In Your Heart

Late Sunday afternoon, my roommate and I decided to go to the local Baptist church’s block party. We ran into neighbors and friends there, ate and chit chatted with people.

A few little girls we know decided that they wanted to go on the inflatable moon bounce things, whatever they’re called. So, my roommate having left to go be responsible, I stayed in line with these girls, waiting for their turn.

While we were waiting in line to take off shoes and bounce, I heard some boys in front of us yelling.

“Disgrace in your heart! Disgrace in your heart!”

They yelled this as they punched each other repeatedly in the chest. Waiting for parental units to intervene, I thought, “Where did they hear such a thing?”

The little girls I was with were oblivious to the boys. But my head was spinning and my heart felt sad.

What are little boys yelling about disgrace for?

Disgrace.

Shame.

We all carry it.

And, yeah, it’s in our hearts.

And we get slammed in the chest with it.

“DISGRACE IN YOUR HEART!”

But I’m a child of the King. Do I yet live in all my disgrace, shame, dishonor and the resulting condemnation?

So often my enemy comes with ready fist to give me another humiliating punch. And I feel wave after wave of ensuing disappointment, sadness and disgrace.

But, “…whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything. Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God.” (I John 3:20-21, emphasis mine)

Grace, grace, GRACE IN YOUR HEART!!!

This is the refrain of the King. This is what he sings over us, when the enemy comes to give us another bloody blow.

Every time I’m knocked back into my corner, I hear the song, “Grace, grace, grace in your heart, pouring from my hands and feet and side, pouring over you, grace, grace, grace in your heart.”

These boys are participating in the lie that we so oft believe. I do it, too. Let myself be bruised again, or kick a brother or sister and say, “Shame on you,” instead of correcting in love.

When will these boys and I learn the new song, “Grace, grace, grace in your heart”?

Freedom

To wake up and not crave a drink

To be outside the iron bars

Freedom to the addict

Freedom to the prisoner

Ask anyone what it means to be free

And he’ll tell you from his perspective

Blind would see

Lame would walk

Mute would talk

I would sing

Without shame

Leftover Light

Look at the sky
It’s not stars
Just the light they left behind centuries ago
Only one that isn’t leftover
Unfaded
The original light
The Eternal

Fireworks?...

Leaves

See the wind

As it dances

With the trees

The leaves

Gently sway

As the branches bend

The wind shakes

Leading the trees

With its song

We are blessed

To watch the dance as

The leaves remind us

Of God

Why do they remind us?

Because He made them

Genesis 2:7

Dust—

It covers

Like a soft white sheet

That smothers and chokes,

But it dances

In the air

Floating

Light catches

And here in the eye

It becomes

Beauty.

This is love on us

Just Keep Swimming...

The sky is overcast and the scent of coming rain is in the air. The lake smells like an old friend. When I was a kid and we'd vacation at the beaches in Delaware we stayed at a trailer park that sat on a lake or a bay, I don't remember which anymore. But there is a distinct smell I attach with that place and I smell it down here at this lake.
Yesterday I saw a snake swimming here. It was beautiful. I love how creation keeps moving in spite of chaos, war and injustice. All creation groans, but it doesn't stop. It moves forward with expectancy. I tend to be bogged down, sinking in my groaning. I get stuck in it.
And then I see this snake slithering through the grass and splashing into the water and swimming away and I'm captivated by his movement, the detail of his skin, his elegance under the water.
I think that's how we're supposed to be. Longing for the fullness of the kingdom and swimming...dancing in the knowledge that His kingdom is here and that His kingdom is coming.
Even the ducks are gliding along to His glory. May we, to, worship as our hearts cry out, "Marantha! Come, Lord Jesus!"

O God,
Whenever I listen to the voice of anything You have made--
The rustling of the trees
The trickling of water
The cries of birds
The flickering of shadow
The roar of the wind
The song of the thunder
I hear it saying:
God is One!
Nothing can be compared with God!
~Rabi'a


Say among the nations, "The LORD reigns!
Yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved;
he will judge the peoples with equity."

Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice;
let the sea roar, and all that fills it;
let the field exult, and everything in it!
Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy
before the LORD, for he comes,
for he comes to judge the earth.
He will judge the world in righteousness,
and the peoples in his faithfulness.

~Psalm 96:10-13

(Tired) Thoughts on Justice...

Today I got really upset.
Wanting justice.
Wanting to see the Lord move in all his righteousness.
I guess sometimes I forget that his justice is more than my
black and white, childlike fairness (if brother gets 2, I get 2).
God's righteousness is holy.

She sits smiling with
Secrets in her eyeball
No one's watching
But she sees light
No one's listening
But she hears love
No one's noticing
But there are angels in the TV

Thank you

The reality of the cross is brutal, but it is freeing. I have grieved far too long that Jesus had to die without gratefully accepting that he did—and that it is truly enough. Enough to really cover all my sin, to redeem me, to free me. It’s like all the truth I’ve heard and known for so long is suddenly not just sinking in, but taking root and sprouting up and it’s wonderful. I’m stunned at the gift of love and forgiveness. I’m at the foot of the cross in awe that Jesus has given all and I just need to reach out and take it—with humility and hope and joy. It makes death and eternity a whole lot less scary—well, actually it makes me long for heaven more…it makes me more eager to see my Savior’s face—to throw my arms around his neck and sob out, “Thank you,” to shout with all the angels and sing with all the people and know the King without all the barriers of flesh and sin, to love and be loved more completely.

Oh, God, don’t let me leave here the same. Continue stripping down my sin, my strongholds, all the walls and defenses. Continue letting your grace and mercy have their effect in my heart and my mind. Continue helping me to renew my heart and mind. Continue helping me accept the gift—you and all you are and all you’ve done and still do. And thank you—thank you, thank you, thank you.

Stretching

Today I learned that a guitar is best in tune

If its strings are stretched in the process of putting them on.

“Is there a connection between stretching and being in tune?”

“Yes.”

But is there? Do you we long for connections unnecessarily?

Sometimes I feel like my heart is being wrenched from my chest.

Stretching.

Growing pains. When you are little and then all of a sudden you’re growing so tall and your bones and your skin are fighting to make room for all of you and it hurts.

Stretching.

The musician pulling the new strings on his guitar.

Stretching.

The heart needs more brokenness so it is made bigger to love.

The bones need to fuse and grow and pull in the body to make us taller.

The strings need to be pulled and played for lasting quality sound.

Stretching.

I see God stretching us to play us in tune for eternity.

I don’t want to get to heaven and lose my tune.

I want to be part of his harmonies forever. Lasting beautiful sounds. Like pieces of color on glass. From the sunlight. Stretching.

Light stretching from heaven to earth for the people.

LIGHT stretching on skin to bring the world to GOD. To bring the world back in tune.

“Is there a connection between stretching and being in tune?”

Oh, yes.

Bismillah…

Senses

...Sorrows are the rags of old clothes
and jackets that serve to cover,
and then are taken off.
That undressing,
and the beautiful
naked body underneath
is the sweetness
that comes
after grief.

--Jalal al-Din

Discontent—
a mostly permanent state as long as my heart
is encased by bones and covered by skin.

That you would come and open me wide
that it would beat freely outside its cage,
this bodily prison.

There is too much—
too much and yet never enough
and so I am chained, bound,
by everything and nothing.

Blind me that I might see
Cause me to be deaf that I might better hear.
Deaden my senses
that all left is You—

only You both consume my taste, touch, sight, smell and sounds
and yet expand beyond these.
Limitless—
let me know Your infinity and eternity.

Carving

“It’s like carving. Just cut away what you don’t need.”

The 6 string guitar has 2 strings missing. It’s been retuned and is a mandolin guitar and the ten year old boy who’s playing with it is determined to play it his way.

He presses his finger on one string but strums the others, so that you can’t hear the difference of that one string. They tell him not to play like that. He doesn’t listen. His dad compares the music to carving.

Immediately, I see an old man sitting on his front porch in the summer, with a knife in one hand and his carving in the other. He is sure. He is comfortable. He’s been doing this for years. He feels the grain of the wood and when he cuts it, he is gentle, but firm. And when he is done, he knows the feeling of exactness. Of knowing that he cut out only what was not needed. What is left he knows is the beauty.

The musician is the same way, I guess. He cuts out the extra stuff he doesn’t need. A real artist knows what elements are absolutely necessary. And he knows what can go. He knows the rules so well that he can break them.

And we are left with is the heart. The beauty. The song. The carving.

I wonder if I’m like this boy with the mandolin guitar.

God is the old man on the front porch with the knife. He’s the musician who knows where to press his finger and where to strum, to get just the right sounds. But it’s no fun. I’m the guitar that doesn’t have enough strings. I’m the wood that’s getting sliced up. I know the rules, but I’m not sure I like having them bended. I don’t understand that.

I tell him to refine me, to make me more like him. But it means a lot of who I think I am, gets carved out. Gets left unplayed.

I’m so determined to hold onto the unnecessary parts.

Slowly, I think, I hope, I’m learning to not yell at God about the rules I’ve created in my own mind. I know that he’s sure. He is comfortable. He’s been doing this for years. He feels the grain of my soul and he is gentle, but firm. And when he is done, I’ll know exactness. Of knowing that he cut out only what was not needed. We’ll see beauty.

He’s cutting out the extra stuff I don’t need. He’s the artist and I’m the element. He knows what can go and knows the rules so well that he can break them.

And I’ll be left with a heart. Beauty. I’ll have a new song. I’m a new creation.

“Lord, cut out the parts of me that aren’t necessary. Just cut away what I don’t need.”

Saturday Thoughts

Piercing is
My healing
Wounds touch wounds
Hand to heart
Side to soul
Blood and bone
Life and breath.

Messy

...freedom is messy. I always thought that bondage was messy and freedom was neat, but I think it’s really the opposite. Bondage keeps you tight. Shackles, chains, bars, ropes, all these things are restrictive. They put tight, defined lines around you. There’s a clear boundary. Freedom, on the other hand, has no restrictions. Once all that stuff is broken off, all your mess goes flying. And over time, it gets cleaned up, but it’s not a nice, neat little life. It’s messy. It’s crazy. It changes you. And a world without boundaries is big and messy. A world with boundaries hurts, but the restrictions keep you in line. Keep you ‘safe.’ Freedom means you give up that safety. You put yourself out there to maybe get trampled on. You start flying and then something happens and you land. In bondage you can’t see light often. You see shadows made by light and you want it, but you aren’t sure. In freedom, there’s darkness that tries to follow you, but you can choose to keep lights on. In bondage, you’re so chained up that you can’t really move. In freedom, you move so much that sometimes you fall. In bondage, you don’t know about mountain top experiences with God, because all you know is your cage. In freedom, you climb mountains, but you are well acquainted with valleys and plains and all kinds of topography and terrain. Freedom is just that. You’re free to cry, laugh, dance, sing, walk, run, fly, fall flat on your face and get up again, to struggle, to forgive, to yell and to praise. Freedom is glorious, but it’s messy. You’re never the same again. You suffer and you delight. You pound your fists and you soar with wings like an eagle. It’s a crazy, crazy life and, yes, it’s uncomfortable at times. A lot of times. It’s not a promise of security. You want security, you stay in your shackles. They’re about as secure as you can get, believe me, you try to take those off yourself, they’ll get tighter, and you won’t be going anywhere. That’s pretty damn secure. Freedom isn’t safety. It’s messy. It’s big and wild and something that can’t even be put down in words. Sometimes you’ll feel like everything in freedom is a big muddled ball of chaos. That’s okay. Because the Light is all around you. And he knows. He put you in freedom to begin with. So he’s going to be there in the mess. The Light is in the mess, in the freedom. Be free.