Melodies

and my heart is still singing
your words are still ringing
through my soul.
There is no laughter,
I can only hear crying
you voice is still
over it all, always there.

No doubt about it,
I long to still shout it
in the rain.
When there is still singing
and your praises are ringing
everywhere.

So become my vision
become my hope
be all my heart wants to see
all else, let it go.
Today there is silence,
no singing at all.
But in the midst of the quiet,
you're still God of all.

These words come through
like melodies
sung of you
so awakening, captivating
all of me.
Jesus reign in the here and now.

Good Morning

Easy to create a title when my eyes are rested, soul anticipating a good day, which is unknown, but God is here, and God still remains when I am faithless. Nothing compares to starting a morning steeping my soul, mind, and spirit in the scripture of God. Nehemiah is fascinating in its powerful testimony of a people who are able to look back on the wonders of God, the flowing grace and forgiveness, the gloriousness of His name, and say "Blessed be your glorious name" (9:5). They are amazed at how God was truly there, providing in amazing ways from the choosing of Abram, the Red Sea parting, and the wandering in the wilderness. All things that at the time were unexplainable, but looking back they so clearly reflect God's sovereignty. All the while God remained faithful, even when they could not see it or actually complained about its apparent absence. "Help me in my unbelief" could have escaped their lips, in the midst of the reality beyond their circumstances, but instead they focus on their understanding and lose the grandeur of God's greater plan. There is a greater plan of redemption, culminating on the cross and His return to consummate all things as we now look to eternity. Let my hope rest in that culmination, in the Savior who is, who was, and who is to come.

Titles are the hardest, to put into the line the summation of my heart. To tell you exactly what I am feeling, experiences, and bringing to this paragraph. It is not enough my fingers decide, as I tab down to begin writing. I am eager and anxiously awaiting the opportunity to let my fingers go wild, to animate upon the screen the things that are upon my soul. I love writing, probably should be studying PolySci, but instead I am listening to soft Christian music, exhaling in peace because I have the opportunity to stop today and write. What a beautiful gift. I was called beautiful today and it surprised me. I wonder if he truly sees what I do. What difference does it make anyways? I am a new creation, that I can understand and feel and believe, but as my eyes look upon the image before me, in the mirror, I cannot wrap my head around myself being included in the Imago Dei. I simply cannot comprehend the identity of my soul, my face, being made in the image of God, obviously tainted by sin, but STILL. I cannot measure up to that identity. I simply can't ever. isn't that the point though? That CHRIST alone still sees me and thinks I am worthy of still loving, even enough to die for me?! When results fail, Christ is enough. When tests go poorly, Christ is enough. Maybe that's my problem. I try to create this beautiful poem, fighting the reality that it would fit much better in prose. OR that I am a sinner in need of grace and cannot understand nor rationalize the cross. OR that Christ's love terrifies me when I face it in the presence of my inadequacy because I will never be able to react sufficiently to it.

Poetry in Waiting

What beauty falls from the sky
when heaven cries
redemption comes
life from parched soil grows
slowly, with certain determination
is this growth up towards heaven
in hopes or reacting
to the beauty calling
it now shines before others
unaware of its beginnings
for it only grows now because of the beauty
calling us to look upward.

Can't I feel deeper of your grace and your truth?
Cannot the silence of my heart cry out to you?
This is not a checkpoint, I refuse to let him see it
to judge my hearts progress, oh that he would hear it
in conversations, in silent processing
that this relationship would be yours, God
Go and make disciples, let that never see a day
when that call doesn't appear upon my face
its all yours Lord, take what you want,
as dew appears and is gone, so it is with me
I long for that day again
when flowing from heart, i'd pen
the most beautiful, raw of lyrics
oh God that you would hear it
but I know that you are listening
and my heart is quickening
knowing you hear me
calling me child, accepted and loved
fully known and yet fully redeemed
forgiven, sacrificed for, redemption is calling
every second, though life drones on
there is a melody I can hear when I stop and breathe
Lord, cease the day when I stop listening!

Running Over Again

My feet hit the ground, eyes gazing around this work before me, begun at the beginning of time. The river reminds me of home, the water, the birds, the green trees, they all point not only to a home I have 2000 miles from this point, but beyond that, beyond to a home eternal, a hope that is everlasting. Man, do I love running. There is something about being away from buildings, cars, pollution that feels safe. Away from broken relationships, where it's just Jesus and me. It is safe but it is not permanent. My soul clings to the woods for it cannot hurt me like people can, I cannot damage the woods like I bring damage, pride, selfish desires to the relationships around me. Like a convent that promises safety, but cannot produce sanctification, so these woods have become for the here and now. Can't I just run here forever? My soul, and body at this point, as the run nears towards an end, are ready for the next thing. Solitude cannot sustain, Jesus alone can. I have this uncanny ability to place my hope in others. Whether that is to make me feel loved, worthy, accepted, you can meet me for two seconds and even in that moment will I seek your acceptance and approval.

My Own Hummingbird

"But maybe, just maybe, this hummingbird realized that we need the resurrection on cloudy days.

Maybe, just maybe, the hummingbird remembered that we’ve been told to die daily because once wasn’t enough to become a new creation.

Maybe, just maybe, the hummingbird knows that there are some pains that come in and out, but never quite leave."- Danielle Isbell 

Let it be like the rainbows across the sky.

mountains

listen, I want to blog, I want to pour out my soul through these fingers upon the keys to convey to a future version of myself the faithful, enduring love of Christ. To remind myself of how I fell crying upon the floor after having seen that car accident, to reassure myself that in those moments of weakness and deep compassion I am reminded in part of how Christ sees his people when, in the midst of chaos, we become too wounded to help ourselves and in desperation cry out to Him for help. Maybe mercy is not what I think it looks like. When I cried out in deep petition for my brothers in Christ for God to have mercy on them as they were loaded into the ambulance, many tears felt stinging in my eyes, imagining the depth of life-changing injuries that they probably sustained. To be rendered helpless almost to the point of immobility by another human being is terrifying, but what if, even if it ended up leading to paralysis, God's mercy would still remain. What if when I cry for God to have mercy upon my soul, it could result in my pain, and further discomfort?! dang. How blessed can this, could this, opportunity to be away from my family for longer than I'd like? What if in the hot tears, the bent knees God's mercy is unfolding itself in those coughed out breaths? Rejoice in the Lord, always. Now, even now, ESPECIALLY now, can I rejoice in the reality that I am drowning in the mercies of my Father. I cannot escape it and praise God from the depths of my soul. Man, if this could be an endless feeling, if I could simply pick up every footstep knowing that circumstance doesn't shift God's mercy further from me, I feel like I could live such a deeper life of gratitude, to be constantly aware of your mercies, Lord, is my prayer and petition to you. Thanksgiving must result because you hear me when I call, and you will respond according to your promises and perfect will. Therefore, I will rejoice in the opportunity to cry brokenhearted tears, to grip each moment with a peace, knowing God saved me, He is good, and His love endures forever. The mountain set before me, idolizing a place I am not yet in, assuming it will fix me, let it be washed away by the continual renewal of your mercy in brokenness and grace in peace.