Tuesday, January 20, 2015

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.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

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."