I burned that bridge

And so my God, I bring to you--my Isaac.

It's hard to let go of things we don't need. I even have trouble cleaning out my closet. I find myself thinking I'll eventually come back for those clothes, or that one day I really will get around to fixing them. However, I know I never will. They'll sit in the back of my closet, or bottom of my drawers--taking of valuable space. I could theoretically make room for new things, or things I originally planned to put away. Im a clutter bug. I admit it, my room is cluttered, my heart is cluttered.

A simple evaluation of myself will quickly bring to light all the junk I've held on to. Thing's I intended to fix but never did, things I haven't picked up in years, people I put in the back of the "closet." I've neglected my heart. Shame on me. I've held on to so much from the past three years. Now anyone to tries to get remotely close will appear to have the upper hand. They'll quickly be removed or pushed aside to no fault of their own. Of course I have to be a drama queen about everything and refuse to let the walls fall. So, I have formally decided and even announced to myself that I am letting "Isaac" go. 

I feel as though I have trekked up Everest. My legs are sore, knees bruised, and hands cut up from the climb. I'd love to sit here and tell you that I have the greatest revelation on life and its matters, frivolous and serious. I'd love to tell you that the past year has been all peaches and cream. And while 2010 was much better than previous years, I cant help but think to myself that it could have been so much better had I let go of EVERYTHING.

So I'm here on this mountain, feeling like I've faced this giant a million times before--but I'm finally building an altar. Right here where my pain is--Im building it high so the devil can see it from hell. I'm giving up my Isaac--Im giving up my heart. 

Proof in the putting

It IS Him.

Only one thing has been repeating itself over and over in my head. It’s been my strength and my song in the toughest times, it’s been my cry and brought peace beyond my understanding. It is the simplest fact, but holds unseen amounts of power. Its truth holds steady affirmations and has proven valid and righteous time and again. It has given me hope and courage to move forward in my walk and in my ministry. Because of this—I have been set free, I have been delivered, rescued, healed, loved, embraced, strengthened, and encouraged.  If there is one thing you take with you on your journey remember this—Only God is God. 

It takes a huge load off to know that we ourselves have nothing to offer, nothing to give, nothing to say, except that God is God. Once this has become embedded in you it seems almost impossible to be taken hold of. It becomes harder to lose yourself in worldy delights, it becomes harder to slip into depression, it becomes harder to not rejoice in the mere fact that I was able to open my eyes this morning. Take comfort in this, find peace and rest in the promise of God to never leave you. Above all, let His praises never leave your lips. Bless him with your song, with your words, with your service. You have seen the power of God, you’ve felt His wind. You’ve written His heart. I encourage you to now write His legacy. Carry Him with you, and leave small traces of Him everywhere you go. Continue in worship and praise because of the simple fact that HE IS GOD. You may encounter disaster, you may be put to the ultimate test—but please, I beg of you….from one worshiper to another…don’t lose your zeal for his praises. Don’t stop adoring Him for what He’s done and will do…and remember Only God is God. Now go--change the world.

Ode to a Patient God

"And don't you go insane? All six thousand years of us treating you this way. All this time. Does it make you tired? I can't believe you waited for me...like it was worth your while."

My Darling, My Christ. Patient beyond expressible words. And yet He waits for me. I don't know about you but I have a hard time wrapping my head around this uninhibited, unconditional love that He gives. He sits and watches as we get into our cars and hurry to our respective destinations. He gazes as we sip our coffee and read our emails. Oh the longing, oh the suffering He's endured. And we go through our day as if He never did a thing for us. How many days have I woken up and forgotten to say thank you. How many hours go by before I even notice Him peering over my shoulder, wondering how much longer I'll busy myself with nonsense. Here we are claiming to have more than religion. Claiming that our lives are ruled by a relationship and not routine. But here we are forgetting our significant other. Our Saviour. Our King. And there He sits--ever so patient. Ever so loving and merciful. His longing is immeasurable. We go a day without seeing or talking to our boyfriends and girlfriends and we feel like we lack fulfillment for that day. But we go days/weeks/months/years with no remorse...no regret. Because He'll still be there.

I'd hate to think of the amount of times I have crucified and recrucified Him. I cant bare the thought of being a part of the murder of my Love. My heart. It is with deep anguish that I write this. Because I am the first to say that I am guilty. But next time.... Next time He calls I'm gonna sing for Him. Next time He calls Im going to apologize and cry. Next time Im going to dance for Him, play for Him, run a mile for Him. Next time Im going to give it all.

 My heart hurts. It burns and aches with anguish at how long I myself have played the harlot. At how long we have pushed Him aside. At how long He waits. I can just imagine having scheduled a date. He shows up on time, dressed in His best. Beautiful as ever. And here I come...20 minutes...40 minutes...years late. He calls and calls, wondering where I am or how much longer Im going to be. And I don't even have the sense to prepare myself. I come to Him in my junk and in my rags. Filthy and unshowered. And He will lovingly gaze into my eyes and still tell me that I am His treasure. Even with all my mess. And to this day, I can't believe He waited for me. 

Battlefield

This barren land....

Desolate and wasted. How I long for the day of revival.

It seems so far way, revival, seems almost intangible. I can't even see it in the distance. Maybe cause its not something we should be able to foretell? Who knows but God. He's the only forecaster of such relevant glory.

I'm grieved whenever I walk out onto the wasteland. My eyes catching glimpses of bones and dirt--bones and dirt. But here in my own little wastelandic podunk of a community I seem to have forgotten my travail. I've forgotten the sway and cry of my rain dance. I almost forgot that this land too is barren. I no longer cried out for the rainfall amidst a season of drought. I left the tears to someone else, but it seems....no one else is crying. No one else is weeping, the sackcloth still hangs and no one has taken claim. Will I be held accountable for my lack of fire? Why haven't I spread to make the ground fertile again? I so desperately wanted to be the tree that flourishes in the middle of the desert, but I had forgotten that I need to have roots before my branches can grow. The valley is filled with dry bones awaiting their word of life. And yet my mouth has been sealed, and I have forgotten to cry. If my tears are the only way this land will be watered, then let it be. If the sweat of my brow is the only way this land will be tilled, then let it be. If my feet are dry and cracked from walking a mile in the shoes of those in need, then let be. And if my knees are bruised and bleeding from too much kneeling and too much travail--LET IT BE. 

Revival--LET IT BE!!

Greatness=Grace

I cannot lie. I live my life in tremendous fear. 

I have this untamed fear of failure. No, not failure in the natural. It has no bearing on my eternity. I am afraid of failing God. 

Remember when you were younger, and you would try so hard to please your parents? You'd draw little pictures, or make up little songs, then you'd look at them to see if they're watching and are happy. It really is one of the greatest feelings in the world. Knowing that the people who matter most are pleased with your performance, or better yet--your effort.

 Its quite unsettling. Thoughts of messing up or not doing enough tend to be what floods my mind. Although its always racing, and other things do consume it...its the most prominent. I cant shake it. In the back of my head I have this terrible feeling that I don't do enough. Part of it stems from how I was raised, the other stems from how Im living. I was raised with the "theres always going to be someone better than you" mentality. Although I'm sure my parents meant to instill that in me to break pride, instead it brought lack of drive. I figured if theres always going to be someone better, why try to be the best? I saw no point in striving for greatness simply because I was never taught that I could be great. Sad. I know. Whats even more sad is that now I struggle with trying to be great but knowing always in the back of my head that I can never do enough. I can never be enough. I would hate to make it to the judgement seat of Christ and still have a very long list of things I had yet to accomplish. I can only pray and trust that when I see Him He'll be pleased. 

I'm so afraid of making a mistake, or stepping out of the will of God that I don't even try anymore. I don't make attempts. I don't wait. This fear has overcome me so much so that sometimes I'm afraid to even move or speak. But recently I got to thinking: I would much rather be held accountable for my failure due to effort, than be held accountable for my failure for lack thereof. The plan of God is so perfect and so spectacular, that we in our human abilities have no way of fulfilling it. But the mercy of God is unquenchable. It reaches far beyond what the eye can see. And He knows, I'll mess up. He knows I'll fail. And He knows I wont ever be able to bring everything to completion and perfection. But the beauty of it all lies in the simple fact that He never asked me to. He leaves room for failure. How do I know? Because His one and only son was sent to shed His innocent and unfailing blood so that my failings wont be held against me. So that your failings wont be held against you. 

My fear? Still there--I will fail God. Him on the other hand, He'll never fail. And that my friends is peace enough for me.

Stones under rushing water

Time is measured in seconds, minutes, hours--moments. 

It is fleeting. Not one mili-second can be brought back. When its gone it cannot be resuscitated. 

I came home for the Thanksgiving holiday. It's always a joy to walk into a house full of people who truly have prepared for and anticipated your arrival. I never get tired of seeing the expressions on my parents faces when I walk in the door.  The gleam in their eyes will never get old to me. The love is evident. While I'm here I'll try my best to make the most of every day with them. I'll try to make as much time for them and others as possible. It's not an obligation, its a choice. I decided today to take an hour and a half nap today, when I woke up later I immediately wished I hadn't. I lost time. I missed moments. Hours I could have spent shopping with my mother or minutes I could have spent sitting with my father--gone.

It is all too often we take advantage of time. We miss opportunities and postpone and wait too much. Much more than we should. And we never even notice it. "The years go by like stones under rushing water, we only know when its gone." The seconds we wish we could change are forever faded. You ever get the feeling you should have done something at that moment? All you thought in your head was "i have time." But what if you were supposed to minister to that person at the bus stop? What if that man in front of you in line at walgreens was going to die later on that day? What if someone around you needed your testimony, your faith--your God? Would you be willing to forsake your schedule for the salvation of a soul? Or are you too consumed by your routines and daily activities, taking part in menial jobs that wont take you anywhere...They guarantee no crown.

I urge you to heed the alarm. Dismiss the minute hand. Don't look at your rolex or your blackberry cause their time passes too. How do you measure time? Better yet, how does the person next to you measure time? Find out soon--They may very well be within inches of death.

The joy on our Fathers face when His children come home after having been gone so long. Think for a moment on how far you've wandered or how long you've run. Surely the angels celebrate when a lost sheep comes home. Its always a joy to see the beaming smiles of people who have waited for you. How much more anticipation would come from that of our bridegroom? The one who has waited for what seems like an eternity. Remember that nap you took today? The one you took when the Lord asked you to talk to him? Remember that tv show or computer program you chose to use instead of listening to your   Beloved? There, moments you'll never get back. Moments that you could have spent talking with your Father--GONE.

What Church?

I have never seen war.

 I've never stared into the eyes of murderers. Never had to sit through the screams of tortured flesh. I have never had to run or hide from anything. Never had a tremendous fear for my life or the well being of my family and friends. I've never had to walk amongst the rubble of dead bodies, or gaze upon children crouching behind abandoned vehicles. Now, Let me make it a bit more personal for you. YOU have never been ripped out of your bed in the middle of the night. Hostage has never been a label you claim. You've never been imprisoned for reasons beyond your control. You've never had your mother and father or sister and brother brutally murdered in front of you. Your brow has never dripped with the toil of till. And your hands have never broken in labor. 

I, you, WE--are blessed.

Out of our mouths flow complaints and mumbles. We grumble about bitterness and gossip and slander our brothers and sisters. Different churches, different cultures, different families...SAME land, SAME species, SAME God.

What church? What church has the right to claim fame? What church has the right to claim sovereignty? What church has the right to claim truth? I'll tell you. The church who's ministry is not money. The church who's heart is not for the saved. The church who's mouths are SHUT in the face of adversity. Jesus was not a back talker. He was not a gossiper, or a bigot. He was not a deacon or a treasurer. He wasn't a politician and He was not a soldier. He was a Saviour. How dare we as a "church" think we have any right to speak against such things. Have we mimicked the attributes of Christ? Does the world see us as refuge? Do they see us as compassionate and loving? No, they see our mess... They see our anger and resentment towards other people and other churches. They see our competition and our backbiting. They see our selective processing and our weapons. 

We have forgotten our battle. We have lost sight of our struggle. We spend all of our time figuring out theologies and trying to separate false doctrine from truth and we lose sight of the real fight. Jesus never came for the saved. He didn't come for the righteous. He came for the sinner. He came for the poor man, the drunkard, the addict, the prostitute, the liars, and thieves. He came for the Mary Magdalene's  and the Zaccheus'. For the Sauls and Judas'. He came for the woman at the well, the blind man on the side of the road, the lame at the beautiful. He came to bring life in abundance. So where do we come in...where do we draw the line? How many more people have to die until we rise up in truth? How long will the world go not knowing what the heart of Jesus really looks like?

We've never in our lives had to fight for anything. We look at our insignificant struggles and cry and moan and complain. We have never had to live with bombs blaring in the middle of the night. Never had our homes broken into to be forced from our beds. Never been bound and gagged or beaten and tortured.   We have never truly had to fight. 

Church, I beg of you. Consider your life. Consider your homes and your cars. Consider yourselves blessed. Then--consider yourselves obligated to do the work and will of the Father. Because we have no right to complain--we have never seen war.

Reversion

Let the rain fall where it may. You cannot change its course.

When I was younger my mom let me play in the rain. I had grown up thinking we were supposed to run away to get out of it. One day when on vacation in Puerto Rico she let me put on my bathing suit and go outside while it was raining. Im sure my eyes beamed at her when I heard I would be allowed to actually go out in the rain. I remember thinking "is she serious?"  So I quickly ran and put on my little suit before she changed her mind. We had just gotten back from shopping and she got me this brand new black one piece that had hot pinks, and yellows, and greens all over it. When I finally had my suit on I ran out onto the pavement of my great grandmothers house. I danced around with my eyes closed soaking in the moments before the rain would cease. I remember it like it was yesterday, its still fresh and vivid in my mind. I even remember looking over at my mother and grandmother and seeing their smiles and nods of approval. And now--I'd give anything to relive that moment. 

Up until recently I hadn't really thought about it. The rain. But forever and always in the back of my mind is that day and the little girl who's mother gave her permission to play in the rain. I always have this urge to run, put on my prettiest colors, and put on my newest clothes--just to run out into the downpour. I want to throw my arms up to catch each drop. I want to dance and sing as it acquaints itself with the ground. After all, this is what sustains the earth. 

Id dare to take it even further and say I have this insatiable desire to run into the glory rain of heaven. Can you imagine ever wanting to run away from drops of glory? Now, imagine running out into the Holy of Holies, barefoot, and dressed in your best. You begin to close your eyes and dance around soaking in the moments before the rain would cease. Eventually you remember where you are and look up into the face of your Father. He reassures you its alright with His smile and nod of approval. 

You'd slowly come to realize that now--you'd give anything to relive that moment.

I am.

"I will be weak, unable to speak--still I will call you by name..."

I sat in my room by myself for a majority of today. Sometimes I appreciate the solitude, other times I find myself in a state of melancholy. Theres too much time to think and dwell on things that don't even matter, at least not yet. Eventually I made my way over to my computer and turned on my itunes. I quickly started to scroll through my music trying to determine what I was in the mood for. I came across a song that I've always held as a sort of anthem to my relationship with the Father. 

The song is about different stages in life. In this case a young girl, and adolescent girl, a married woman, and a mother. The common theme? I am. They all knew the name they could call, each using different adjectives to describe exactly who God was to them. 

Elbow healer, super hero, 

heartache healer, secret keeper, 

shepherd, saviour, 

creator, comforter...

Hold my hand, come if you can,

be my best friend...

And to each resounding cry and plea He answered simply

"I am."

It occurs far too often. We lose our grip. We feel as if the rope has become a thread and could give at any moment, as if our weight is too heavy for Him to bear. Its so easy to forget that He once pierced the skin of His own Son so that we wouldn't have to bear those scars. Instead we inflict our own. We put a knife to our wrists and pray the blood wont stain. We take the medications to soothe our aches. Throw ourselves off of bridges to alleviate our struggles. We've become a generation of masochists, always beating ourselves up because we feel we are lacking. Little did you know that in every moment you tried to end it all He was there. Imagine the torment that would come with knowing your child had no desire to live.
 My solitude has cost me some sanity, I will admit. But my blessings out weigh all of my struggles. 

I have pleaded with Him to carry me, to take me and mold me. I have begged Him to heal me, cried for Him to save me. I have asked Him to be my redeemer and my restorer. I have screamed at the top of my lungs until there was no voice left, for Him to come to me. GOD!! Are you even listening??

And He says "I am."

Naked

I saw a leaf fall today. The wind didn't blow, the tree didn't move. It just fell. Coincidently I walked in its path and it landed on my chest. I quickly removed it and tossed it to the side. They're shedding their old leaves to prepare for spring--their next  blooming season.

Ever since I can remember I've been obsessed with the way trees look when they're bare. They've always had some strange spell over me. I remember staring as we drove through the city. Looking at every branch, every knot, every loose piece of bark. It all seemed so planned to me. To think, once upon a time they were covered in leaves. Lavished in greens and reds, yellows and oranges. At one point they were a significant source of shade, they provided a place to cool off when the sun was unbearable. But the one thing that fascinates me the most, is how even though they're bare and the frigid cold rests on them day in and day out...their branches never manage to make their way to the ground. Even in the harshest of winters--their branches are still outstretched towards the sky. As if to say-- God, You made me, You sustain me, therefore I praise You.

How quickly we forget that we were made, and are sustained. We think that our moments of extreme anxiety and pain give us an excuse to lower our hands. We think that just because our season has passed or because our winter has come, that our arms need not be outstretched. It is then when we are tested and tried. It's when our branches are exposed that our true form can be seen. Why is it that when we've lost everything the storm comes? You tell yourself "but God I've put so much time and effort, I've worked so hard.." Remember Job? He was a bare tree. Everything was stripped away from him. He had no family, no home, no food, not even his health. Even He understood the importance of maintaining his worship. He said "Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart." Job knew he came into this world with nothing, and he will leave with nothing. So why do we cease to worship when our leaves have been shed, when we are bare? That is the perfect time. That is when we can stretch out our arms uninhibited and say--God, You made me, You sustain me, therefore I WILL praise You.

Life through the Red Letters

There is an unseen beauty in this world that science, logic, and religion, seek to describe. Each will give a different explanation as to why and how we exist, a concoction of philosophies that are built on pure intuition. Because they know how an embryo is formed there must be no mystery. Or because we have the capacity to think on our own, there cannot be anything greater than our human mind. It is assumptions like these that have driven scholars, scientists, philosophers, and religious leaders alike to search for truth. With each of them defining the issues of life through his or her worldview, the diversity in our world and cultures has allowed each person to have their own span of views and beliefs. However, I have chosen to live my life through the red letters.

It wasn’t until the late 1800’s that this fashioned printing came about. The red letters I speak of are the once spoken, and highly reverenced words of our Lord Jesus Christ. In many Bibles, the words of Christ are printed in red. Bringing an emphasis not only to His rhetoric, but His urgent and loving message.

Throughout a Christian’s life there are moments a shadow of doubt may cloud the mind. For some, clarity is only but a prayer away. For others, life spins out of control until they no longer hold these crimson truths to be relevant. I wont deny the work of logic and science; they have helped to shape our understanding of the world. But I do not define myself by it. My perception of reality is not measured by the restraints that the physical places on life. Looking beyond the tangible and into the “supernatural” is how I choose to be governed. I do not exempt myself from the standards of the world, but at the same time, I am not who the world tells me I am. While others are defining themselves by culture, or class, I choose to define myself by the words of the man who willingly became the Lamb led to the slaughter. While others embark on “journeys” of self-discovery, I find myself discovering who I am in Him. My reality is not only supernatural, but it is also tangible. Reason will argue that God must not exist because we cannot see Him, because we cannot touch Him, or because we cannot “talk” to Him. Anne Frank argued it best:

“I believe in the sun, even when it doesn’t shine. I believe in Love, even when I don’t feel it. And I believe in God, even when He is silent.”

It is in the moments of silence that we truly find ourselves. It is only then that we can know if what we ourselves hold to be true is indeed--the truth. As Christians, we must decide whether we will live out our lives according to the scriptures, or according to societal outlines. Living life through the red letters is more than lip service. It goes beyond our selves and into the realm of divine strength and appointment. The Bible should be our go to source for everything. Psalm 1:1,2 says, “Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night.” If we delight ourselves in the scriptures and the study of them surely we will be prosperous. If we live according to the words of Christ and allow ourselves to be saturated in His crimson flow, we have no way to go but up.