Just something I've been thinking about lately, mulling over, savoring, untangling...
The Lord's care for us is so complete; there is nothing lacking in it. Even in the thicket of stress and messiness, when we trust God and then are brought to a place of struggle--how I long to learn to trust Him when I am in that place. I feel a conviction in my bones about it. What does this mean, Lord? Have you called me to this, this radical generousity? Are You planting in my heart the willingness to sacrifice and suffer? Are You beckoning me, once again, to discover how You are enough, completely, utterly, Your flesh and blood as tangible substance, enough to fill our bellies? (My words, even, are they of any use to You?)
"Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no part in me..." This is what You say. Is this the meaning of abiding in Christ, the journey of concluding, time and time again, as the path twists and turns in crisis and hope, that He is enough? Him and Him alone?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Friday, February 08, 2008
Unto the heart of man -- a Psalm {February 2008}
Peaking through the curtains at daybreak
Behold, the flecks of sunlight;
Beyond the emerald green forest
Sunbeams flicker bright--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
Yet some days are filled with nothing but
Storming winds, darkened clouds;
Men claim to be alive, but we are only
The walking dead wrapped up in our linen shrouds--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
In the thicket of my mind
Amidst the darkest nights of doubt and fear;
I was rescued over and over,
Moments came of hope, crystal clear--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
A man walked the dusty streets of Palestine
With good news to tell the world;
Inviting us to become dwellers of his kingdom courts,
He came to wake us up to dreams unfurled--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
The Lord is ever with us.
Though the night comes
(the darkness that envelops all signs of life),
Though we so often settle outside the kingdom gates
(with no hope of ever stepping foot inside),
The Lord waits.
The Lord waited on the other side
of the darkness; He waited beyond the gate,
Until I called to him,
For freedom, for life.
He is the Lord of the morning sunrise, after the night
He is the Lord of the butterfly, after the cocoon
He is the Lord of blue skies, after the storm
He is the Lord of my bewildered heart
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
Behold, the flecks of sunlight;
Beyond the emerald green forest
Sunbeams flicker bright--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
Yet some days are filled with nothing but
Storming winds, darkened clouds;
Men claim to be alive, but we are only
The walking dead wrapped up in our linen shrouds--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
In the thicket of my mind
Amidst the darkest nights of doubt and fear;
I was rescued over and over,
Moments came of hope, crystal clear--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
A man walked the dusty streets of Palestine
With good news to tell the world;
Inviting us to become dwellers of his kingdom courts,
He came to wake us up to dreams unfurled--
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
The Lord is ever with us.
Though the night comes
(the darkness that envelops all signs of life),
Though we so often settle outside the kingdom gates
(with no hope of ever stepping foot inside),
The Lord waits.
The Lord waited on the other side
of the darkness; He waited beyond the gate,
Until I called to him,
For freedom, for life.
He is the Lord of the morning sunrise, after the night
He is the Lord of the butterfly, after the cocoon
He is the Lord of blue skies, after the storm
He is the Lord of my bewildered heart
Unto the heart of man, the Lord is a light;
Let us all look to him for our hope.
Monday, January 21, 2008
refuge {jan 2008}
You see me even with my hard hat of doubt blocking You out. I don’t realize that it is sometimes.
I need to know that I’m going to be okay; I’m afraid of what You’re going to take away, for my good somehow.
I’m afraid of holding on to things, (what if I get hurt?)
but
I cling desperately to it all.
I’m scared of what awaits me around the corner… (yet You lead me onward)
Flow over my heart as a river does… please don’t leave me, though I leave you so often…
Your grace is to me a place to rest, a refuge
I need to know that I’m going to be okay; I’m afraid of what You’re going to take away, for my good somehow.
I’m afraid of holding on to things, (what if I get hurt?)
but
I cling desperately to it all.
I’m scared of what awaits me around the corner… (yet You lead me onward)
Flow over my heart as a river does… please don’t leave me, though I leave you so often…
Your grace is to me a place to rest, a refuge
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
To Kill A King {PART IV}
Twisting, turning, a puncture in a soldier’s thumb. They bent the crown of thorns, and forced it onto Jesus’ head, drawing blood from his forehead; it was falling, seeping down his cheeks, much like tears. The soldiers made him dress in a purple gown, and mocked him, over and over again, and hit him. Hail, king of the Jews! Hail, king of the Jews! Hail now, you king!
Pilate brought Jesus outside to stand before the Jews, looking like this. He looked weak, pitiful, and was covered in his own blood; he was an open target for ridicule. Pilate said to the crowd, “Look, here he is! I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no basis for a charge against him…”
The people began to chant, with passion and vigor: Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!
But Pilate responded by saying, “You can take him and crucify him if you see fit. As for me, I believe he is innocent.”
The Jews said, “We have a law, and according to that law, this man must die! You see, he claimed to be the Son of God!”
When Pilate heard this, fear and confusion rose up inside of him. He went back inside with Jesus and immediately asked him, “Where do you come from?”
Silence.
Jesus was silent.
“Do you refuse to speak to me? Don’t you know I have the power to either save your life or end it? Yet, you choose to keep your mouth shut!”
Then, Jesus spoke: “You are not the one with the power to kill me. You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you in the first place is the one who hold the greater power, and also is the one guilty of the greater sin.”
From that point on, something changed in Pilate. He wanted to set Jesus free, but the people convinced him of his duty to honor Caesar.
Pilate brought Jesus back outside, and then went over to sit on the judge’s seat.
“Here is your king,” he said to the crowd.
Take him away! Crucify! Take him away! Away! Crucify! The chants were deafening.
Pilate asked them, “Shall I crucify your king?”
“We have no king but Caesar,” responded the chief priests, with all their religious pride.
With that, Pilate gave in. He handed Jesus over to the Jews. He handed him over to be crucified.
~ ~ ~
The soldiers seized Jesus, and forced him to drag his own cross up to the top of a hill called Golgotha. They crucified him on this hill, with him in the middle and two others on either side.
The soldiers divided up Jesus’ clothing between four of them, leaving one garment remaining on his body.
Nailed to the top of Jesus’ cross, Pilate had prepared a sign. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.
The chief priests whined about this, and asked Pilate to changed the sign so that it did not say that Jesus was the king of the Jews, but that he only claimed to be the king of the Jews. Pilate refused to change what he had written.
~ ~ ~
After much time had passed, Jesus had lost nearly all of his strength and was almost ready to go to the Father.
In a dry, cracked voice, Jesus whispered the words, “I am thirsty.”
A soldier nearby soaked a sponge in wine vinegar, and stuck it on the end of a hyssop stalk, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. Jesus felt the bitter liquid seep into the cracks of his lips and down his throat.
With that, Jesus spoke his last words: “It is finished.”
He bowed his head, and breathed his last breath.
And his spirit left his body. His spirit left his skin.
~ ~ ~
The soldiers came to take down the bodies of the crucified men, and before doing so, it was appropriate to break the men’s legs. They broke the legs of the other two men, but when they came to Jesus, they decided it was not necessary, since he was already dead. Instead, a soldier plunged a spear deep into Jesus’ side.
Suddenly, out of the wound flowed blood and water…
Pilate brought Jesus outside to stand before the Jews, looking like this. He looked weak, pitiful, and was covered in his own blood; he was an open target for ridicule. Pilate said to the crowd, “Look, here he is! I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no basis for a charge against him…”
The people began to chant, with passion and vigor: Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!
But Pilate responded by saying, “You can take him and crucify him if you see fit. As for me, I believe he is innocent.”
The Jews said, “We have a law, and according to that law, this man must die! You see, he claimed to be the Son of God!”
When Pilate heard this, fear and confusion rose up inside of him. He went back inside with Jesus and immediately asked him, “Where do you come from?”
Silence.
Jesus was silent.
“Do you refuse to speak to me? Don’t you know I have the power to either save your life or end it? Yet, you choose to keep your mouth shut!”
Then, Jesus spoke: “You are not the one with the power to kill me. You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you in the first place is the one who hold the greater power, and also is the one guilty of the greater sin.”
From that point on, something changed in Pilate. He wanted to set Jesus free, but the people convinced him of his duty to honor Caesar.
Pilate brought Jesus back outside, and then went over to sit on the judge’s seat.
“Here is your king,” he said to the crowd.
Take him away! Crucify! Take him away! Away! Crucify! The chants were deafening.
Pilate asked them, “Shall I crucify your king?”
“We have no king but Caesar,” responded the chief priests, with all their religious pride.
With that, Pilate gave in. He handed Jesus over to the Jews. He handed him over to be crucified.
~ ~ ~
The soldiers seized Jesus, and forced him to drag his own cross up to the top of a hill called Golgotha. They crucified him on this hill, with him in the middle and two others on either side.
The soldiers divided up Jesus’ clothing between four of them, leaving one garment remaining on his body.
Nailed to the top of Jesus’ cross, Pilate had prepared a sign. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.
The chief priests whined about this, and asked Pilate to changed the sign so that it did not say that Jesus was the king of the Jews, but that he only claimed to be the king of the Jews. Pilate refused to change what he had written.
~ ~ ~
After much time had passed, Jesus had lost nearly all of his strength and was almost ready to go to the Father.
In a dry, cracked voice, Jesus whispered the words, “I am thirsty.”
A soldier nearby soaked a sponge in wine vinegar, and stuck it on the end of a hyssop stalk, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. Jesus felt the bitter liquid seep into the cracks of his lips and down his throat.
With that, Jesus spoke his last words: “It is finished.”
He bowed his head, and breathed his last breath.
And his spirit left his body. His spirit left his skin.
~ ~ ~
The soldiers came to take down the bodies of the crucified men, and before doing so, it was appropriate to break the men’s legs. They broke the legs of the other two men, but when they came to Jesus, they decided it was not necessary, since he was already dead. Instead, a soldier plunged a spear deep into Jesus’ side.
Suddenly, out of the wound flowed blood and water…
Friday, November 16, 2007
untitled {Oct 2007}
I often walk
with a shell on. Leave me be, I say,
adore only what I have facepainted
on
I never wanted to live
this way. To be free seems
like a commodity I can't afford.
I can't afford this love either.
This love that chases, wraps itself
around my heart;
the Love that is You.
I can't afford to be changed by it,
To quit backflipping, cartwheeling,
somersaulting around what I am
thirsty for,
and to take a drink.
Can I really sit at the table?
Can I lay here, let the rays of the sun
warm my frozen heart?
Can I really walk, live, breathe
with no shell on?
Your love breaks me.
It shatters me to pieces.
It frustrates me.
(Where are You, nameless One?
Sing to me; I find it hard to keep the melody
on days like this)
And then You send a love note, a postcard,
a warm bench,
a bumble bee (what a bother).
A long hug, a singing sparrow,
a blackberry bush, a friend.
Maybe You are here.
And holding on for me, when my
strength is gone.
Maybe there is no brick wall
between me and Your love.
(Here You are, and here I am,
ready to take off my shell,
sit at the table,
lay my heart down;
Here I am)
with a shell on. Leave me be, I say,
adore only what I have facepainted
on
I never wanted to live
this way. To be free seems
like a commodity I can't afford.
I can't afford this love either.
This love that chases, wraps itself
around my heart;
the Love that is You.
I can't afford to be changed by it,
To quit backflipping, cartwheeling,
somersaulting around what I am
thirsty for,
and to take a drink.
Can I really sit at the table?
Can I lay here, let the rays of the sun
warm my frozen heart?
Can I really walk, live, breathe
with no shell on?
Your love breaks me.
It shatters me to pieces.
It frustrates me.
(Where are You, nameless One?
Sing to me; I find it hard to keep the melody
on days like this)
And then You send a love note, a postcard,
a warm bench,
a bumble bee (what a bother).
A long hug, a singing sparrow,
a blackberry bush, a friend.
Maybe You are here.
And holding on for me, when my
strength is gone.
Maybe there is no brick wall
between me and Your love.
(Here You are, and here I am,
ready to take off my shell,
sit at the table,
lay my heart down;
Here I am)
Monday, September 03, 2007
stories
leave me here awhile;; on this riverside
remind me of days gone by,
of the day I first left my burdens here
I heard of Your glory
in a story.
flagrant;; i gave caution to the wind
let go of my own world,
how I would build it,
and took hold of Yours
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
then came the winter.
all hope;; buried, frozen in the snow, in the never ending cold, never to see the sunrise again.
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
until one day, mercies anew;;
i awoke to the sounds of spring
never would I have
believed it
until, in my heart, I knew.
i knew it in my heart.
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
stories, unraveling stories;; life. Life is all about stories
this is mine:
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
~ec
remind me of days gone by,
of the day I first left my burdens here
I heard of Your glory
in a story.
flagrant;; i gave caution to the wind
let go of my own world,
how I would build it,
and took hold of Yours
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
then came the winter.
all hope;; buried, frozen in the snow, in the never ending cold, never to see the sunrise again.
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
until one day, mercies anew;;
i awoke to the sounds of spring
never would I have
believed it
until, in my heart, I knew.
i knew it in my heart.
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
stories, unraveling stories;; life. Life is all about stories
this is mine:
(it is by grace that we have been saved)
~ec
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
To Kill A King {PART III}
When the morning came, the Jews then took Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. It was as if the Jews were desperately searching for any means of getting rid of Jesus. This is why they brought him to Pilate, a Roman ruler objective to the situation and outside of Israel’s circle, as their last resort.
The Jews brought him to the palace, but refused to go inside themselves, for fear of contaminating themselves before the Passover feast. So, Jesus went inside, but the Jews stayed outside, and Pilate went back and forth between the two. Pilate was confused about why they were so angry with Jesus, so ready to curse and murder him.
“If he were not a criminal,” they replied, “we would not have handed him over to you.”
Pilate wanted nothing to do with the situation: “Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.”
“But we have no right to execute anyone,” objected the Jews, in contempt.
With that, Pilate left and went back inside the palace, where Jesus was. He came right out and asked him bluntly, “Are you the king of the Jews?”
Jesus replied with sarcasm, “Is that your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?”
“It was your own people, the Jews, who handed you over to me. You must have done something to set them off. You see, I am just acting on their behalf; I am not one of them,” Pilate responded.
“My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight for me, preventing my arrest and my death. My kingdom is from another place now.”
Pilate thought he caught Jesus changing his story: “You just said it! You are a king!”
But Jesus cleared things up, saying, “You are right: I am a king. It was for this reason I came into the world: to lead my people, as a king would, in the way of truth. Everyone who listens to the truth listens to me.”
In true Roman fashion, Pilate confused things again. He responded, “What is truth, anyway?”
At that, he left Jesus and went back outside, telling the Jews that he believed Jesus to be innocent. However, it was tradition at the time of the Passover to release a prisoner from custody. Pilate asked the crowd, “Do you want me to release ‘the king of the Jews’?”
They shouted back loudly, insisting that another prisoner be released instead- a man named Barabbas, who had taken part in a rebellion.
So Pilate gave in to the pressure from the crowd, took Jesus, and planned to have him flogged.
The Jews brought him to the palace, but refused to go inside themselves, for fear of contaminating themselves before the Passover feast. So, Jesus went inside, but the Jews stayed outside, and Pilate went back and forth between the two. Pilate was confused about why they were so angry with Jesus, so ready to curse and murder him.
“If he were not a criminal,” they replied, “we would not have handed him over to you.”
Pilate wanted nothing to do with the situation: “Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.”
“But we have no right to execute anyone,” objected the Jews, in contempt.
With that, Pilate left and went back inside the palace, where Jesus was. He came right out and asked him bluntly, “Are you the king of the Jews?”
Jesus replied with sarcasm, “Is that your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?”
“It was your own people, the Jews, who handed you over to me. You must have done something to set them off. You see, I am just acting on their behalf; I am not one of them,” Pilate responded.
“My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight for me, preventing my arrest and my death. My kingdom is from another place now.”
Pilate thought he caught Jesus changing his story: “You just said it! You are a king!”
But Jesus cleared things up, saying, “You are right: I am a king. It was for this reason I came into the world: to lead my people, as a king would, in the way of truth. Everyone who listens to the truth listens to me.”
In true Roman fashion, Pilate confused things again. He responded, “What is truth, anyway?”
At that, he left Jesus and went back outside, telling the Jews that he believed Jesus to be innocent. However, it was tradition at the time of the Passover to release a prisoner from custody. Pilate asked the crowd, “Do you want me to release ‘the king of the Jews’?”
They shouted back loudly, insisting that another prisoner be released instead- a man named Barabbas, who had taken part in a rebellion.
So Pilate gave in to the pressure from the crowd, took Jesus, and planned to have him flogged.
forget {July 2007}
Hot air is blowing in, when I want it to be cool. The room is
Stuffy enough already. My eyes are dark, cannot see.
You say that my heart grasps on to what I treasure, somedays
I forget about that. Today is one of those days. I flail and backflip
around my things, my threads. Is
this really blessing? This yoke is too much to bear on days like this.
On days like this, I wish I could stand up straight once again
What is my name today?
To be free, I forget. Somedays I allow my brain to empty itself. Somedays
I forget.
When I forget You, I forget everything.
how to walk, how to put one foot in front
of the other.
If I just lay here, maybe
Just maybe, You will come
And I won’t have to remind myself
What my name is
~ec
Stuffy enough already. My eyes are dark, cannot see.
You say that my heart grasps on to what I treasure, somedays
I forget about that. Today is one of those days. I flail and backflip
around my things, my threads. Is
this really blessing? This yoke is too much to bear on days like this.
On days like this, I wish I could stand up straight once again
What is my name today?
To be free, I forget. Somedays I allow my brain to empty itself. Somedays
I forget.
When I forget You, I forget everything.
how to walk, how to put one foot in front
of the other.
If I just lay here, maybe
Just maybe, You will come
And I won’t have to remind myself
What my name is
~ec
an ocean apart {July 2007}
Sit with me awhile
on this soft sand
Promises
off in the distance
these message-in-a-bottle promises
bobbing up and down, up and down in the ocean, washing
up on the shores of my heart.
I miss the way you shake up this heart of mine, with all of the
promises you send my way, in bottles. All of my shelves
are full of
them.
Your bottles are the first
to hold
promises that are real.
You can make a gloomy day beautiful again,
breeze gentle, warmth soft, skies blue.
here we are, an ocean apart…
waiting for the promises,
hidden inside bobbing bottles,
to wash up on shore.
~ec
on this soft sand
Promises
off in the distance
these message-in-a-bottle promises
bobbing up and down, up and down in the ocean, washing
up on the shores of my heart.
I miss the way you shake up this heart of mine, with all of the
promises you send my way, in bottles. All of my shelves
are full of
them.
Your bottles are the first
to hold
promises that are real.
You can make a gloomy day beautiful again,
breeze gentle, warmth soft, skies blue.
here we are, an ocean apart…
waiting for the promises,
hidden inside bobbing bottles,
to wash up on shore.
~ec
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