Down. We keep looking down. Why do we think that we can find answers here? If we continue to look around, we will forever see evil deeds. We will be destined to watch misery all the days of our lives. If we look to ourselves, there will be pain and fighting. Destruction and death. Are we ready for the righteous to outnumber the wicked?
Day after day we look but we don't really see. We hear but we forget to listen. Open our eyes Lord. Our eyes are looking up. Our eyes are on you Lord. Watching. Waiting. We are turning our gazes upwards to the Heavens in anticipation.
How long must we wait to for you? Open our eyes to see you in the land of the living. for the Lord our God is living among us. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in us with gladness. With His love, He will calm all our fears. He will rejoice over us with joyful songs. Lord! Open our eyes because we are tired of sleeping in and missing your glory. We are tired of missing our mission from you. We are so tired of sleeping in.
Give us your eyes. Show us your vision. Let us see the broken. Let us see your pain. But also let us see your miracles. Let us see your love and compassion. Let us look and be amazed! For you are doing something in our own day, something we won't believe even if someone told us about it. Lord, you can't stand in the sight of evil. Let us stand for you. Let us not be afraid to stand and be seen. Our eyes, oh Lord, yes. We lift our eyes to you and to you alone. We fix our sight on you. Lead us where you may. We will follow. Across the sea. To foreign lands. We will follow you. To pain. To our deaths. We will follow.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Release.
Oh the warmth of your love. Surrounding. Overwhelming my fears and even the deepest of my pain.
The pain is all my own doing. And God gently allows the pain to hit me. He promises me that I'll grow from it. He promises that it's for good, not disaster. But it's still painful. And it's a deep pain that I stubbornly keep grasping tightly with weak white knuckles. My hands keep holding tight while my heart screams, "Let it go. Let. It. Go." But it seems my stubborn grasp grows tighter. So tight that I know that letting go will cause pain as lift flows back to my white knuckles. My white, fragile, lifeless hands.
I know what I need to do. And, oh, the joy to follow. But I've spent so long holding on that it seems almost impossible to release what I clutch so dearly. Good thing you are in the business of doing seemingly impossible things. You whisper lightly in my ear, "My love is enough. My strength is enough. My blood is enough." You words weigh the air and sink down into the depths of my heart. I slowly start to feel the heavy, relentless pressure releasing. But my grasp is still holding strong.
But you, you never back down. Boldly you continue to speak your words of love to me. You passionately say, "I love you. More than you can ever know. Stop fighting The One who lost his very life for you." Slowly, one finger makes the brave move. it slowly releases and gracefully floats away from it's prized possession. You push on. Confidently you say, "Just trust me. You've done it with everything else... Why not this? This one little thing." Two. Another finger liberates it's captive. The pain of letting go is beginning to arise. The hardest part is about to hit. But you are still there. Patiently waiting. Like you always seem to do with me. This time you you're serious. You say, "It's going to be worth all the pain. Give it to me. I'll give you back something greater. I promise." The pain of walking away from past dreams is welling up now. My flesh wants this to happen the way I dreamed it to always be. My flesh is fighting harder for this than I ever though it would. This is my last dream I've tried to keep hidden away from you for so long. I had the foolish hope that you would forget about it. The foolish hope that maybe for once I knew better than The One who knows all. My flesh craves it's own way. But you know better. You always do. With a quick bolt of pain, I let it go. I allow your love to break me. Now you are calling me to draw near to you. You are my strength. You are my peace. You are my hope.
Gradually, I feel the warm flow of new blood begin to move in and out of the corners of my heart. It finds the places I thought were closed for eternity. As my heart begins to beat, life is renewed with every slow and painful pulse. With a heart full of reborn dreams, I take a step. And slow but steady step. And then a breath. A deep, filling breath of new air. Crisp air. I begin to step with boldness only explained by the power and love of Christ. Maybe it will happen. Maybe it won't. Maybe I'm not supposed to know. Maybe God has already given me a family of my own. Or maybe I'm just supposed to keep running this race God has set before me. And I will keep running it with borrowed strength from The One I choose to chase. The last desire I clung so tightly to, Lord, it's yours.
The pain is all my own doing. And God gently allows the pain to hit me. He promises me that I'll grow from it. He promises that it's for good, not disaster. But it's still painful. And it's a deep pain that I stubbornly keep grasping tightly with weak white knuckles. My hands keep holding tight while my heart screams, "Let it go. Let. It. Go." But it seems my stubborn grasp grows tighter. So tight that I know that letting go will cause pain as lift flows back to my white knuckles. My white, fragile, lifeless hands.
I know what I need to do. And, oh, the joy to follow. But I've spent so long holding on that it seems almost impossible to release what I clutch so dearly. Good thing you are in the business of doing seemingly impossible things. You whisper lightly in my ear, "My love is enough. My strength is enough. My blood is enough." You words weigh the air and sink down into the depths of my heart. I slowly start to feel the heavy, relentless pressure releasing. But my grasp is still holding strong.
But you, you never back down. Boldly you continue to speak your words of love to me. You passionately say, "I love you. More than you can ever know. Stop fighting The One who lost his very life for you." Slowly, one finger makes the brave move. it slowly releases and gracefully floats away from it's prized possession. You push on. Confidently you say, "Just trust me. You've done it with everything else... Why not this? This one little thing." Two. Another finger liberates it's captive. The pain of letting go is beginning to arise. The hardest part is about to hit. But you are still there. Patiently waiting. Like you always seem to do with me. This time you you're serious. You say, "It's going to be worth all the pain. Give it to me. I'll give you back something greater. I promise." The pain of walking away from past dreams is welling up now. My flesh wants this to happen the way I dreamed it to always be. My flesh is fighting harder for this than I ever though it would. This is my last dream I've tried to keep hidden away from you for so long. I had the foolish hope that you would forget about it. The foolish hope that maybe for once I knew better than The One who knows all. My flesh craves it's own way. But you know better. You always do. With a quick bolt of pain, I let it go. I allow your love to break me. Now you are calling me to draw near to you. You are my strength. You are my peace. You are my hope.
Gradually, I feel the warm flow of new blood begin to move in and out of the corners of my heart. It finds the places I thought were closed for eternity. As my heart begins to beat, life is renewed with every slow and painful pulse. With a heart full of reborn dreams, I take a step. And slow but steady step. And then a breath. A deep, filling breath of new air. Crisp air. I begin to step with boldness only explained by the power and love of Christ. Maybe it will happen. Maybe it won't. Maybe I'm not supposed to know. Maybe God has already given me a family of my own. Or maybe I'm just supposed to keep running this race God has set before me. And I will keep running it with borrowed strength from The One I choose to chase. The last desire I clung so tightly to, Lord, it's yours.
My Love
My Heavenly Father is the best friend anyone could ask for. It’s hard to describe him in words worth speaking. But I’ll try.
He is always with me. We do everything together. One morning we got up early right before daylight broke the darkness of the cold night. We watched the sky as it melted from the deepest of blacks to a brilliant orange brighter than a raging fire. Slowly the sun peaked over the skyline, showing it’s magnificent colors and power. We could feel it’s warm embrace surrounding us like a gentle hug from friend that held on long enough to feel their heart beating against mine. Time stood still for a few minutes. We didn’t rush. We didn’t speak. We just stood. We waited there a while just pretending that we had all day to stand and watch. Unfortunately, reality quickly came and shook us out of our daydream with a violent jerk.
There are many days like this with him. Days that seem too perfect to even be written in a fairytale. He brings me joy. He brings me a life so full of meaning it’s beyond words. Imagine Thanksgiving dinner. You are surrounded by a number of loved ones. You can feel the love hanging in the air as conversations dance around the room. Then you all sit down to a feast of home cooked food. You can smell the sweet brown sugar that is lightly glazed over the turkey. You start to eat. And you keep eating. Then out comes desert. The sweet pumpkin pie that melts in your mouth. You eat more. And you keep eating. You are so full that you are even in pain. That is the kind of life he gives. A life that is filled with purpose. He has so much planned for me that sometimes it feels like too much. And sometimes it hurts. But not because he has left me to defend myself against the Devil. And not because my purpose is gone. It hurts because all I want is to be with him, seeing him face to face. I hurt from waiting. But luckily, he is the type of friend who doesn’t leave when the pain comes. He doesn’t back down on his promise to never leave me. He stays even on those really tough days when nothing goes right and everyone seems to turn and run. You know, those dark, dreary afternoons when even the sun decides it should hide from me. He shows up with a radiant smile that’s brighter than the sun and whispers, “I still care. Give me your burdens. I’ll make them light.”, gently in my ear. Sometimes I feel like I can’t really hear him. Like he really isn’t there. Just like the cool breezes on a warm summer nights that just tousles my hair and then vanish without a trace. But in my doubt, he isn’t afraid to be bold. Not with a prideful boldness that makes me feel like less of a person. But a boldness that makes me feel like I can be bold too. He builds me up. And never tries to tear me down afterwards.
He is never afraid to show his love for me. His unconditional, undying love for me, his daughter, that even my sins can’t take away. This love is not like a high school crush. It’s not the kind of love that comes in and leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. It’s the kind of love that lasts. A deep, endless love that sinks into your soul and doesn’t ever leave. It satisfies you like cold glass of ice water bursting into your mouth on a sizzling summer day. Or like the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies coming out the oven. It satisfies. Yet you are always left wanting more.
Many might not know this, but God is also a romantic. He likes to send me surprise rain showers that make me feel like a child again. He orchestrates symphonies of birds chirping and leaves brushing specially for me alone to hear. And he always brings flowers. He lets small, feathery snowflakes graze my cheek with a smooth and graceful kiss. He loves to curl up in a blanket as I read his love notes he wrote in the Bible for me to find. There are enough to last me a lifetime.
God is also a doctor. He has never seen a heart he can’t mend. Just like on that one warm and clear evening this past summer. I was sitting on a cold, lonely bench just praying. And crying. They were the kind of tears that felt like they were burning little rivers down my cheeks. With every tear, my heart sank further into the pit of my stomach. I needed to clear my head, which was racing in all directions, at frightening speeds. My parents hadn’t talked to me in months because I was too fanatical about God. Rent was due and I had almost nothing left even though I worked two jobs. My friends were nowhere to be found. But he was still there. He didn’t leave. He raised my eyes to the Heavens. The moon was shining brighter than I’ve ever seen and the stars seemed to dance across the sky in a passionate dance. I could smell that crisp smell of night. Out of nowhere, someone began to sing the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. It was in Italian and was full of so much romance. I never saw who was singing but I knew that the song was for me. But then the wind blew a sweet, enticing breeze that seemed to entwine me. The Creator of the Universe saw me in my broken moment. He see’s me in all my broken moments. And he shows up. He cries tears of sorrow with me. You know, those days where your heart has been stepped on. By stilettos. Multiple times. And those days where the first step out of bed feels like competing in an Iron Man competition, which you haven’t trained for. On those days, he shows up with all his strength and tenderly carries me through the day. He has the power to end the world at any given moment. And he carries me as a mother would her newborn child. He mercifully picks up the pieces of my smashed heart and sews it back together with his own hands. He places each piece it is place and sews with compassion. The crazy part is, he doesn’t ask for anything in return except for my sutured heart. And that sounds easy enough. Except for the times I’m running away from him because of the mess I’ve gotten myself into. Some days I get the dangerous idea that I can make decisions on my own. And things usually end up in complete disarray. I run because I so quickly forget the amazing grace he has. I run to escape because I’m too much of a coward to face God. And usually in the middle of me running he places his hand on my shoulder, letting it gently weigh me down. All he says in a calm, warm voice that stirs the air around me is, “where are you going? I’m still right here. I can fix all that you did. Just give me your heart.” Time and time again he does this. He never gives up. His persistence is breathtaking. And he frequently does take my breath away.
Throughout my life, I have tried to find all these characteristics in an earthly person. But I’ve realized that sinful people cannot fit in the place of a holy and perfect God. He is my Father. My Brother. My Friend. My Guardian. My Love
He is always with me. We do everything together. One morning we got up early right before daylight broke the darkness of the cold night. We watched the sky as it melted from the deepest of blacks to a brilliant orange brighter than a raging fire. Slowly the sun peaked over the skyline, showing it’s magnificent colors and power. We could feel it’s warm embrace surrounding us like a gentle hug from friend that held on long enough to feel their heart beating against mine. Time stood still for a few minutes. We didn’t rush. We didn’t speak. We just stood. We waited there a while just pretending that we had all day to stand and watch. Unfortunately, reality quickly came and shook us out of our daydream with a violent jerk.
There are many days like this with him. Days that seem too perfect to even be written in a fairytale. He brings me joy. He brings me a life so full of meaning it’s beyond words. Imagine Thanksgiving dinner. You are surrounded by a number of loved ones. You can feel the love hanging in the air as conversations dance around the room. Then you all sit down to a feast of home cooked food. You can smell the sweet brown sugar that is lightly glazed over the turkey. You start to eat. And you keep eating. Then out comes desert. The sweet pumpkin pie that melts in your mouth. You eat more. And you keep eating. You are so full that you are even in pain. That is the kind of life he gives. A life that is filled with purpose. He has so much planned for me that sometimes it feels like too much. And sometimes it hurts. But not because he has left me to defend myself against the Devil. And not because my purpose is gone. It hurts because all I want is to be with him, seeing him face to face. I hurt from waiting. But luckily, he is the type of friend who doesn’t leave when the pain comes. He doesn’t back down on his promise to never leave me. He stays even on those really tough days when nothing goes right and everyone seems to turn and run. You know, those dark, dreary afternoons when even the sun decides it should hide from me. He shows up with a radiant smile that’s brighter than the sun and whispers, “I still care. Give me your burdens. I’ll make them light.”, gently in my ear. Sometimes I feel like I can’t really hear him. Like he really isn’t there. Just like the cool breezes on a warm summer nights that just tousles my hair and then vanish without a trace. But in my doubt, he isn’t afraid to be bold. Not with a prideful boldness that makes me feel like less of a person. But a boldness that makes me feel like I can be bold too. He builds me up. And never tries to tear me down afterwards.
He is never afraid to show his love for me. His unconditional, undying love for me, his daughter, that even my sins can’t take away. This love is not like a high school crush. It’s not the kind of love that comes in and leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. It’s the kind of love that lasts. A deep, endless love that sinks into your soul and doesn’t ever leave. It satisfies you like cold glass of ice water bursting into your mouth on a sizzling summer day. Or like the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies coming out the oven. It satisfies. Yet you are always left wanting more.
Many might not know this, but God is also a romantic. He likes to send me surprise rain showers that make me feel like a child again. He orchestrates symphonies of birds chirping and leaves brushing specially for me alone to hear. And he always brings flowers. He lets small, feathery snowflakes graze my cheek with a smooth and graceful kiss. He loves to curl up in a blanket as I read his love notes he wrote in the Bible for me to find. There are enough to last me a lifetime.
God is also a doctor. He has never seen a heart he can’t mend. Just like on that one warm and clear evening this past summer. I was sitting on a cold, lonely bench just praying. And crying. They were the kind of tears that felt like they were burning little rivers down my cheeks. With every tear, my heart sank further into the pit of my stomach. I needed to clear my head, which was racing in all directions, at frightening speeds. My parents hadn’t talked to me in months because I was too fanatical about God. Rent was due and I had almost nothing left even though I worked two jobs. My friends were nowhere to be found. But he was still there. He didn’t leave. He raised my eyes to the Heavens. The moon was shining brighter than I’ve ever seen and the stars seemed to dance across the sky in a passionate dance. I could smell that crisp smell of night. Out of nowhere, someone began to sing the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. It was in Italian and was full of so much romance. I never saw who was singing but I knew that the song was for me. But then the wind blew a sweet, enticing breeze that seemed to entwine me. The Creator of the Universe saw me in my broken moment. He see’s me in all my broken moments. And he shows up. He cries tears of sorrow with me. You know, those days where your heart has been stepped on. By stilettos. Multiple times. And those days where the first step out of bed feels like competing in an Iron Man competition, which you haven’t trained for. On those days, he shows up with all his strength and tenderly carries me through the day. He has the power to end the world at any given moment. And he carries me as a mother would her newborn child. He mercifully picks up the pieces of my smashed heart and sews it back together with his own hands. He places each piece it is place and sews with compassion. The crazy part is, he doesn’t ask for anything in return except for my sutured heart. And that sounds easy enough. Except for the times I’m running away from him because of the mess I’ve gotten myself into. Some days I get the dangerous idea that I can make decisions on my own. And things usually end up in complete disarray. I run because I so quickly forget the amazing grace he has. I run to escape because I’m too much of a coward to face God. And usually in the middle of me running he places his hand on my shoulder, letting it gently weigh me down. All he says in a calm, warm voice that stirs the air around me is, “where are you going? I’m still right here. I can fix all that you did. Just give me your heart.” Time and time again he does this. He never gives up. His persistence is breathtaking. And he frequently does take my breath away.
Throughout my life, I have tried to find all these characteristics in an earthly person. But I’ve realized that sinful people cannot fit in the place of a holy and perfect God. He is my Father. My Brother. My Friend. My Guardian. My Love
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