How one historic night changes everything

Jesus didn't die
just so we could be saved.

Didn't die so we could for once
be well-behaved.
Not because He caved.
Or waived.
Or was enslaved.

He came for life, not just eternal.
To change our inside, not just external.

The veil was torn, ripped right in two
And what was behind that veil came through.

No longer are we compliant, cold and separate
But the very presence of God became closely knit.

Inside, alongside, beside...Bride
Our desires now with His collide.

Concerning, yearning, our hearts burning
The tables of strength are finally turning

Surrender, we long for His glorious splendor
Yet fully in Him, our hearts we render

Perspective fleeting
Clarity daunting
I cling
I sing
Refusing the taunting
I know
I glow
His Spirit in me
To move
As He moves
I now have the key

The very presence of God that was separated from us as symbolized by the veil in the temple is no longer hidden. Therefore, what began with salvation must not end there. If Christ is in us, the Hope of Glory...then I must live to
tell the story.

"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. "
(1 Cor 1:18)

Why do lily pads make me so happy?

But for a moment...

Well, it's Thursday again. I have always known that inspiration cannot be faked, and it is true yet again today. With the pace of life sometimes comes the inability of pure focus.

A moment of clarity comes: I must change.

Many moments of "blank staring" stay and play: But how do I change?

All I know is that I need and want so desperately not to be left the same. I hear the words echoing in my heart, "if you want to change, then stop doing what you hate."

And a glimpse of clarity reigns again...for a moment.

When you blow your nose...something will always come out

I usually write on Thursdays.

But what do I write about when it's Thursday and I have nothing to say?

Do I feel pressure and squeeze myself like a tube of toothpaste until the blue and red colors get all mixed together and slooshy green comes out...cuz, after all, it's still toothpaste. It will still clean my teeth when it's the stuff at the bottom of the tube, won't it?

What else do I do under pressure...

I write letters to my grandma. Her memory is failing, but she notices. She likes thank you cards for her birthday letters. And she lives two floors above my other grandma, who forgets my birthday every year, so when SHE finds out that the other one got mail...she probably wonders what she did wrong. Is remembering my birthday a precursor to sending a grandma a note? Obviously it is to me, because she hasn't heard from me in a long time. Then again, somehow we are attached through her prayers and tears...and her remembering my birthday has been exchanged with glorious things I will know nothing of until I reach heaven.

Speaking of prayer, sometimes pressure is the only thing that gets these things accompished with any form of intensity. I read my Bible and pray more when I'm about to lead worship. Or maybe the prayers just become more desperate at that time and thus seem to qualify more as real prayers.

What does it mean to qualify anyway? What qualifies as something in my mind is nothing to the Lord. And what qualifies as nothing to me is the very miracle of God when He takes that nothingness and creates life.

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer." (Ps. 19:14)

Just one day a year

As of this very moment
I'm the oldest I've ever been (insert melodramatic, wrinkly face here).

When I was young,
I used to hope for
the neglect
and
the forgetfulness
of friends and family
on my birthday.
Being forgotten
meant I had a free-ticket
to wade in the deep puddles of self pity.
Buck naked.
In winter.
In a one-treed windy forest of misfortune.

Like a fading dream
I can hardly remember
How odd
How immature
How...how...
I used to be.

A picture of the present
contains a slight maturity
like black hair dye
over steel grey hair
And as I consider
precious
drawings of Mickey Mouse
and sticker-covered cards
and heart-centred
cupcakes
and
phone calls
and
visits
I wouldn't trade it
for all the self-pity
in all the world.

It only took me 33 years to get here.

Unchained harmony

When did I stop being weird? When did life become so serious?

As I grew up, I remember the ways in which I desperately tried to look and act like everyone else did. I adopted tacky fads. Spoke stylish words. Poofed my hair with the highest of poofs. I was still me...somewhere. Whenever she would emerge, I would make sure to tell her how to talk and act in order to be noticed the least.

I bet it was then that I discovered there was little use for creativity.

Perhaps that's why there is nothing scarier to me than the thought of a blank canvas. The blank canvas symbolizes to me all the ways in which I blend in. Blank is good...right? To take that first step, the first stroke, to deliberately not choose white, to exercise the first bold tickle of PINK means that I am no longer just white anymore. I have taken on weirdness at the risk of standing out.

What happens next could be...gasp...or could not be...great.

I look back on that part of my life with wonder...What would I have become if, instead of hiding who I was, I expressed myself without reservation. Well, I can't change the past. So that leaves only one time zone to change...gulp.

God created me to be...different. And you...to be different from me. But in His perfect plan, we live peacefully together. Why didn't I see it?

Today I realize the profoundness of a blank canvas on my heart. And I long to color and play, whimsical and peculiar. Colorful. Escaping. Refreshing. Splash. Weird.

If I were totally free...free to be as weird as God made me...what would change about my canvas?

I think I would dress differently. Without looking around to make sure I'm still in style. Maybe I'd shower less. Dance and scream when it is not expected. Explore more. Control less. Play like it wasn't a waste of time. Nap when exhaustion hits instead of pushing through it.

Proverbs 6:5 "Free yourself, like a gazelle from the hand of the hunter, like a bird from the snare of the fowler."

Eat more

We are all hungry for something. The thing is, nothing in this world can satisfy my crazy appetite. My thought for the day is, How do we realize that our dissatisfaction is a gift from God? When we try to fill that insatiable hole that cannot be filled with the things around us...it is then that we realize there's got to be more.

Chocolate. I've learned that one first hand. Oh, I'll just have a little piece, I lie to myself. Not only do I not only have just one piece, but even two pieces don't satisfy...The guilt doesn't kick in until later when I realize that even when I eat without reservations, I am still not satisfied.

Matt. 5:6 "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled."

People. We are all fallible. When place our trust in a human being, we will be disappointed. When I go to people first for their advice and affirmation when I should be seeking God and depending on Him leaves me feeling like no one understands me. But that's because there's only One who does...

Prov. 3:5-6 "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and

lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge him,

and he will make your paths straight"

Things. I have a pair of black shoes that, sure, they were cute in their day. But when I wear them, I compare them...and frankly, they are not in style anymore. Does this cause me discomfort? Why? It doesn't change who I am inside. Do I really need a new pair of shoes...? Wasting my energy on feeling strange that I don't meet the current social standard is not helpful.

Phil. 4:19 "And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus."

So have I realized yet that there is only one source for everything I need. And when I'm needy for more, He actually gives it freely. More hope? If I'm hoping in Him, I won't be disappointed. More love? He's gives it without measure. More blessing? He wants to bless me more than I will ever realize. More understanding? He knows me better than I know myself.

When I ask Him, He fills. But when I think what I really want is chocolate and I'm not asking Him to fill my soul's cravings, I am left empty.

Can it really be so simple? I think so. Only the truth can set us free. If we're bogged down, it's because we have not fully realized the truth.

I don't get how easy it is to see these words on paper but how difficult they are to actually do. What is He saying to me today? What am I craving?

Rom. 4:17 "...God ...gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were."