You see me.
People walk by every day, Passing judgment on me, They say that surely I am a sinner Or born of those who sin, Surely I hold some blame for my blindness, Even your disciples say this, But you do something different, You say the work of God will be shown through me. You come close. Everyone else distances from me, Backs away, goes around, or like my parents, Abandons all hope for life for me, But you come close, use your spit to make mud for me, Put your matchless hands on my eyes, anointing me, Invite me to participate in my own healing. I wash and come home seeing. I testify boldly of the work God did in me. You find me. When I am disbelieved, again, You find me and reveal yourself to me. Son of Man, you are the real thing. Son of Man, you give me purpose and calling. Son of Man, you are worthy of worship and praise. Son of Man, thank you. Thank you for giving me eyes to see you. "he puts the deep into storehouses" psalm 33:7
King Constant gives me keys to His vast and many storehouses. Today I stop and select the key of childlike-boldness to open the door to a room that holds the deep. The door swings open and the deep stays contained within the borders he created for it - he is a masterful architect. I step in to the midst of the deep, dark blue waters, which move quietly and gather me into peace. I am surrounded and I have so much space to be. Earthly expectations fall off at the door to the deep, for they are not made to withstand the weight of glory. Free of such hindrances, I move and rest freely. While at first dark and sober, the further I swim into the deep, the more I notice light dancing playfully, penetrating even the lowest realms of these waters. Light unafraid of being misconstrued in its journey to the depths stirs my heart and mind and soul to lightness, too. There is no fear in love. The King's storehouses are only filled with good things. Gradually the shadows fall behind me and all I feel is joyful gratitude. I am carried here. I am safe. I can rest and not look back, trusting the God of the deep to lead me into brighter and clearer understanding of his ways and means. King Constant is the God of the deep. King Constant is the Breath inside me sustaining me. King Constant is my friend. He made a covenant of love with me, signed it by writing his name on my heart with a blood-filled engraving, sealed it with a holy kiss and his Spirit taking up residence within me. King Constant, he is holy. What hue of light would you like me to gather up and take with me from the storehouse of the deep today, my King? What hue and what texture? "Joy comes in the morning." Ah, a light that comes with a melody! To gather up this gift, I loosen up the knots, unwind, and open up the wineskin in which my heart has been maturing. I open it all the way up so my heart is fully exposed to the joy coming to wrap around me, the song of hope that is running at me full speed. Its notes envelope my heart, lift it, twirl it in embrace, then this joy itself reties the wineskin around me. "Joy, joy, joy, joy, down in your heart, down in your heart, down in your heart. Joy, joy, joy, joy down in your heart, down in your heart to stay." The song repeats and takes on harmonies and rich instrumentation as I swim back to the door of the deep. Something like viola and cello strings are the loudest in the tender mixture of things when my feet touch the ground again at the doorframe. I breathe deeply, looking out from the deep into the hallway. Isn't he wonderful, King Constant, isn't he lovely, to send me to gather up some of his joy to hold and even more to give away generously? The more I give, the more I have welling up in me. I step out of the deep. Shoes have been left at the doorway for me. I lace them up and stride onward, feet fitted with the readiness of the gospel of peace. It's a new day. It's a fresh morning. Joy is here, King Constant's joy in me. "It might just need to move into a bigger pot." This aloe vera plant that has survived me for four years, that I almost killed by neglect several times, it's still growing, and it's in too small of a pot now to support its growth. This aloe plant was a housewarming gift from two friends who taught me so much about community and creating family through sharing meals made together: everyone has something to bring to the table; and through sharing hearts authentically: better to be honest about a bad day and show up anyway than hide and reject loving arms. It lived inside first, in a living room. And then I moved and it enjoyed some time basking in the company of other plants on a front porch under the care of a quiet, steady saint. She moved and almost all its companions perished, and it almost did, too, but another steady saint moved it into a quiet, hidden place, and it continued to bloom. In the corner of that shower it got light and it got water. It heard prayers and it heard questions and it heard songs. It bore witness to heart changes and renewals of the mind, and quietly held the testimony of the fruit of God-centered community. An aloe vera plant. Break its leaves for access to a cool and healing balm that has been used for centuries all around this earth. This humble plant holds titles of "silent healer," "desert lily," "royal plant," and "plant of immortality." Its origins are uncertain, but its distinguishing name, vera, means "true" and its first name speaks of a fragrance and heartwood. I have grown up steeped in Christianity, so in gathering together the words heartwood, fragrance, and true, I can't help but think of the cross and my Savior upon it that Good Friday. Yeshua: Royalty who grew in wisdom silently for thirty years before stepping into the ministry that brings healing to the world and offers eternal life. Yeshua: The perfect fragrant offering. Yeshua: Flipping death on its head by redefining the shameful cross through submitting to it in humility and then resurrecting. Yeshua: The One who is always true. Of course it all points back to You. This gift that represents family, healing, life. All of your creation sings Your praises. All of your creation is made to bring glory to You. There's more here yet for me to learn, but for now I will sit in gratitude, in wonder, and begin my search for a bigger pot. SOURCES
A mysterious provenancehttps://blogs.biomedcentral.com/bmcseriesblog/2015/02/26/history-aloe-vera-arabian-desert-cream-use-hands/ “flower of the desert” “the plant of immortality” “elixir of eternal life” The benefits of aloe vera were discovered again at the end of World War II after verifying that it cured the burns of people injured in the nuclear explosions of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. https://www.atalayabio.com/en/the-history-of-aloe-vera/ "Desert Lily" "Royal plant" "Silent healer" In Sanskrit, Aloe is known as Ghrita Kumari, Kumar means girl and it was believed that this plant supplied the energy of youth to women and had a rejuvenating effect on the female nature. Christopher columbus once said, “Four vegetables are indispensable for the well being of man : wheat, the grape, the olive and Aloe. The first nourishes him, the second raises his spirit, the third brings him harmony and the fourth cures him.” http://www.iosrjournals.org/iosr-jhss/papers/Vol.%2022%20Issue8/Version-16/D2208162124.pdf Etymology originally in reference to the drug, from Latin aloe, from Greek aloe, which is of uncertain origin, probably a loan-word from an Oriental language A secondary sense is older in English: "Fragrant resin or heartwood of an East Indian tree" Vera - true https://www.etymonline.com/word/aloe "Can they bring the stones back to life
From those heaps of rubble - Burned as they are?" With the gracious hand of the Lord upon us, Yes. A humble and resounding yes. Not by man's might nor wisdom, Not by man's power nor strength, But in surrender and in fellowship With God's covenant of love, Yes, we will labor night and day Trusting in the faithfulness of Yahweh, We will build side by side, Wall by wall, gate by gate, Guarding the low and vulnerable places, Heeding the trumpet's blast, Praising and praying, Watching and working, Brother and neighbor together, Moving too diligently to listen to The mocking cries of the enemy With their words that hold no weight in eternity. They fear the Lord but do not know Him. We know the Lord and therefore fear Him. He is Yahweh. Faithful to respond to all Who turn and give their whole heart to Him. He is Yahweh. He is the Lord. He breathed life into the void with a word. The charred and ashy rubble of these walls Will breathe and sing again. He has declared it, so it is already done. Lack is loud and logical
"You don't have what you need" Lack keeps a record A dirty laundry list of inadequacies "You'll never be enough for this" Perhaps I won't be But my God's not afraid of my smallness He's overjoyed that all I have to bring Is my heart So I hold it out to Him again In offering Mirroring His posture As He holds His heart out to me "Surrender is the safeguard" What does that mean? "Surrender is the safeguard Give it all to Me Shamelessness saturated with humility Childlikeness entwined with maturity Surrender is the safeguard for your heart Your heart is safe with Me" Wholehearted I asked Him once what His purpose was for me And He said "Be wholehearted Follow after Me" I know His voice It is gentle and steady I know His heart It is pure and holy Surrender Wholeheartedly You would have me be so undignified
Because you are not a respecter of persons, God-Man moving in the dirt streets among us. You know too intimately the beauty of humility, So you woo me into humility, into communion, You woo me again and again, in gentleness, You who are whole so as not to need me, Yet so whole that you call me to you in love. You would have me be so undignified; It is the heart posture required for me to dance In rhythm with you who sat undignified At so many tables with so many other souls Just like me. I’m nothing special and still I’m your everything, so I’ll sing off-tune And I’ll dance undignified and I will offer Myself as a sacrifice of praise to you alone, My doting, undignified, glorified, worthy king. expectations are suffocating.
how do I get breath knocked back in to my lungs that are tired of trying to breathe? because this is both a void and quicksand that I am trapped in, so I need a lifeline and oxygen, a gulp of air and a grip, I need someone who believes I will make it through this - alive - someone who won't let me go under. a rough piece of wood is offered to me, there's an inscription nailed to one end I can't read, there's only one crossbeam, so it doesn't look like much of a ladder, is this all the help that is coming for me? I don't even know how to grab ahold of this thing. I see a man standing at the other end of this wood, his wrists are scarred, and there's a knowing in his gaze: he's been to hell and back, too, and yet still finds life worth the living. I want to know his secret, want to know just how he remains standing for me, what his reason is for being present with me when no one else even noticed I was drowning, how did he notice the choked up plea screaming out from the heart of me, will he stay or will he leave, I almost think I hear him say a few words, it sounds like he says "come to me," or is it "I've come for you, to set you free"? it couldn't be, it couldn't be either one, not spoken directly me, but he's still standing, still has his gaze set on me, there's a word on his lips, it's my name, it's my name, he really is here for me, he calls my name and he's reaching towards me with so much calm authority, I reach and then pull back, how did he find me? "I've been here for you all along" then why am I drowning? "I don't force entry" why do I see you now? "Sometimes in pain I am seen more clearly. You asked for breath and the breath I died to offer you is everything" your scars "Declare it is finished. Declare death is done reigning even here." how, please, I still don't understand "The breath I have to give comes with faith, come to me, I will give you rest" rest. I've never known a day without striving "You can find rest in me" it doesn't make sense but I believe him, I'll risk it, what do I have to lose, so I touch his hand, and I'm still being squeezed, but he's closer now, right next to me, his heartbeat is a steady rhythm, a low drumbeat I can feel just as I feel this unexplainable warmth and peace washing over every single dry and dehydrated part of me, just this peace, peace, peace, peace, it takes time, but eventually I realize I am breathing, this man walked into the void, the pit, to be with me and now I'm breathing freely and I think I believe he loves me Crowds. There are always these crowds around you, masses of messy people pressing in, jostling and yelling and straining - how can I be anything but lost among them?
I am drained dry, empty and ostracized. My body has been bleeding for a full dozen years and no one, not one person, has helped me. I've paid all the fees and sought all man's wisdom and it has left me hunched over here, still bleeding, still unclean and unable to come into the temple courts to worship as I long to. But there's something about you, man in the middle of the clamoring crowds and messy masses, there's something about you that gives me hope. So here and now I will push through, I will go low, I'll crawl my way to you if it means I can touch but the hem of your cloak - I don't know what I expected, but the powerful love that just moved through me was a stronger and kinder embrace than I have ever felt in all of my days. Your voice cuts through my awe, "Who touched me?" I did, my Savior, I did, my King. You stop and meet me in the middle of this swirling crowd and hear my whole story. You ignore your disciples anxious looks, they think you are needed more elsewhere and urgently, but you stop all the way to see and hear me. And then you say to me, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” I will, my Lord, I will. I will go in peace and in awe of your love for me. "Lighten up."
Accept your light, lift my head up to see the sky above, release my fierce grip on my false belief that I am the one who grows things. Labor though I must, I have to also rest and trust that it's true that all the growing is up to you - Maker of all things. You brush the dust off my shoulders. You pour your cool water on my hands, head, and heart, and use your shirt to clean the grime off. You take your time getting the mud out of the cracks in my hands and the grooves in my mind and you pause at my heart: "Beloved, your heart is already clean." You touch my mind again, revealing the places I've been deceived, "You are loved. You don't need to create enemies with your assumptions; they are distortions. You are free. You carry my freedom. Your confidence in me breaks chains. You are already free. You are already clean." You hold my gaze. Firmly. Gently. You hold my gaze. You smile. You laugh and dump the water over my head so I'm drenched, then pull me close into a hug. "You are not far from me. I never withdraw or hide my face from you. I always keep you this close to my heart. You're always this close. Your heart touching mine. Abide. Find your rest in me." I've fallen apart before
And what I've found Is that your love Keeps me around Your love surrounds me Patiently Your love reminds me Your blood speaks a better word Than all my pain Your love remains Faithful And you've always loved this way |
AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
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