"you've brought me to the wilderness
where i will learn to sing
you've let me know my barrenness
so i will learn to lean."
this is the life i've chosen.
and i'm never going back.
no matter how the beauty of this world may call me
this ship is bound for light.
and so i'll bare my face, in the secret place,
and dark night of the soul.
and Only You Can Satisfy My Soul.
[and Your coming, soon enough,
this too shall pass, and we'll see True Beauty]
so let me be found faithful to Your heart.
let me be found set on Zion.
let me be found mourning.
let me be found waiting.
let me be found Burning.
because I'm in love.
and I'm never going back.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
it's the end of the world as we know it.
i heard this tale once, tall and towering,
yet somehow true...
and for its borrowing
i am here to let it out,
break the seams,
let rushing water overwhelm
this
infamous drought.
listen all ears
hungry for
emerald
and gold.
galatic fairytales
parables of old
hidden enigmas
never been told.
what
could
this be.
the great feeding
the mystery breeding
the beautiful shes
and the powerful hes
all in need.
for they are the broken.
they are the maimed.
and out of the heart shaped cavern of
hunger.
the calvary speaks,
"whisper Oh Man of the Desert
dusty feet
a wellspring of waters
tall oak Tree.
bury my bones in the
depths of your belly.
count back down from three.
let me grow
out of your skin
and speak to these roots,
say to these anchors like lead -
that hollow evenings are about to be fed
with cement
and there we shall sink deeep deeep
covered
in
the unbreakable.
unshakeable.
make us beautiful."
and there He stands.
mighty Man of war -
the jewel of the desert
sparkling against the Saharan sun
He vies for frail affection
like a hungry village for the burnt batch of rice.
dusty frames have no delight to offer
but still He withholds, only to entice.
this King, a jar filled with blood,
is Wisdom
rushing
roaring
soaking
the alluring Flood.
sparkle.
shine.
glitter.
sweet red wine.
"lets drink from your cup.
garnished veneer
golden studded handle
bubbles
and water
and red
and tears."
this is a pining for light.
liquid illumination.
He sets people on fire.
the people's come bounding.
it's the Burning Man in the desert.
His call is resounding.
and the great eagles of the sky
peer with their one seeing eye
down into the great bowl of sand
the seemingly barren barren barren land.
and the great God of the flame
is surrounded by rusty and weathered lampstands
the shattered and lame.
but they too
are burning.
burning.
burning.
"in His river of fire,
we are illuminated."
no one is being consumed.
like moses and His bush.
forever blazing
this is the hour.
watch.
squint into the Sun.
He breathes.
yet somehow true...
and for its borrowing
i am here to let it out,
break the seams,
let rushing water overwhelm
this
infamous drought.
listen all ears
hungry for
emerald
and gold.
galatic fairytales
parables of old
hidden enigmas
never been told.
what
could
this be.
the great feeding
the mystery breeding
the beautiful shes
and the powerful hes
all in need.
for they are the broken.
they are the maimed.
and out of the heart shaped cavern of
hunger.
the calvary speaks,
"whisper Oh Man of the Desert
dusty feet
a wellspring of waters
tall oak Tree.
bury my bones in the
depths of your belly.
count back down from three.
let me grow
out of your skin
and speak to these roots,
say to these anchors like lead -
that hollow evenings are about to be fed
with cement
and there we shall sink deeep deeep
covered
in
the unbreakable.
unshakeable.
make us beautiful."
and there He stands.
mighty Man of war -
the jewel of the desert
sparkling against the Saharan sun
He vies for frail affection
like a hungry village for the burnt batch of rice.
dusty frames have no delight to offer
but still He withholds, only to entice.
this King, a jar filled with blood,
is Wisdom
rushing
roaring
soaking
the alluring Flood.
sparkle.
shine.
glitter.
sweet red wine.
"lets drink from your cup.
garnished veneer
golden studded handle
bubbles
and water
and red
and tears."
this is a pining for light.
liquid illumination.
He sets people on fire.
the people's come bounding.
it's the Burning Man in the desert.
His call is resounding.
and the great eagles of the sky
peer with their one seeing eye
down into the great bowl of sand
the seemingly barren barren barren land.
and the great God of the flame
is surrounded by rusty and weathered lampstands
the shattered and lame.
but they too
are burning.
burning.
burning.
"in His river of fire,
we are illuminated."
no one is being consumed.
like moses and His bush.
forever blazing
this is the hour.
watch.
squint into the Sun.
He breathes.
same old thing
I haven't written in awhile...
which usually means something is terribly wrong.
I don't think, in this case, something is terribly, terribly wrong -
but I do think my heart has been in a rather chaotic state...
and the journey of "pursuing the Lord" has hit a rather
testing and trying place.
I can't decide if this is a beautiful valley to be in -
a great plunge into the depths of love within the arena of my heart...
for the wilderness of the repetitive,
the mundane,
the monotonous,
the routine,
is the greatest wilderness of all.
for this child at least....
eck.
this
is
such an arduous harbor to try to anchor yourself within
especially with sails such as these...
so prone to catch the wind of anything named "spontaneous"
and whose scarlet letter is that of the inconsistent and unsteady.
give me 45 days and i can walk on the path of the victorious,
but watch day 46 hit, and I become unraveled.
if you know me.
you'd agree.
and here i am singing to the words,
"good morning, brokenness..."
for broken i am.
into many pieces, and these pieces haven't found their home
to function as a whole
normal
working
human being.
My weakness is my dependence.
And again my eyes drift to the hills,
for there is where my help comes from.
He promises when I call, swimming in the mess of my own
inability to function without continual Aide,
and my frequent attempts to operate in independence,
even in that...
He would come and deliver me.
Here I am again,
let this cry be heard.
sometimes i try to figure out why He made me the way I am...
and I come to 2 (maybe 3) conclusions.
Let me list them,
to appease my own soul's anguish...
ha.
1.) I was made to be someone similar to Emily Dickinson,
locking myself in a small room of solitude,
and writing until my death bed.
2.) I was made to be an absolute mess of a woman unless
I am given to continuous and extended period of time to
being a little Mary, at the feet of Jesus
(I was NEVER good at being a Martha...)
3.) I was made to jump upon a train, wearing multiple layers of skirts
and bells and trinkets and things, eating off the land,
taking pictures with the camera I don't yet have, and writing small
ambiguous lines of poetry at the bottom of polaroids tacking them on
random trees and doorposts hoping it would breed revival...
4.) I was made for communion, and when I settle for anything less,
I stop being a whole human being.
So,
I lied, that was 4 conclusions, and I coulda kept going if I wanted to.
But I didn't want to.
And I think I'd have to agree with 2 and 4.
They sound right.
How often I convince myself, without totally mentally agreeing
(for how silly would it be if I made those statements within my head,
and then rejected them)
instead...
I just convince myself that I am neither 2 nor 4, by refusing to
acknowledge them...
in the midst of my little ihop life.
i'm making no sense.
and anyways, i listened to a sermon that changed my life.
it was misty talking about patient endurance...
a timely word, if not a billion other wonderful things,
that made me feel
not so alone.
it's one thing to pick the lifestyle of matthew 5,6, and 7 with
aggression and deep conviction for a month,
or months,
or even a year....
it's another to give yourself over to this for the long haul.
5 years
10 years
15 years
and on.
To try to find the rhythm within the wilderness,
and dance upon the dusty ground of
barrenness
day after
day after
day.
for a friend once told me:
the wilderness (hour of preparation, hiddenness, the Great purging)
the crucible of His burning away all that hinders love...
is hard.
its unconventional.
it does not cast a glorious light.
it's messy.
and it is rather humiliating.
oh
but
i believe
(or i wouldn't be sitting at this ugly card table
in this white room,
signing up again for this GREAT death)
it is wisdom.
and again,
His wisdom will be justified.
and...
Standing in the middle of a circle of those named, "the furnace of affliction and voluntary weakness"
as they come from every which direction,
moment after moment,
day after day,
kicking out so violently the props that have formed themselves to
my heart...
ahhhhh!
the props!
the props!
always there.
looking at me with those tired eyes
the props I've grown to hate..
and as soon as i find myself free of them,
the opaque ones come into view....
layer upon layer upon layer of
a faulty foundation.
and the bridge I burned yesterday in the name of abandonment
and violent pursuit
suddenly becomes the prop I find today I lean upon.
Oh that I would exit this wilderness
leaning only upon My beloved.
in that day, that I would be one who fully embraced wisdom
and found herself established in the cement of Jesus Himself.
Oh that I would claim patient endurance as my own...
Oh that I would follow in the footsteps of the flock
foot by foot.
step by step.
still fasting
still praying
still giving myself over the Word
still waiting
still listening
foot by foot
step by step
day after day after day...
Oh that I would believe that in my darkness
He calls me lovely
and one day I will see the wisdom of my weakness
remaining as a heavy cloak bearing it's weight upon my shoulders
as I try to run...
for I know He says he whose forgiven much, shall love much...
and how deep this reservoir of love is being dug.
for His forgiveness and mercy, and even more - His craving of my heart -
is the motivation that gets me out of bed
every single grey skied morning.
He wants me...
more than I want Him.
and I don't see why.
but that doesn't change it's truth.
---
and to tie this rambling post together.
and to bring some summary or some conclusion.
i am stumbling in this journey.
i feel His jealous flames burning away the darkness hidden in my heart.
And
until the day breaks, and the shadows flee away,
I will go my way
up the mountain of myrrh,
and the hill of frankincense.
for i am my beloveds, and He is mine.
and His desire is for me.
which usually means something is terribly wrong.
I don't think, in this case, something is terribly, terribly wrong -
but I do think my heart has been in a rather chaotic state...
and the journey of "pursuing the Lord" has hit a rather
testing and trying place.
I can't decide if this is a beautiful valley to be in -
a great plunge into the depths of love within the arena of my heart...
for the wilderness of the repetitive,
the mundane,
the monotonous,
the routine,
is the greatest wilderness of all.
for this child at least....
eck.
this
is
such an arduous harbor to try to anchor yourself within
especially with sails such as these...
so prone to catch the wind of anything named "spontaneous"
and whose scarlet letter is that of the inconsistent and unsteady.
give me 45 days and i can walk on the path of the victorious,
but watch day 46 hit, and I become unraveled.
if you know me.
you'd agree.
and here i am singing to the words,
"good morning, brokenness..."
for broken i am.
into many pieces, and these pieces haven't found their home
to function as a whole
normal
working
human being.
My weakness is my dependence.
And again my eyes drift to the hills,
for there is where my help comes from.
He promises when I call, swimming in the mess of my own
inability to function without continual Aide,
and my frequent attempts to operate in independence,
even in that...
He would come and deliver me.
Here I am again,
let this cry be heard.
sometimes i try to figure out why He made me the way I am...
and I come to 2 (maybe 3) conclusions.
Let me list them,
to appease my own soul's anguish...
ha.
1.) I was made to be someone similar to Emily Dickinson,
locking myself in a small room of solitude,
and writing until my death bed.
2.) I was made to be an absolute mess of a woman unless
I am given to continuous and extended period of time to
being a little Mary, at the feet of Jesus
(I was NEVER good at being a Martha...)
3.) I was made to jump upon a train, wearing multiple layers of skirts
and bells and trinkets and things, eating off the land,
taking pictures with the camera I don't yet have, and writing small
ambiguous lines of poetry at the bottom of polaroids tacking them on
random trees and doorposts hoping it would breed revival...
4.) I was made for communion, and when I settle for anything less,
I stop being a whole human being.
So,
I lied, that was 4 conclusions, and I coulda kept going if I wanted to.
But I didn't want to.
And I think I'd have to agree with 2 and 4.
They sound right.
How often I convince myself, without totally mentally agreeing
(for how silly would it be if I made those statements within my head,
and then rejected them)
instead...
I just convince myself that I am neither 2 nor 4, by refusing to
acknowledge them...
in the midst of my little ihop life.
i'm making no sense.
and anyways, i listened to a sermon that changed my life.
it was misty talking about patient endurance...
a timely word, if not a billion other wonderful things,
that made me feel
not so alone.
it's one thing to pick the lifestyle of matthew 5,6, and 7 with
aggression and deep conviction for a month,
or months,
or even a year....
it's another to give yourself over to this for the long haul.
5 years
10 years
15 years
and on.
To try to find the rhythm within the wilderness,
and dance upon the dusty ground of
barrenness
day after
day after
day.
for a friend once told me:
the wilderness (hour of preparation, hiddenness, the Great purging)
the crucible of His burning away all that hinders love...
is hard.
its unconventional.
it does not cast a glorious light.
it's messy.
and it is rather humiliating.
oh
but
i believe
(or i wouldn't be sitting at this ugly card table
in this white room,
signing up again for this GREAT death)
it is wisdom.
and again,
His wisdom will be justified.
and...
Standing in the middle of a circle of those named, "the furnace of affliction and voluntary weakness"
as they come from every which direction,
moment after moment,
day after day,
kicking out so violently the props that have formed themselves to
my heart...
ahhhhh!
the props!
the props!
always there.
looking at me with those tired eyes
the props I've grown to hate..
and as soon as i find myself free of them,
the opaque ones come into view....
layer upon layer upon layer of
a faulty foundation.
and the bridge I burned yesterday in the name of abandonment
and violent pursuit
suddenly becomes the prop I find today I lean upon.
Oh that I would exit this wilderness
leaning only upon My beloved.
in that day, that I would be one who fully embraced wisdom
and found herself established in the cement of Jesus Himself.
Oh that I would claim patient endurance as my own...
Oh that I would follow in the footsteps of the flock
foot by foot.
step by step.
still fasting
still praying
still giving myself over the Word
still waiting
still listening
foot by foot
step by step
day after day after day...
Oh that I would believe that in my darkness
He calls me lovely
and one day I will see the wisdom of my weakness
remaining as a heavy cloak bearing it's weight upon my shoulders
as I try to run...
for I know He says he whose forgiven much, shall love much...
and how deep this reservoir of love is being dug.
for His forgiveness and mercy, and even more - His craving of my heart -
is the motivation that gets me out of bed
every single grey skied morning.
He wants me...
more than I want Him.
and I don't see why.
but that doesn't change it's truth.
---
and to tie this rambling post together.
and to bring some summary or some conclusion.
i am stumbling in this journey.
i feel His jealous flames burning away the darkness hidden in my heart.
And
until the day breaks, and the shadows flee away,
I will go my way
up the mountain of myrrh,
and the hill of frankincense.
for i am my beloveds, and He is mine.
and His desire is for me.
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