where we lay?

We can all be ordinary. Every person on the planet can fit into the category of a Nobody called Ordinary who comes from a small place in the middle of Nowhere. We can stay comfortable and warm. But that's not what the real message of Christmas is. The real message of Christmas (and New Year's, if I may stretch it that far) is that we can all be exceptional in small ways, and we are even called to do exceptional things in large ways, but we can only be exceptional if we have found the true worth of our soul, as valued by Christ. This time of the year is all celebration and excitation within the walls of the church. My prayer is that this year will be more than that - that it will become celebration outside the walls of the church, and that the church will begin to understand that while the building she fellowships in has walls, there should be no walls in the unseen (apart from walls of protection placed there by God). My desire is that the wars between members of the body will be displaced not for a season but for eternity, that each one will find the worth of their soul, and make room for their King, and that in the room they make for their King find their calling and direction.

For as we stand again between the dying of an old year and the birth pangs of a new year and ready ourselves to orbit the sun afresh, we need to be conscious that before the long term God in all wisdom placed the short and mid term. And as we grow into maturity and wisdom individually and corporately, we need to be ever awake to the question that stirs my spirit today: Will we go down in history as a nation that had room for her King?

Our King brings victory by the power of Christ in us. That's what Christmas is about - sin, salvation, resurrection and restoration - God does not need us, but He WANTS us. Enough to send Jesus to pay for our salvation, and to give us the Holy Spirit (the power that raised Christ from the dead, living in us)!

He sets a fire in my belly...

2008-12-05T19:47:00.000+13:00

Before I begin: according to "Safire's New Political Dictionary" by William Safire, fire in the belly is "an unquenchable thirst for power or glory; the burning drive to win a race or achieve a goal; indicates desire to win, particularly the willingness to endure the long contest."

A fire in the belly is something I've been contemplating lately. Partly because I've noticed God setting a fire in mine for a few things, and partially because I've seen in unexpected places that He is setting fires in other people's bellies for something. What I've seen a lot of in people lately is an increasing restlessness, a hunger for something more, a need to MOVE. No more miss or mr nice person sitting in the pew; it's time to move.

Restlessness is one of God's greatest tools to call us back to Him. Sometimes not even back to Him, but further into Him, or into our calling. It's an indication that there is more, and there is greater, and that although we are free to follow our own way, He is tugging at our spirits to fly with Him. But to fly with Him we first have to spend time in His presence so He can show us little by little the course He has charted for us to fly, or walk, or run. Then we give ourselves utterly to His vision, although we see in part, and we MOVE. And when we flap our wings for the first time or take our first faltering step, something miraculous happens. The wind of His Spirit lifts us up off the deck, or He strengthens our tired, weak legs to run. And we are launched into His will through our choice and His strength and purpose - finally on the battlefield!

Ultimately, we are called to war, each of us in our own way. For some of us, it is spending time each day on our knees in intercession. For others, it is warring with unseen enemies, backed by the prayers of the saints. For some, it is being the hands and feet of Jesus to a broken and hurting body in ministry, seeking to bring unity; for others, it is imparting truth. For some, it is being the warm and secure immovable pillars of society, tending gardens at home; for others war is blazing new paths to different places, planting gardens in different ways in strange places. But whatever our position in the ranks, one thing is clear: the commander of the army is incredibly, incredibly strategic, and to serve under Him without committing treason or attempting a coup requires diligence, determination, perseverance, and an understanding not of the entire battle - unless we are called to that - but an understanding of the next piece of action, the next piece of soil we are going to capture from the enemy, and the way in which we are going to take it back. Every word we speak, every thought we have, every action we take in the ordinary things can be a victory, can take back from the enemy what the locusts have stolen.

There are plans God has for me that set a fire in my belly, and I'll write about them at some later stage. But right now, I will close with a pledge that I think every believer should have on their wall and recite daily. Because if the enemy can get you in any of the places safeguarded through this pledge, he will own your ministry or destroy it, depending on the level of your weakness.

A Warrior’s Pledge of Purity
By Jason Lee Morgan

I will have faith that God empowers me for purity
I will have faith that God has something better
I will be encouraged by Your faithfulness
I will sharpen my sword today for purity
I will meditate on purity throughout my day
I will strategize for victory, rather than brace for defeat
I will outline the known of my day
That I may prepare for the pitfalls to come
And preemptively guard against what is known
I will pray before I enter battle
I will pray for protection
I will pray for wisdom
I will pray for strength
I will pray for miracles if need be!
I will take my stand by way of escape
As a coward I shall be in the face of impurity
Only my back shall it see
I will bear the strange appearance of downward eyes
That no impure image be stamped within me
I will go out of my way to avoid the face of impurity
I will hurt the feelings of others if need be, to preserve my purity before You
I will not long for the past, but dwell on what is pure
I will not place others above You as my reason for purity
I will recall Your holiness daily
I will love You with Christ-like love
And sacrifice what is necessary to glorify You
I will recite this daily, that I do not forget Thee

The Sojourner Blog

when words are kind and people are fragile

2008-12-04T22:23:00.000+13:00

life is pretty much a constant learning curve, and if you don't allow yourself to feel - you can never truly gather any heart learning. if it only reaches your mind it's not as real or as thorough as if it touches your heart.

there's a strength i want desperately, and that's the strength that comes from being broken and walking on rough roads, and running to Jesus to let Him bind up the broken and bruised and bleeding parts. it's taken me a long time to get to a place where i'm willing to be vulnerable to others and it does hurt - but it is also the brightest place i've been in. when i see what little i can give i'm not afraid any more to lose what i have.

most things in this world are nothing if not miraculous. in the waiting we are tempered and made patient, in the hurting we are taught to run to One stronger and kinder and more capable of dealing with everything than we are...and He is everything beautiful, everything amazing, and everything that i want to be like.

a short thought on truth

2008-11-18T22:44:00.000+13:00

following God is not supposed to make things easy, i have to keep reminding myself. He does not make things simple or clear [for this is not the way He works new things in us] but He holds us in the middle of the night when seeing things crystal clearly hurts too much. as for truth...truth is beautiful in that it is utterly clear; there are no two ways about it, it is not double sided or twisted or clouded. but truth does not warm the soul. oh, i take it back; truth can captivate and court and romance and set you on fire. but truth can also leave a cold so devastating that no fire can bring life back to the hopes you had.

...the long defeat...

2008-11-03T23:34:00.000+13:00

THE LONG DEFEAT

Sara Groves

I have joined the long defeat
that falling set in motion
all my strength and energy
are raindrops in the ocean

so conditioned for the win
to share in victor's stories
but in the place of ambition's din
I've heard of other glories

I pray for an idea
and a way I cannot see
It's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

I can't just fight when I think
I'll win that's the end of all belief
and nothing has provoked it more
than a possible defeat

I pray for an idea
and a way I cannot see
It's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

We walk a while we sit and rest
we lay it on the altar
I won't pretend to know what's next
but what I have I've offered

I pray for a vision
and a way I cannot see
It's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

I pray for inspiration
and a way I cannot see
It's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

Testimony

2008-02-19T22:27:00.002+13:00

This is my testimony, the place from which I stand, a short glimpse of the window through which I see the face of God, as cloudy as it is. The summary can easily be found in Psalm 86:11: Teach me thy way, Jehovah; I will walk in thy truth: unite my heart to fear thy name.

PROLOGUE

People say that healing is a process. That it is slow. That it takes time. I am sure that this is true. But I am also sure that sometimes, healing is the quickest thing around. I think I knew that it was almost complete when I woke up and realized: this is a good day. Not because I want it to be or deserve it to be, because I’ve come to the conclusion that none of us do deserve much of anything, but because I am free and whole. Healing is complete when the mind is released from its cocoon of sin or shame or hurt or mistrust and aligned with the heart, after the heart has been washed with grace like spring rain and hung out to dry with mercy like summer sun, bleaching every mark or stain white again.

I’m not sure that humans are capable of forgetting anything that truly moves us and to me that renders the phrase forgive and forget irreconcilable with being human. It has been said that to err is human and to forgive is divine; I have found that the ability to forgive is a gift and it is essential to exercise it. To forget is something we fail in. Removing something completely from our minds is virtually impossible, not including Alzheimer’s Disease or any other kind of dementia. But we are able, sometimes, to not remember things as frequently, or to hold every thought captive to the Truth, which of course moves us closer to the Truth. And when we don’t hold on to things so much, and when the past doesn’t hold on to us so tight, is when we have something to give to others and something to fill up our own gas tank (and it doesn’t cost $2.19 a liter either).

We’re all broken somewhere, and to be able to offer anyone anything at all is nothing short of miraculous. I wonder sometimes if we have any kind of right to existence, and I think the answer is no. I’m glad to be alive, though. For those two reasons, being glad to be alive when I’ve done nothing to deserve it which is miraculous and being healed piece by piece, I’ve decided to grow up and be responsible for a change. I don’t mean paying bills and being grown up on the outside, because I’ve done that and been that for a long time. I mean really thinking through where I am, where I’m going, and who I want to be. I am not content to drift along any more, like some butterfly that’s found a warm breeze to get me to the next flower. Now, I want to grow and move and "have my being" and have my being firmly planted by a stream, with my roots in the Water of Life. Putting off working out my salvation with fear and trembling has to stop, and today being a Tuesday, I thought it was a good day to start. There is no reason to leave it any longer. I have to make some ground rules, though; no matter what, I will be honest and I won’t beat myself up any more. I’ll be serious and look at the positive. And I will not resist change or the power of God.

PLACES I’VE BEEN

If I do this properly starting with the past is the best place. Where to start is something entirely different and I’m often tempted to skip it or gloss over it. There are things I’d rather never admit to and things I’d like to change. But taking things easy is not in my nature and living with hope is something that is.

In the last two years I have made some pretty big mistakes that have changed me in ways I’d rather not have changed and learned things I’d rather not know. You can unlearn habits but you can’t unlearn feelings or change how things happened. Three years ago I fell either in intense like/infatuation/not love with a charming Scotsman. It was one of those whirlwind romances you see in stupid Hollywood movies where everything really is too good to be true and all turns to custard. I was deliriously happy. I was also easily led. It took him a couple of months of intense pressure to win. I slept with him under the impression that we "loved" each other and that marriage was just around the corner.

His depression and panic attacks set in about a month after; trying to deal with his past and his father’s influence along with the demands I made - no drugs, no smoking, and no cheating - was too much for him. The things he had given up before getting into the relationship, things I had never known he was addicted to, began to surface and take control of his life, and mine too. The cigarettes weren’t so much of a big deal, although I hated the habit. The drugs, and the irresponsibility that went with them, were a problem. I was frustrated with the way he avoided dealing with the issues and his past, and I was angry at him for messing around with his medication. All the same I loved him and I wanted to help him. I wanted him to be whole and happy. I had known the joy of relationship with Jesus; I knew that having slept together had done some serious damage to my relationship with God and I was desperately lonely away from Him. I knew that God could and would heal him and me if we just surrendered, but instead of doing the smart thing and going to God myself first, I reasoned that if I could just bring him to a point where he could surrender then we could go to God together, at which point everything would be ok.

But that never happened. He was stuck in his ditch, pulling the past into the present and enjoying the comfort of the depths of depression. He said he enjoyed the safety of it, and I could not relate. I could see that his addictions were pulling him down. I didn’t see until later how far they had pulled me down or how much of myself was lost.

I moved away for work and to be closer to family, and he had planned to follow me. That never happened, because we broke up for multiple reasons. What did happen is that I opened my heart and home to a girl who was one of my closest friends at the time. She was in the middle of a rough patch with her husband and left him, having nowhere to go. She came to stay with me without any income, and I welcomed her, hoping that she would come back to God, rediscover her dreams, and become the girl I had known years ago in high school. She went back to her husband to work things out, and I stayed in touch. I got back together with my ex temporarily, on a let’s-see-if-we-can-work-things-out basis.

A few weeks later she told me that she had something to tell me. In the weeks she had stayed with me, she had begun a relationship with my ex. Looking back I see warning signs all over the place, but I never even suspected.

Between job stress and the breakup, I quit coping but kept going. I didn’t do much sleeping and couldn’t keep food down, and lost weight quickly. Around a week later I miscarried. I thought at the time it was the worst thing that could ever have happened to me, and I remember thinking "where does this end? Could life get any harder?" Now I see it as a cruel mercy. Thankfully, the pain of that carried me past the pain of the breakup, and my focus changed. After a couple of weeks I could eat again. Sleeping was harder because of nightmares and guilt and an overwhelming sense of shame. How could I possibly have sunk this low? How did little miss perfect, polished and strong, become so weak and vulnerable? I ate a lot of chicken chow mein, and tried to figure out the consequences and the path I had taken from being innocent to having far too much "carnal knowledge". I wanted to fill books with philosophical rubbish, but I had writer’s block. Finally I told my mother, and I was terrified of her response because I expected her to disown me. I think I was on the point of disowning myself. But she didn’t. Instead, she got in her car and came to spend time with me. She let me cry and hurt and spill a lot of hate-filled words. She and my sister were appropriately infuriated with both me and my ex, but offered the kind of grace I could only hope for. Then I read a Max Lucado Upwords email that had a simple message. It spoke of not procrastinating with getting right with God, that putting off contact with Him until we feel we are a little bit better and more worthy of His reply is something that serves the purposes of the devil, because what better does he like than keeping us away from God?

So I took the first step towards reconciliation and was amazed to find something wonderful: not only did God still love me, He forgave me and didn’t have a huge list of tasks for me to do to get back into His "good books". On the second of May 2007, the writer’s block disappeared and the first piece in months seemed to come from nowhere.

This is the first hesitant, hurting step I take towards You
All in broken pieces, and I know this is not a matter
Of You finding me or me finding You.
I know well You were with me all along and althoughI was last, You never were - You have walked this hard
And bitter road a million times before.
In the beginning You said let there be light
Well, I walked away from Your light
And I now stand on the edge of shadow and light
Deserving darkness, desiring light.
"Turn your scars into compassion, or they will
Mutate into hate", You said to me
Oh, I can’t. How can I now?
But with this first hesitant, one-dimensional
Flame of hope, desire, shame
Compassion begins and glory streams
Healing begins, as I allow grief a foothold
And You, standing near to me
Bring a little peace, a little comfort,
And then, delight:
A little light.

After that writing seemed to come easy. So did trust, although that was a good deal slower. The first year after the breakup I could not help but take all the blame for everything that had gone wrong. By August 07, though, I had begun to hope again. The mornings weren’t empty and the evenings weren’t dull any longer. The ninth of August, 2007, was a good day. I was feeling grateful, writing:

Time is completing what mercy begun:
A new kind of healing.
Some memory-studded sky attached to my earth
Hung by threads of hope
But this earth is new.
Planted deep in soil, my roots watered by grace
Weeds pulled by forgiveness
Leave room for growth and time to ponder.
The evening falling, sure and calm,
In brilliant orange and black
Fading to purples and grays
I stand amazed and quieted
By the way one word from You
Flung far across my continents
Threw out the old and sprung the new
Upon my unsuspecting heart.
I had lost it all
And found my hands were empty: left bereft
I turned to You and buried my head
In my empty hands. But You did not turn from me
Or hide Your face. Instead
You picked me up and held me near
Reminding me that You are my home.
Then, faith renewed, I whispered like a small child lost in the dark:
Jesus, I want to come home.
And You, ever kind, carried me all the way Home.

Things were improving between me and God but not between me and myself. My self-esteem was shattered; I reasoned that I could not have been enough for him, or perhaps I was too much? And surely I could not have been a good friend to her. I tried desperately not to hate her, but I felt as if, had she turned up on my doorstep, I would have met her with a knife. Those feelings did not last long. The hate turned to hurt and then the hurt was replaced by confusion. After a few more months, I forgave them both.

The process with my feelings toward him followed a similar model, but more slowly. I didn't hate him; I felt a strange apathy toward him, and then pity. After pity came some strength, and a firm resolve not to go backwards, cemented by a conversation with a dear friend. I realized then how much my friends had been upset by what had happened. Even so, I didn’t lose all of the hurt or regain any confidence until this year. There were great people, amazing and influential people all around me, strategically placed at the right place at the right time. I didn’t tell many what had happened, although some of them guessed. While things with God snapped back into focus very quickly, things with myself took a lot longer.

CURRENT LOCATION

I’m not sure exactly when I started to care about me again, or when I began to get back even a little confidence. I read a book called Captivating that tore me open and left me in tears, and moved me to change. Over and over again I saw why I made such mistakes, why I felt so betrayed by my friend, and why I lost my self-respect and my confidence. But while a lot of the mending was done reading that book, as with many things a lot of knowledge got stored in my brain without touching my heart. I knew so much mentally, yet knew so little of it translated into emotions.

I started to grow a little, very tentatively. From looking at myself as "damaged goods" that nobody would ever want, I have begun to see myself as less that and more of something else. I do have some redeeming qualities. I am made in the image of a God greater than my comprehension. And damaged goods are invaluable to Him.

I understand that everyone is damaged goods in one way or another. Hope is kind of like a popular restaurant franchise, there’s one in every town along the way, and a drive through in every store. I know that a lot of people would call these places foolish. I don’t know that there’s a better place to be.

Right now, I am in an odd space. I am comfortable with myself as a single person. But in the same breath I must confess that I often wish for and pray for companionship that is greater than friendship. Something deeper. Someone deeper. Someone who will see past the damaged goods label that I so carefully camouflage, and love me regardless. I hope that one day the church will be able to look without labeling, and I will not have to feel twinges of guilt for my misdemeanors. I don’t want to be someone that someone else settles for. Do the mistakes we make determine our worth both now and in the future? Or do we simply chalk them up to experience and carry on making tea, hoping nobody will ever question?

Right now, one of my greatest concerns is how the past would impact the future. Do I sit across the table from someone on a first date and interview them, making sure to check whether virginity is an essential quality in a future spouse, abruptly ending the interview at the yes? Or do I let a relationship roll along, and when it becomes serious reveal the secret and take the response on the chin? I don’t know. I truly don’t have the answers and I don’t know if there is a right time to tell someone. I should probably quit analyzing and assuming I know what the response will be.

October 2007:

Someday we’ll find a place where you and I collide
Where stars cross destiny in one frozen moment
And we come face to face in a new place and realize
We are on fire.
I don’t know your name or the timing
I was simply hoping I would know, somehow,
And if there IS anything I am certain of
It is this: inasmuch as I do not know or understand
The systems of space, circling of planets
The breaking of dawn and the movement of wind
I do know one thing:
Wherever you are tonight you are somehow in my heart
Wherever you go tomorrow you will be on my mind
Whatever you do between now and that moment
I will love you regardless.
Shadows are at the edges of the bay
And the waters move constantly
Wearing away at the shoreline.
And as night sets in impatience tugs at my heart
Wearing away at my soul and my heart
"when will he arrive?"
- I remain steadfast.
Holding you up to our Lord
And praying for your peace.
Someday we’ll find a place where our two hearts collide
Where oceans meet continents and fate meets Home
And we come face to face with the sweet realization
That we are love

My current location with God seems continuously precarious, one moment questioning everything I know and the next moment completely secure in faith and trusting Him for everything. I sin and I falter on a regular basis. That is not something I am glad for, but it is something I must be honest about. People think that I am strong and that nothing shakes my faith. Well, when a backslider comes Home, perhaps there is very little that can shake their faith. But it’s not as simple as that, is it? It’s easy to blame God for everything that goes wrong. But it’s our decisions that shape the directions of our lives and mine were unwise. The only thing that can be done about that is letting God have control. I am getting better over time at handing it over but it is a process.

I don’t want to be too philosophical, but life really is a strange mix of politics, passion, sports of varying intensities and levels, emotions and beauty, justice and peace, ugliness and mercy, spirit and flesh, divine and human. Which angle do we take? How do we assess what is important and what can wait, what is essential and what can be disposed of? I think that it is what defines us that determines how we make our decisions and how we carry out our lives. I want what defines me to be who I am, and who I am to be grounded in the confidence in my faith and in my Savior.

You know I’ve been running all day on roads
That get me somewhere, but lead me nowhere
And this is the first time I’ve sat quietly to think
From the 6 am rising till the moment I came in
I heard the land sing out Your name beneath
A blazing sun that sang the same

And I caught a few moments where unawares
I had joined in the melody
A sweet symphony calling out to You.

From wide lakes to tender oceans that came
Flooding ankle deep to where we stood
From skies that stole my words away swiftly
To the lines of mountains and the cold white snow
That capped them and the endless sea of desert scrub
Everything I saw today was ringing out to you

Even the lights along the harbor’s edges
Were singing out the glory of Your name
This sweet symphony ringing out to You

Every highway and each byway leads me back around
To a place where You are and have ever been
Every moment in Your presence I can hear the air resound
With the radiant song begging You to return before long
Every mountain rises to meet You and every tree points to You
Reminding me my heart is set on You
Is set on You

Romans 5 - We also glory in tribulation, knowing that persecution produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint...for the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who was given to us.

i must go through the valley to stand upon the mountain of God...

2008-02-01T22:30:00.000+13:00

all of a sudden sometimes the day caves in at the end and i feel somehow different. for some reason by the time i get to twilight i'm always asking more questions yet feeling more sure then i did the morning before or the evening that's passed. twilight is beautiful; like sunrise, one of my favorite parts of the day, bringing peace and wonder in like lightning and fading away leaving a lingering feeling of loss and...the temporariness of everything [opens up countless trains of thought and leaves them dangling in different colors attached to various stars].

i am feeling pretty strongly the promise of eternity. and right now i am caught up in the knowledge that this is a valley, but that the valley is ending soon and the mountain will be there to dance upon [before the Maker i profess as Savior]. i can hardly wait for sunset on the other end. it's nice to know i don't always have to be in control.

Did you think you were immune to this
Did you think you could escape without infection
You do all you’re able to resist
Just to avoid the danger of rejection

Memory warns you of the past
When it all went wrong

When you think your life is shattered
And there’s no way to be fixed again
Love heals your heart
At a time you least expected
You’re alive like you have never been
Love heals your heart"

(Third Day: Love Heals Your Heart)

streams of thought

2007-12-22T22:37:00.000+13:00

There is a saxophone solo in my head playing the same progression over and over [some small jazz progression i have slowly become addicted to, the color of jazz seeping in, some overjoyed harmonies of color reaching inwards]. Jazz is best listened to in the evening, curled up with a book (or laptop full) of Pablo Neruda or e.e.cummings, finding streaks in the sky that correspond with the feelings the words conjure up. catching and carrying, new places to adventure to, even if only through some other's eyes and mind and the feeble connection between their memory and their fingers. and somewhere inbetween, small in the huge universe and its revolving galaxies, there is one me and one of everyone else. and as neruda wrote, 'we go on loving love, and in our own blunt way we bury the liars and live among the truth-tellers.' somehow in spite of our own minisculity we think we are big. important. special. and we are unique. but how little we are in it all!

one grain of sand, one daisy; molecules put together in perfect form to capture our innocence and mask our carnality, breaching all that is spirit and all that is flesh and forming creatures called humans. are we bitter?

sometimes we are bitter. but bitterness destroys...are we destroyers? we destroy what we hate, sometimes what we love, sometimes ourselves. am i bitter? i can't find bitterness. i can't find a reason to be bitter. in this feeling of smallness [and every now and then inadequacy] there is something that rejoices in the idea of being able to feel and fight and let go the hurt [sling it somewhere into space, where it can be caught by a wandering angel and burnt in a fury of light]. holding on...will it make us smaller so as to be found unfindable? or will it blow all the darkness up to lengths and depths we have never known in ourselves but only suspected in some others accused of foul deeds? - so much i can't say, i don't know.

i found today a small satisfaction in the simplicity of knowing my heart beats without my control, being aware that even if i paid attention to my breathing it would make no difference; created to live. created to quietly stop breathing when i am called home. not one ounce of hurt or bitterness or openness or fear could stop that. freedom is a strange stage of hope, i have decided, one that crawls across the boundaries and walls humanity erects to keep out rejection or loss. we run, we hide/i run, i hide, safer that way. is safety the way to live freely? or does freedom drive safety to the edge, only allowing it breathing space at the very edge of the cliff, destroying the possibility of safety nets? freedom comes in walking the edges of the worlds we know, knowing against knowledge that just beneath the edges there is the hand of One who crafted our inmost being.

i did not choose before i was born where i would live, who my parents would be, what i would look like or what i would love. i am, simply, a smaller sum of a few parts of my Father and the multiplication of the things i've learned growing up. walking a tightrope in a world full of violence and emptiness, emptiness emphasized by loss, not made to know loss but made to know Love. made to grow into Love. made to walk hand in hand with Love and [fear no evil in the valley of the shadow] let it rip away the dragon layers much as Aslan did with Edmund, letting the good grow [only from its source of Love itself] and tearing the bad away.

"We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountaintops.
Sometimes a piece of sunburned like a coin between my hands.
I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.
Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that is always turned to at twilight
and my cape rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings
towards where the twilight goes erasing statues"

- Pablo Neruda

the more i see, the less i know

2007-08-02T20:28:00.001+12:00

Sometimes I think I just say "I don't know" to avoid telling myself the truth. I'm far more honest with other people than I am with myself.

I have come to the conclusion that "at home" is a feeling I may never know for more than a few moments at a time, rare and precious, enough to fill me up and then slip away again. I think it's a good thing; it's always left me lonely for Home in a fresh way when the being at home feeling fades away. Isn't it odd, the way we struggle to find a place to be but at the end of the day the finding of our own identity is far more important - and shows us far less of where we are going, yet more of where we are NOT going? And the way the world spins beneath me full of open doors and there's only a tiny trail of the end of a comet to show me where to go.