Our Story

These poems were written in my journal over the course of several months, all random and not in order, but as I read through them, I realized there was woven a beautiful story, our story. So enjoy:

First Death
The trees have wilted
and I find I'm pitted
Against beauty itself
Struck now by this beastly death,
And my eyes cannot find the one who took my breath
away;
Eternal day has ended and no more will I dwell in
Splendid bliss
I miss a home already so forgotten,
For I have chosen a life that turned rotten
within
Infecting my soul
I've gone cold from the madness within

Where is this one with a gaze of fire?
I'm broken and guilty,
I'm tied up on the pyre,
Being killed for the garden I have set ablaze,
Yet I'd take it all back just to see your face again;
My God, I'm sorry

The Long Fall Away
Crumbled brick walls
And broken glass alleys
The company I kept
As love lost its way
Childhood a shadow,
Your promises flickered in the fickle
Shadow of a burnt out candle
I walked away framed by dusty windows
Of a life I left behind

The hills we once ran among
Have long since turned to ash
The sunlight is hidden by smoke
And the melodies we sung now seem only to clash
I sought the company of city lights
And of lives that shimmered by
But among the thousand voices of the restless night
I ached for the fire of your forgotten eyes

How did I forget what childhood meant?
All that carefree joy seemed prematurely spent
In restless nights and panicked hours
Where I experienced the depth of a nightmare's power

Till at last the light had faded out
And I wandered to fill this empty art,
A canvas ruined by the blackest paint
The city's lights claiming a promising landscape only feigned-
Desperation disguised as imagination,
And apathy pretended that I was truly happy when
In actuality a child screamed inside,
One who'd give anything to see the light of your eyes

Redemption
I have waited on you many years,
Hidden by the night
But you sought me as a gentleman,
Set to make this right
The story of my dusty soul
Started many years ago
But... I hear you in the distance
And I know that I must go;

For you have leapt the mountains,
And danced upon the seas
You have stolen my affection
As you waited here for me
To all of my defenses, you called for them to cease
And at once I was lost in your eyes
As the one who has found her peace

I started to believe you would never find me here
But even in the darkness I knew that you were near
Night rendered me lost, I was abandoned by the sun
But you fought to bring me Light
Though the darkness was my own

As I limped on paths abandoned
You carried me away
Out from ash--filled valleys
Into the light of day

My Beloved's
In the quiet dark my restless heart still beats
With an aching that sorrow could never defeat
When I've lost all else this one reality stays true
My soul was formed to brazenly run after You

Sometimes I'm still too weak to stand
And all I see withers in this dry and dusty land
You seem so far yet I'm the one walking away
But with whispers of beauty, you call me to stay

So I'll run ahead
With my eyes fixed on you
I seek for nothing less
Than to Gaze on your Beauty
Through the darkest depths,
Only your light stays true
So dearest Jesus,
I'll stay madly in love with You

So I'll run where you call me to,
Not for my sake but so that I know you deeper
And yours is the acceptance I crave
Oh, Eternal one, my heart has sought you out
I could be content with nothing else,
Being in your arms right now
You are beauty from before all else that lives
And worthy of more than everything I could give.

And above all else, I'll stay madly in love with you

He is Mine (Vows of the Bride)
I promise before you to respect Your name,
Knowing you are Holy and good
but also wild and free, refusing to be tamed
I vow to set myself apart for you alone
that apart from you I belong to none
I promise to seek you before all else, that
I might never be desensitized to your voice.
I vow to learn the balance of Beloved and
Lord, that I could bow and love in purity
Him whom I adore.
I promise to never seek out a plan B,
And to make you the only Beauty my eyes can see

I will daily waste it all for you,
The only one whose love is true

Daily I will meditate on the words you have spoken
Until every doubt and misconception be broken
I will walk with you day by day,
Content to listen to your gentle whispers
Leading my way
I promise I will not hide away the gentle
Spirit you have given, but rather let purity
be the identity I dwell in.
Intentionally, I will live for your Beauty and Glory,
Refusing to allow the insignificant to cloud your Story.

I will rise while the world yet sleeps,
That firstfruits of wisdom and Kindness I might reap
To provide for your children in love,
I will produce for them more than enough
I vow to remain vigilant in nights of long suffering
That I might not be found lacking when the wedding bells ring
Daily will I open my heart so you might heal
The broken scattered parts
I promise to prepare your family for days of darkness,
To let my home be kept pure when all else has turned to mess
That in all responsibility laid upon me
I would take on with dignity and grace,
That I might be found surpassing the rest in purity and Godliness
when at last I see you face to face.
I vow to live a life of rest and peace,
Always found content in your heart, not striving to please.
I promise to dance with you, not for,
In all my years, now and forevermore.
In sickness and health, whether in times of peace or madness
That your Glory be manifest in my willing weakness.

Never will I give myself to another
As long as you remain the perfect Lover.
I give you permission to take everything,
It's all only for you.
I'm letting Go that you might make me New.

Beauty

Beauty.
I see it in a sunrise, I hear it in poetry
In a frozen wasteland, even though I must search fervently,
It can still be found in a single snowflake's design
Or in someone's tears as they search for the Divine

Beauty is something far beyond a model's makeup
More than a painting; in its essence, it is worship
One only need step outside and listen to a bird's joyful song
To feel a sense of peace, knowing we exist because we too belong

You were placed on this delicate planet for a purpose
When you see beauty, it is a sign that you are so much more than worthless
You were masterfully sculpted by the greatest artist
And only by sin was your beauty tainted in darkness

Once, you were clothed in righteousness
But sin took your robes and left you with nakedness
Yet even so our souls remembered that beauty
And despite our rebellion, we sought it out desperately

We built our own gods, we worshiped our idols
Hoping we could recreate our own revival
But without the author of art
How could our redemption hope to even start?

And so we wandered in darkness
In the midst of our brokenness 
Yet only by God's guidance
Could we truly call Beauty to remembrance

So despite our struggle for anything but Christ
He still came to Earth willing to pay the ultimate price
Thus true Beauty was rooted in crimson love
By the scars on his back that proved HE WAS ENOUGH

As a result, in our fallen world
There is still beauty waiting to be unfurled
If only we open our eyes
Then we could begin to recognize

That the song echoing in our soul when we were born
Still rings out across this perfect world so torn
The song of ultimate beauty wrapped in thorns
Bursting at the seams, God's love adorned

Story Worth Telling

The edge of endless water drew her closer, ever closer. It lapped at her bare, dirty feet, at though it might wash her pure of the barren land that coated her skin. As she looked on the rolling, dark waves, the dust cleared away in streaks under her drowning eyes, and the ocean cleansed her feet, and she was ankle deep in a life brand new.

Before her in a small boat awaited the king who dared ransom her, smiling with a wild love that scared her more than the deep sea ever could. And further out, too far for her weary arms to swim, was a ship with sails that laughed at the call of the wind and danced to the tune of distant lands.

To step, ragged and most undignified, into that boat meant farewell to everything, perhaps her own life. She didn’t know what lay beyond but the freedom that glistened in the eyes of him who had saved her told her this was a chance at life that few people would ever see….

With another glance back at the bustling streets and milling crowds as they wandered with empty smiles and empty lives, she smiled sadly and stepped into a choice that could lead to death or life, suffering or joy, but a choice she knew would lead to a story worth telling.

[First draft excerpt of a story I'm finally putting to paper. I wanted to get the theme portrayed in a couple of paragraphs.]

One Day, Today

My whole life has been bathed in the idea of
"One Day"
A deep hope of future freedom, a day when I'll be able to say with a genuine heart, "I'm doing alright."
I've for so many years been looking ahead and waiting for my abandoned soul to be seen, for the curtains to be drawn back on these dusty rooms once called dreams.To be seen and to see that old things can be beautiful,and though sorrow demands to be felt, it will not dwell in permanence.
I have always had this deep affection for a Self that lives in the future; always envisioned her as joyful, perhaps even free.
It may be that this affection is all that pushed me through the worst times and most desperate days.
I knew only this, though self'hatred and pain of now covered it up: I knew, someday, one day in the future, I would learn what it means to be alive... to be free.
On the days I believed I couldn't ever live an abundant life, I still had this sneaking suspicion that maybe she, that future self, could.
And what I've come to realize in recent days, is that the day of freedom has finally arrived. Not with a triumph or explosion-I did not celebrate in a fanfare of victory...
Rather the Day came in a simple moment of peace as I stared up at the mountains that once seemed impossibly far and  I knew I could climb them.
It came in the laughter around a fire as I sat and played guitar with friends with whom I could go on adventures and talk about Beauty, and know I was understood.
It came when I looked my demons in the eye and knew they no longer had power over me,
So long have I fought for "one day" and I recognized recently that in my mundane and ordinary, I see and feel the extraordinary in a simplicity I once never would have dreamed of. And when a friend smiled and told me they were cheering for me, I dared to believe them.
And the thing about living is you don't really notice it all the time. As your breath runs in and out in a steady rhythm, love and peace become part of every moment.
I have those under my authority who admire me as both a leader and friend, and those above who believe in me and want to see my dreams come true.
I've still got healing, of course, and in a lifetime I don't think that will ever really go away.
Scars rooted deep enough never truly leave; they only fade with time, eventually ceasing to ache but still remaining as a memory of old wounds.
But I can gaze into the mirror and reflected now is beauty and beaming life. And for the first time I can smile softly at that war-torn face that has endured such sorrow and loss, and say, "You're doing alright, brave girl... You're doing just fine."
And with that I walk away, not to a life that seeks to prove me wrong, but to a world that opened up the minute I decided I valued beauty more than I needed perfection to be free.
I don't have to be flawless, I only need live with my heart wide open to the marvelous and captivating wild this world is filled to the brim with. And though an open heart leaves room for pain, I am able now to feel it as the shore feels the rushing waves- it passes over me and as it comes, it leaves behind new life and perspective. In the face of an entire ocean of beauty and mystery and adventure.... what is a wave in view of that?

Wandering Soul in a land of false comforts

Come all you who wander even still
Dissatisfied in the

false comforts 

that come

at whim and will,

Always a step, touch away, we

we have for too long amused... 

ourselves with meaningless trifles, never knowing how it stifles

the deeper

longing within to be free

Our chains have been

                                       pleasure and pain,

both sought in vain to ease the healthy                         yearning

within our very souls;

Our shallow hearts have

gone old and grey.

Yet we stay in the very poison that numbs

Our minds

and quiets our souls
Ah, but still you

are wandering,

Looking for what is so much more deeply satisfying,
your deepest soul

defying the numbing poison that

all this time                    

 would keep you denying

your love of

the most Beautiful One...

And you wander with an                

Aching soul,

knowing your heart was never meant to be      

poor,

Perhaps an impoverished

spirit

Is deeper than a reality we accept as truth-
Perhaps it is an embedded lie we've believed

from the days of our youth

But a voice

so familiar yet foreign

Cries out
to those who                                      

seek...

"Come,"
Not demanding

...a single thing,

but rather offering what can only be called

A life breathing joy

He's never offered anything less than

total satisfaction for our eternal desires,

A promise to be a blazing fire in this cold wilderness
to calm this empty chill that seems so dire.
What else could the answer have been than 

                        this infinite one, could it be He,

who breathes

  life within?

You're                      

the only answer, 

The only mystery

that makes sense-

Sacrificing yourself as

 my beautiful recompense,

Wholly flawless

and

perfectly holy...

                             

I find 

myself a patchwork of sin and lies,

covering myself in a                                 

Mismatched Disguise

to claim some sort of compromise 

simply that...

... even still.... I might not be laid to shame

But yet comes perfect beauty so near,

to not break my heart but turn it                    

pure and clear

and I am clothed in righteousness

at the simple knowledge of His name;

Where I deserved the shame I hid,

and the pain amidst my weary soul,

His recompense for me was to let me be rid of sorrow 

and cleansed

                               for a purer tomorrow

with Him.

Passion and Peace

My presence runs deeper within you than bones and marrow, more intimate than your very thoughts. Your identity in me is in very DNA of more than your cells, but indeed of your very soul.

Come, drink in deeply from the wells of my presence. In the moment my breathe hits the oxygen of your veins, your soul will begin to glow, brighter than any darkness could penetrate or hide, and my presence pierces deeper than bone and marrow, deeper than words or songs could ever move you, more intimate than anyone could ever be is my presence in you.

Can you feel it? The life coursing between the very fibers of who you are? I've knitted you together in the most beautiful, passionate ways, connecting you with every strand nearer and nearer to me.

The more you open yourself the more I can sow into your soul, making you not only look like me but smell, act, speak, sing with my voice in you.

Drink deeply beloved, for I am in you like fire from the deepest furnace, like water from the deepest well, mixing and dancing together, passion and peace.

Deeper than marrow and closer than thoughts is my presence in you. 

Quiet in a world of Busy

It seems no matter where I go, what I do, there's always an expectation.

Do something.

Doesn't really matter what, but whatever you do, don't remain still, lest you be caught lazy or weak.

Silence in a conversation is seen as awkward,

And wandering in the quiet, alone, makes you strange.

Even in the church it seems if you aren't speaking out, if you're not praying loudest, singing in worship, participating in small talk with the strangers around you,

You are doing it wrong.

When did we lose the art of stillness?

God Himself said, "Be still, and know that I am God."

In 1 Thessalonians, 1 Timothy as well as other places, the authors encourage us to live "a quiet and peaceful life," and the greek original wording in some of those passages even refers to leading an "ambiguous" life.

I'll be honest, small talk is and never has been my forte.

Deep down I long to have beautiful, soul drawn out conversations with the people I do not even know, and much more the ones I do.

That I might have a purpose to all that I do, not merely to entertain myself and those around me with trivial things and moments of relief from solitude.

Be still, and know that He is God.

We speak so frequently about the "still, small voice" of God, yet rarely do we put the lifestyle of stillness and quiet into practice.

Our culture is busy, always running around, distracted by everything. If we aren't dealing with drama and stress in our own lives, we seek it out in the lives of others, celebrity gossip, the big media craze.

Yet we were never told to be conformed to the culture around us. In fact, we ought to look entirely opposite from the world, being transformed through the renewing of our minds.

Yet here in the chaos we run, chasing after flashing lights and pretty ideas, as though having the right catchphrase, knowing the right culture, finding the right career... as though those things even matter.

I've seen couples who live like this. Always busy, never around each other to just be quiet and be around one another. And even when they are just in the house, without the world to attend to, still they amuse themselves with the trivial, the merest moment of boredom too much effort to endure. Addicted to the smart devices, though their bodies rest, their mind stays active, trying to solve some deep need and desire, like the things on a screen really even matter.

How deep does the Father's pain run as He seeks us out only to find us seeking anything else to stay distracted from the beauty of Him?

Here he has formed us, given us life blessed and free, yet I feel I can't give him the time of day, much less every part of me.

To live a quiet, peaceful life.... Do we really know what peace is anymore?

Silence is clouded by the humming of cars and engines, and the cultural norms shut down the idea of of even spending time alone for peace, without being occupied by distractions and trivial games the world gives us to play, or more broken inventions that we hide from the light of day.

To just be able to sit in the presence of God, without DOING anything... To us it doesn't seem possible, if anything it sounds like boredom manifest.

Yet truthfully since I have begun to embrace that stillness, I've found my life feels more fulfilled. Not for sake of doing something better or achieving greater but simply being able to listen to the only one who truly knows what He is talking about.

We act so wise, like we have it all sorted out, like God must not know what He is talking about. We think him old fashioned or outdated. Yet who are we to see him as less than the almighty? We who are but children, trying so desperately to be grown up with a soul that was never meant to face pain.

G.K. Chesterton said once, "It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” "

We make our world seem so complex that God has no room to move, for in our minds, in order for him to influence us we must have the right worship, proper and respectable behavior, read the right scriptures, look enough like we have our lives together. Then, we think... only then will He move.

Yet the truth could be nothing further. It is not in our propriety that God finds his place, but rather in the simple spirit of a child, someone who wants for nothing more than to spend time laughing and dancing with the most beloved father.

What made us so convinced life must be complex? In nature, yes we see a beautiful, delicate balance as all creation responds to him, but it was only ever in simplicity and love that he created the world. Simple words he spoke and then he smiled and said, "Yes, this is very good."

We humans argue about petty and pointless things, when in reality we are simple, lonely children, trying to wander around without our father, as though in the supermarket, distracted by the fancy things on shelves and acting like we are knowledgeable about what we do or where we walk, but we are merely children after all.

A friend of mine once said, "Oh how I long for the day when we can sit at the feet of the Holy One as children listening to their father tell the most magnificent story of all. Then we will be free."

Eternity with Him doesn't start when you reach the pearl gates of Heaven.

Eternity starts now, when you forget the expectations the world has placed upon you, when proving yourself no longer matters as He tells you how much He loves you. Now, dear children, now you may come and rest.

He is the father who will run with you in the fields when you have more energy than you know how to handle.

He is the dad who stays up into the night as you cry from the pain of this world and makes you hot tea, listens as you pour out your heart to him, wraps you nearer.

He is the one who takes you on long walks to show you all the beauty in this world, gleefully teaching you about the birds, the stars, the paintings of sunrises he designed just for your eyes.

He is the father who makes you rest when you don't want to, because he knows what is best, and the one who will run and throw a ball around so you get the exercise you need.

When did we stop being children?

Why is resting in his love not enough any more?

We are simple children in a complex world with a knowledge of Good and Evil that only makes us old and tired.

Come to him, all you weary and heavy laden.

Come to him, let the little children come.

For to those who have the wonder of a child, the greatest Glory shall he reveal.

Many are called, but those chosen are the ones who dared dream of greater. When He tells them a story they have the heart to believe that maybe miracles could happen and maybe,

... just maybe

Love wins.

Come to Him, All You Weary...

Perfect beauty formed us from the breath of his kiss. Never waiting for is to draw near to him, instead choosing from the predestined moments of history itself that He would choose to desire us. To come to us. Draw closer than we could even believe we ever deserved.

When we ran and hid in shame, he sought us out, never in hatred, not a breath of contempt on His lips; he only asked of his beloved, 

where are you?

The majestic, holy prince of peace only ever wanted us to turn our face so he could look us deep in the eye: him who knows us more than we know the worst parts of ourselves, and tell us, sing melodies over us, into us, telling us again and again, through the world he created, the songs nature sings, over and over repeating a melody that only ever needed to say 

"I love you, my child... I desire you, my beloved. I know you, lost son."

Al this life we've lived apart from him, only ever truly surviving; in all this time He only ever wanted to be reconciled, to draw us back, in the most beautiful way, to that freedom of intimacy and knowledge of him.

His heart has never condemned, only called our to us, the lost and unloveable, come back.

He never expected us to be good enough for his glory.

Only that we might let him show and reveal his love for us.

The heart cry of the father is that we turn our face to him, not to prove anything, but to gaze him deeply in the eyes and let him speak love into the most dusty corners of our souls.

So open up...

Let the daylight in, let the light shine forth

In the dusty places let his love break through,

That you might walk in peace down to the darkest places 

With his love lighting your way

Kadosh

This is adventure with you.

To collapse the walls I've built up inside til I have no place else to hide. 

To melt sorrow and the chill of hardened pain

And let it be swept far to the side, like structures of sand in the pouring rain

Teach me, Darling One, once more how I ought love free,

To live even for one day in the identity you've set for me.

For a day to live soft, to love open, 

For that this shell life I'd gladly bring to an end

I yearn to be weak without cost, 

To feel pain and bring out of stagnation

The identity I have lost.

To live for you was never intended to be life lived strong

But rather life set apart,

Until the lies erase and what remains is flawless art.

Jesus, take this pen, 

The hands I use to create, 

Express,

Take my voice and let them be

Consecrated, Lord, to Thee

This, my sacrifice, not out of a religious spirit pouring lies. 

My desire is for you, to be your Bride, spotless and fragrant before you.

Let me understand completely the beauty of this Kadosh you have called me to live.

I set these gifts you have granted me at the feet is the most worthy of Glory. 

As the widow smashed fragrant oil, valuable and desirable,

At your feet,

Wasting worldly greatness for love, 

True love alone,

I break my gifts as an offering to be spent on you, Beloved, alone.

I desire these for naught but you,

That they be set apart for your Beauty to be magnified, 

Made manifest in me.

I pour myself out and what I could offer as this, my sacrifice, that my soul might be dedicated 

For you.

So let every word I write, every note I sing, 

Be consecrated and pleasing in your eyes. 

Let no word I sing or write be anything you would not desire.

My first fruits belong to you;

Use them as you will, 

My Lord, my Love.

In Over My Head

Recently the only thing I've been hearing, over and over again, is

"The pressure's off."

But right along with that, just as frequently, He keeps saying I'm "in over my head."

There's the challenge of love, true love.

See, it's about more than just happy days and comfortable moments. It's more than just challenge and struggle. It's the perfect balance of both.

On one hand I find myself relieved and encouraged in the knowledge that I'm not in control. It's almost joyous knowing I don't have to control or even understand the outcomes of my decisions.

I can merely listen to the best Father, because ultimately He knows what's best anyway, and follow what He gently directs.

But I don't have control.

It sounds romantic, beautiful, even perfect to follow the perfect father's wisdom, but there is the fear that lingers still.

Though the Father is good, His children are not of the same kindness or goodness. When I follow that way my Papa would prefer, those around me fight, struggle, yell, tell me I'm a failure or I'm wasting my life.

As I look at my heart, my desires, the faith I hold dear, it's the easiest thing in the world to give up control. He knows what's best anyway, so why ever doubt him?

Yet likewise my sacrifice of what I think is best, or what the flesh would have me believe ultimately either leaves me under the control of others, who would tell me God is wrong or I don't hear him, or else I lose those relationships I would hold dearest.

To choose between the way of the earthly father and the way of the Heavenly father, that is the most painful thing to do.

I spoke to a wise mentor of mine the other day and he told me this was the hardest season I would ever face, which is exactly what God has been saying anyway.

A week ago, I said farewell to the oldest friendship I had, dating back from 6th or 7th grade. The friend trashed me, hurling false accusations at me and assumptions that I'm a terrible friend, that all I do is trample people. So I must fight in the midst of a tension that plays on the line of true conviction compared to self condemnation.

Following Christ is going to result in false accusations that will hurt like hell and cause pain you should never have to bear, but it will also result in true conviction that I can either ignore or grow from.

That's where it is encouraging to me that I'm in over my head. Because I know I will deal with my fair share of both situations. The only thing that will keep me from either pride or self hatred is my total reliance on a Father that will both discipline and encourage me. He knows best, and as such it is the most beautiful, fulfilling sacrifice in the world to free fall into the arms of my Beloved. I can't control it, but the sacrifice is only for my benefit anyway, so why would I want to control it?

And see, even though my life will have a good portion of conviction and challenge in it, and I won't know how to become the person I was designed to be in the first place, there is still that wonderous promise, the gentle whisper of the great Comforter, that gently reminds me, every day, all the time,

"The pressure's off."

I don't need to have it all together now, and it's okay that I don't live up to the highest standard. After all, the only reason my Papa set that standard to begin with was to help me become whole. Hammering my soul with the lie of perfectionism is the exact opposite of His gorgeous plan.

I can't expect to live life abundant and at the same time wear myself to nothingness through the lie that I must be perfect now. That lie will destroy the very joy and life you seek so desperately to obtain.

"But how do you become happy with yourself? I think it comes down to living authentically and kicking harmful obsessions, like the idea of perfection, to the curb. Perfection does not equal happiness." - Ingrid Nilsen

One thing I've been learning recently is the art of consistency. If you want to grow in a healthy way, be consistent, not complacent. Don't be stuck doing the same thing over and over, but at the same time, don't assume that you have to have it all figured out in one go.

If you make a mistake, don't beat yourself up, but learn from it and grow. That doesn't mean you won't ever make the mistake again, but it does mean the difference between being enslaved to something and struggling with that thing. As someone once told me, freedom doesn't mean you'll never struggle, it means you learn how to win quicker.

So where now it might take a week of healing to get over one incident of feeling rejected, if you keep processing, keep being stubborn enough to choose freedom, eventually what took weeks will now take minutes to brush off, and eventually you won't struggle with rejection again.

It's the art of daily sanctification. You are holy, so there is no pressure to be perfect when in a Father's eyes you already are holy. Yet also you are being made holy, day by day, hour by hour, through the conviction and discipline of the Holy Spirit.

Consistency.

It is not toil to be sanctified daily, it is a good work, and you must not remain complacent in your faith, but rather consistently be purified and made holy.

Sanctification is a habit, not a one time deal.

For that reason, the Sabbath is called a day of atonement. Weekly you should be coming to the Father and laying yourself down again and again, pressing more and more into him as weeks progress into months and years and you grow into the life He has called you to.

We will never be able to get our lives under control. That is part of the curse of sin. That though we might pick weeds, they'll spring up again in another week. It shouldn't fill you with shame when the weeds pop up, but you shouldn't let them keep growing and choke out the fruit you are attempting to bear. You should weekly be going out, routinely checking for the weeds so you can keep them from causing damage.

I'm in the beginning stages of learning what that life means.

Still I find myself drowning in weeds planted by others, and though it's unfair and I shouldn't have to even deal with the weeds, I must struggle to be rid of them, in order to be truly healed.

I'm learning the hard lesson of being in over my head. I can't control anything but my own actions, and the ramifications of giving up the pain of others which I've weighted on myself is enough to terrify me.

Though it is beautiful to give up control, it is painful. And I'm learning the full depth of that reality, through floods of tears and months of my false identities being torn apart, the unhealthy relationships being ripped away, and being sown together into a masterpiece.

We all want God to construct us into something beautiful, but we forget in order to do that he must rip away the old and broken, that which is torn and burnt, and in order to sow the beauty back into us, he has to use a needle, over and over again, consistently, persistently, until we are holy and whole.

That is the beautiful hardship I mull over as the future is terrifying and uncertain and the past so broken I can hardly bear the pain.

All I can do is fall, free and fast, headfirst into the deepest waters, because that is where the healing begins, and that is where His arms will catch me, as I fall and continue to fall, deeper and deeper.

"And you crash over me, 
and I've lost control but I'm free.
I'm going under, I'm in over my head.
Whether I sink, or whether I swim, 
Oh it makes no difference when I'm 
beautifully in over my head."-Bethel

But one thing I remember, and this I hold onto dearly for it is the most beautiful reality;

The pressure is off. I'm free in His arms.

Weaker than Ever Before

It is the time of resting.

A "Season of waiting."

In the quiet of the stillness, I have two options,

Either I dwell in the pit of my lonely brokenness,

Or,

I abide in the love of my Father's endlessness

Our life is a collection of choices, 

Some good

Some bad.

It's up to us whether we grow or fall.

My heart is a gem, and my Father is its caretaker.

In everything I do, my heart is either made pure or else covered in grime.

My choice.

If I do not allow my caretaker to cleanse me, to breathe life into me,

I cannot shine for any to see.

My goal in life is not that I might be a light unto which all can see.

All I want is to be able to be the light in a single dark room.

In a pitch black world all it takes is a candle to bring illumination.

But I choose.

Do I let my flame be fed and nourished by the oxygen of the Living God,

or do I suffocate it, let it turn to coals?

These are the thoughts that coat my mind as I rest in this place of waiting.

Choices.

Do I choose weakness or strength?

The hardest thing I could ever do is let go entirely.

I am constantly falling, that's all this mortal life is.

But I choose where I fall. 

Either I fall into the abyss of darkness, lonely agony in a world that only wants to tear me apart,

Or I fall into the arms of Jesus, constantly falling back into His embrace,

It's terrifying either way, but only one outcome is full of adventure, longing fulfilled,

Life Abundant.

If I choose strength, I fall into the abyss. I don't trust that my King can protect me, I believe in my own caretaking.

But all I've ever done is dropped and shattered my heart, a clumsy fool holding the delicate soul

Yet it's so terrifying to admit weakness. To hand over my glass heart to the only one who ever kept it safe. 

And it is here, in the loneliness, that I gather up the pieces, all shattered from the "strength" I fought so hard for.

I hand them to Him, shame on my face and in the wake of my broken actions I have no choice but to admit weakness.

It hurts, and embarrassment courses through me, but as I am forced to accept how weak I am, 

He heals the shattered pieces, restores them,

Embraces me and calls me His own.

In the moment of my greatest weakness, the strength of His arms upholds me

Falling.

Always falling,

But these days I'm learning that the fall is nothing to fear.

Weakness is my only strength, because it's Him, and all the strength and love in the universe, keeping me upheld.

I used to think my strength was my only savior, that if I just kept up a good face, seemed okay, everything would somehow end up like that.

Yet all that false strength ever did was bind me to my weakness, put up masks that defined me in a darkness that shadowed my very essence,

It was only by my weakness that the darkness lifted and I felt the light of day once more.

In the revelation of my reliance on Him, I find myself weaker than ever before,

Falling, 

until my breathe runs dry and my eyes are finally opened, to stare into the face of my beloved.

One day peace will come, but until that day arrives, 

we are always falling.

The abyss of love or death, one of those two things must embrace us, and it is only by falling continuously into His loving arms that we have the assurance of a hope unseen, the hope of peace and rest in His beautiful heart.

Cost of Freedom

What made us believe that grace has no fee?

What made us believe the cost of life was free?
We live in a world full of darkness and doubt
Of people longing for some way out
Out of a planet full of the impoverished dying
Lost souls denying
Children crying
Stuck in world where those who lead are lying
Planet Earth is spinning aimlessly through space
Hoping if we keep on turning, the past will just erase
We yearn for some peaceful place
But don't know how our current lives can be replaced
To live life abundantly requires a price
Yet we deny that cost was paid by Christ
And so we keep spinning in a world of Pain
As the children keep screaming His name in vain
It's not so much that God hasn't given us life
The problem is that we much prefer strife
Freedom is something we all want to hold
So we fight against bondage, we won't do as we're told
We are rebels, prodigals, the lost and unlovable
Hoping that the price of freedom is feasible
But in our search for independence
We don't call to remembrance
That our freedom is represented in pierced hands
We are a selfish people in a fallen land
We ask how we can be free if our lives are planned
But forget that we breathe because of a single man
Freedom isn't about going your own way
It's about escaping the bondage caused on that one day
When we chose choice over being molded clay
The true freedom of God was taken away
So every day we breathe death in
Our eyes clouded by the fog of sin
Yet even in the darkness, it's not to late to give in
By giving hold of our lives to our creator, we can still begin
Life isn't about freedom from a Father
It's about freedom to worship as His sons and daughters
So for now, darkness still reigns
But someday there will be a time without chains
Where we are free to live as we are designed
On that day, the views of man and God will be aligned
Was it in our darkness we thought grace had no fee?
Yet we still can live, because Christ set us free

Wedding Symphony

The trees dance with the twirling wind, laughing as the breeze grazes branches gently
Streams hum a soft melody, lulling to sleep the world nearby
And the mountains bellow, beckon, standing tall and proud, almost able to touch the sky

We seem so distant from their simple melodies,
The way the breeze and leaves and flowers all make harmonies with each other

It's just another language muttered, an alien one we can't understand

What we don't see is this intertwining concoction puts together a symphony designed by the one Composing Divine
It's not just a sound, it's a song. Nature, crying out for the revelation of the sons of the Perfect Father;
A song of Creation, the Creator designing a composition of diverse and perfectly unified lyrics that all say
In a thousand, million different ideas and ways,

"I love you."

It's simple really. 

This earth, so perfectly, flawlessly balanced. Every piece playing its part exactly as directed.

Part of it is groaning in pains, hoping for the better tomorrow, when perfection will replace the bitter sorrow

But the song is still there; that beautiful symphony, written just for us.

As the mountains loom far above, I question and wonder, if I was standing at its roots and it came alive, claimed it was a god,

How terrified would I be? To feel so small in its deep shadow...

Yet what must I think of the One to whom that mountain is a mere speck of dust? The one who created that mountain is so big, to Him it is a simple pebble. How much more fear and reverence ought we have for this Great One, too vast to comprehend?

Surely if there was ever something worth being afraid of, He would be it.

But I think of the smallest flower... Tiny, intricate beauty, that does not command attention, doesn't stand out to the world. So detailed, in such a way that no one could possibly replicate it to the exact beauty.

You might be the only one who ever notices that flower, whose life is just a breath. That, too, was designed by that Great God. The Intimate God.

And He calls us, invites us to learn our part in this complex dance, to dance with Him, this Spirit that spirals all around us, through us,

beckoning, 

taking our hand.

So we join in the song of creation's cry, singing a romance, one that yearns with every note for the Return of the Beloved King.

The Spirit prepares the Bride for the wedding dance, practicing, tripping, but slowly getting better.
As we listen to the symphony God is writing in and throughout His creation,
we learn our part, making melodies to sing in love to our Beloved.

One day, it will all hit a crescendo.

On that day the Gospel will be preached around the earth simultaneously. That is when we step in sync with the groaning melody of nature, with the Spirit within that cries out,

"Come for your Beloved one!"

As we speak the truth of the joy of our Salvation, we come together as one Body, one Bride,
dancing the wedding dance and singing the tune in one Voice;

United, we will cry out, "Come!"

The climax will erupt with the tearing open of skies and our Bridegroom will come,
riding like lightning on the clouds, more beautiful than we ever could have imagined.

United at last.

Creation groans in the hope of the revelation of the Sons of God. 

It cries out, asking and inviting us to take up the dance, play our part in the song.

We can see through it both the intimacy and vastness of the Father.

The oceans stretch before us, make us recognize our smallness, humble us.

Yet in hidden places the secret beauty reveals how deep His love goes. Intricately designed moments of love for your eyes only.

He is inviting us to dance with Him, to learn our unique part in this song and join in the Symphony that so diversely and complexly knits the body together as One.

This invitation is unceasing, unwavering, never losing passion.

The question is, Will you join in?

Breathe

A beautiful moment of clarity.

In a split second, it all goes away-

All the stress, the madness, the terrible reality of how messy everything is. 

It all seems so distant from here. 

In the higher hills, the air is crisper, with more life, a greater sense of peace. 

The smog of insanity is left behind.

When you take a step back, it's easier to see the order, the simplicity. 

Humanity is messy.

There is so much drama, bigotry, fear, misunderstanding.

Yet from here that all dims, fades to black. 

All I can see is the movement of the cars, the trees, the clouds softly pouring out.

It all fits together like an intricate dance, changing and evolving every moment like the flicker of a fire.

In a moment it will once again fade back into madness. But it seems easier to deal with everything when you take a step back.

The chains that bind me are loosened when I back away from the harsh reality.

Up here, I have no one to enslave myself to.

Back in the world of darkness and fear, I enslave myself to everyone and everything. 

From the cars on the road to people in charge of me to my closest friends. 

I subconsciously believe that if I don't do exactly what is expected of me, I'm a failure.

It is sparked from the same idea that was drilled into me all those years ago-

When chains were bound without consent, where I learned to never say no.

What better does a child know? 

All I could understand was that if I didn't submit to what he did to me, 

I was a terrible person.

Chains.

I looked up to him, respected him. 

In my innocent mind, he was my father figure, and I let myself be burdened with chains so that he would be proud of me. 

I was a little girl who just wanted love.

Instead I was given chains, and though he left, the chains remained.

Binding me to those I want to please, or respect, to those I admire or look up to.

Cursed am I to enslavement, an addiction to feeling unworthy, submitted.

But as the years fade to memory, I'm slowly learning.

My True Father teaches me in moments such as these, when the world is of less importance and the air is clear and the fog of my mind lifts in the cool, crisp breeze.

I'm learning it's okay to not be respected. 

It's okay to not be perfect.

As much as I insist on every detail being exactly right,

I'm beginning to embrace a messy life.

Chains.

A link at a time they break away, fall to the ground, leave me alone.

I thought great strength would be required, but with chains of perfectionism,

Just the opposite is desired.

The more I breathe and rest in Him, the weaker the enslavement of my chains becomes.

Sitting on mountaintops is my greatest asset in my battle against constantly being perfect.

As the weight of my enslavement is no longer so daunting,

I'm learning to stand for what's right, even when it isn't popular, when the world turns it's back on me.

I'm learning to never back down for the sake of other people's happiness.

It's a hard journey, and sometimes I don't think I'm strong enough.

But those are the moments when my Father carries me, and in those moments I don't need my weapon to be strength- just His Love.

I have to go down the mountain now, back into the smog of insanity.

But I know what it is to breathe clean air, 

And I will walk into that wilderness of pain, 

Leaning on my Beloved because I can't do it alone again.

What Beauty Must Have Looked Like

I can only imagine what it must have been

To see His eyes when she poured out her dowry 

At his feet

To see the tears start to form as He calls out to His people who are so broken, 

beckoning them to be wrapped 

In His arms, embraced so wholly.

Oh, what I would give to see that look of total love, so beautiful and free,

Not condemned by law, 

Nor chained by brokenness.

To see those eyes of gentleness gaze upon a daughter so disgraced, 

Lying naked before Him

In the condemnation and shame of her actions.

My ears itch to hear those words He spoke, asking,

"Where are your accusers?"

To see the manifestation of Grace Sufficient 

What would if be like, to see Him walk up to me, impossibly,

After all I've done to push Him away

And gaze with the grace of oceans-

The repetition. The echo.

Again, again;

"Do you Love Me?"

My heart-cry bursts forth in anxious response, 

Yes, of course!

He who is wisest knows my heart, my flaws, my betrayal.

But all that He requires is that response that shouts,

"I love you!"

Love- the singular thing that can conquer all betrayal, every infection, lie.

He whispers as we pool in our self-condemnation,

The only words that could possibly be sufficient medicine for our terminal illness;

"Let Me love you."