Tonight as I watched and listened to a public speaker talk about the universe, I realized how small I am.
I know. Cliché right?
Nah. I'm just being serious.
He was playing a slideshow displaying pictures that certain space crafts have taken that were further and further out in Space, and the last picture he showed was a picture of Jesus,... on a cross. He was covered in bloody wounds and had that horrific crown of thorns stuck into his head. The speaker said that that place is further out than we will ever be able to imagine.
Heaven is far up there beyond the hope of reaching without Him.
An idea came to me as I was looking at that picture of my Father and I think it would be a neat to write a poem about the cross. Something along the lines of a small creation sprouting out of the ground: the sapling...How is grows and watches everything change around it and how then it is cut down and made into a cross and then has Jesus' wrists and ankles nailed into it.
I wish I had a designated writing place. I believe that if you are in a beautiful spot or peaceful area, it can be a nice place to write. However, in my home, I don't have an area like that (maybe I just haven't found it yet). Even if it was simply a writing desk I think I would consider that a nice area because it would be a place dedicated only to write.
Why do I have a blog?
I treat it as a journal, but I have a journal...I'll type whatever on this and then later have nothing to say for my journal. I write more personal things in journals though... I don't. I restrict a lot of what I could say on here mainly because this is a public blog. If I need to say a prayer, I am 95% more liable to make a bee-line for my journal. However, I like blogging too much. I'm almost thinking about making another one completed dedicated to poetry and other writing.
Blogging=Journal
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Midnight Prayer
It's almost 11pm and my mind is whirling. Why can't I just fall asleep? Why aren't I tired? Why is it, that whenever I sit down and try to write, my mind then halts? Oi.
I guess I can never circulate around one topic to write about because another idle thought gallavants into my head whisking me away into another idea. I literally have ten poems started and unfinished. Isn't that sad? Some writer I am.
Whenever I do finish writing something though, it's instant joy. I praise Him for giving me the ability to write and for helping me through it, because my mind is never clear without Him.
Is that my clue then? Am I leaving something out this time? Or someone? It is hard for me to give up my freetime and instead picking up the Bible or, at times, even praying. God has been knocking on my door, and I have consistently been hiding in the backroom room waiting for Him to get bored and go away.
God is wanting more out of me and He isn't getting it. So, therefore, my mind is befogged with confusion and contradiction.
Lord, please help me realize what You want of me. Pull me away from my rathers and desires, and set me on my feet in the place you've solidly laid out for me. I pray that I make You happy and not to feed my own selfishness. Amen.
I guess I can never circulate around one topic to write about because another idle thought gallavants into my head whisking me away into another idea. I literally have ten poems started and unfinished. Isn't that sad? Some writer I am.
Whenever I do finish writing something though, it's instant joy. I praise Him for giving me the ability to write and for helping me through it, because my mind is never clear without Him.
Is that my clue then? Am I leaving something out this time? Or someone? It is hard for me to give up my freetime and instead picking up the Bible or, at times, even praying. God has been knocking on my door, and I have consistently been hiding in the backroom room waiting for Him to get bored and go away.
God is wanting more out of me and He isn't getting it. So, therefore, my mind is befogged with confusion and contradiction.
Lord, please help me realize what You want of me. Pull me away from my rathers and desires, and set me on my feet in the place you've solidly laid out for me. I pray that I make You happy and not to feed my own selfishness. Amen.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Operation Homeless
What is your first initial, internal thought when you read Operation Homeless?
I think of a plan. A thought out, pre-arranged, detailed design.
She got the job. Maybe not the one she had particularly favored, but after having an interview with her new boss, she was ecstatic. She and her mom celebrated and decided to go to Starbucks especially for this moment.
As they shifted into park, she noticed a homeless man sitting right outside of the coffee shop. The clothes he wore were much too big for him and were very dirty. His soleless shoes were ripped and seemed uncomfortable to walk around in all day. He had two bags of which, assumingly, consisted of items that he collected and probably kept him alive. He had a scraggly, grey beard and was certainly unclean. His eyes were beautiful. A mute turqoise blended with a caribbean blue. They were striking against his rugged and weathered features. How unique.
He was a sight to behold. She immediately felt compassion and almost wished she could have sat with him and given him all new clothes and a meal. This was a man who had no job, no home, and hardly clothes she'd call fit for this type of weather. Just knowing that she had only gotten hired for a job not even 30 minutes prior, and that she was walking into a store to buy herself warm coffee made her sick to the stomach.
They entered an atmosphere with so many strong aromas enriching the slight draft, her eyes wandered over at the pastries, the flavors of coffee written in chalk, and the abundant bags of ground beans displayed all around.
Then, almost casually, a whisper with the power of a shout spoke to her:
You should buy him a cup of warm coffee.
She clung to that idea. An optimistic, smiling barista welcomed her to the counter. She ordered three drinks.
One for her mother.
One for herself.
One for him.
While the concoctions were being poured, shaken, and mixed with many flavorful shots, she frequently peered out of the windows to keep herself certain that he was still out there.
Two of the drinks were handed to them; however both were their own. His drink was still not served yet. She peeked one more time, unaware that that was going to be the last time she saw him.
Finally. His drink was given to them.
They walked outside in complete disbelief: he was nowhere.
In the amount of time between when she'd last looked at him and when they walked outside, it would have been a truly amazing thing for him to have gotten far by walking.
They circled the building, walked around the whole parking lot, but found no one. They climbed into their truck and drove all around, but came to a stalemate.
He had vanished and was gone.
Then at once, another whisper entered her mind:
That was Me.
Matthew 25:31-40
When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
I think of a plan. A thought out, pre-arranged, detailed design.
She got the job. Maybe not the one she had particularly favored, but after having an interview with her new boss, she was ecstatic. She and her mom celebrated and decided to go to Starbucks especially for this moment.
As they shifted into park, she noticed a homeless man sitting right outside of the coffee shop. The clothes he wore were much too big for him and were very dirty. His soleless shoes were ripped and seemed uncomfortable to walk around in all day. He had two bags of which, assumingly, consisted of items that he collected and probably kept him alive. He had a scraggly, grey beard and was certainly unclean. His eyes were beautiful. A mute turqoise blended with a caribbean blue. They were striking against his rugged and weathered features. How unique.
He was a sight to behold. She immediately felt compassion and almost wished she could have sat with him and given him all new clothes and a meal. This was a man who had no job, no home, and hardly clothes she'd call fit for this type of weather. Just knowing that she had only gotten hired for a job not even 30 minutes prior, and that she was walking into a store to buy herself warm coffee made her sick to the stomach.
They entered an atmosphere with so many strong aromas enriching the slight draft, her eyes wandered over at the pastries, the flavors of coffee written in chalk, and the abundant bags of ground beans displayed all around.
Then, almost casually, a whisper with the power of a shout spoke to her:
You should buy him a cup of warm coffee.
She clung to that idea. An optimistic, smiling barista welcomed her to the counter. She ordered three drinks.
One for her mother.
One for herself.
One for him.
While the concoctions were being poured, shaken, and mixed with many flavorful shots, she frequently peered out of the windows to keep herself certain that he was still out there.
Two of the drinks were handed to them; however both were their own. His drink was still not served yet. She peeked one more time, unaware that that was going to be the last time she saw him.
Finally. His drink was given to them.
They walked outside in complete disbelief: he was nowhere.
In the amount of time between when she'd last looked at him and when they walked outside, it would have been a truly amazing thing for him to have gotten far by walking.
They circled the building, walked around the whole parking lot, but found no one. They climbed into their truck and drove all around, but came to a stalemate.
He had vanished and was gone.
Then at once, another whisper entered her mind:
That was Me.
Matthew 25:31-40
When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Starfish Analogies
I think a couple of my favorite things are analogies and metaphors. Whenever I read them in poetry or the Bible, I utterly think myself "Wow...that is just brilliant." I very much admire good poets and their natural brilliance. Sometimes the things they come up with can make me wonder why hadn't I thought of that and other things, I just stare at the stanza like a zombie and think how on Earth could have anybody have thought of that? So it goes both ways.
A couple days ago I was reading what a central disk is, and you may not like Biology fun facts, but here it's coming:
the central portion of a starfish; the arms of a starfish radiate from the central disk.
Now... Are you thinking what I'm thinking? If not, don't feel bad. It's hard to tell what people think unless you are their twin or unless you've invented something that helps you read the minds of people.
The latter is unlikely.
But, what I received from that definition was that Christians are like starfish. How? Read that definition one more time and you will know what I'm thinking without having to get out your mind-reading contraption.
What if our arms, like a starfish, radiated from our center portion? Our heart. The love God has placed within our hearts. I think we all should take a trip to an aquarium and observe starfish. I think we need to open our arms to those around us and in turn, Jesus will shelter us in arms of Love.
Exodus 17:10-13 Moses stood on the hill above and as long as he raised the staff of God in his hands above his head, Joshua and the Israelites were winning. When Moses grew tired and dropped his hands, the enemy would win.
I like that verse for this particular analogy/metaphor because where it says "...and dropped his hands, the enemy would win.", I think it's God telling us to continue to reach out, wrap around, offer, lend, and catch with our arms and hands, and also to just occasionally raise them up toward Him. If we don't, the enemy will win. We need to love, serve, and spread with what God has given us.
If God wanted us to serve, He would have given us hands.
Acts 19:11 And God was doing extraodrinary mircales by the hands of Paul,
A couple days ago I was reading what a central disk is, and you may not like Biology fun facts, but here it's coming:
the central portion of a starfish; the arms of a starfish radiate from the central disk.
Now... Are you thinking what I'm thinking? If not, don't feel bad. It's hard to tell what people think unless you are their twin or unless you've invented something that helps you read the minds of people.
The latter is unlikely.
But, what I received from that definition was that Christians are like starfish. How? Read that definition one more time and you will know what I'm thinking without having to get out your mind-reading contraption.
What if our arms, like a starfish, radiated from our center portion? Our heart. The love God has placed within our hearts. I think we all should take a trip to an aquarium and observe starfish. I think we need to open our arms to those around us and in turn, Jesus will shelter us in arms of Love.
Exodus 17:10-13 Moses stood on the hill above and as long as he raised the staff of God in his hands above his head, Joshua and the Israelites were winning. When Moses grew tired and dropped his hands, the enemy would win.
I like that verse for this particular analogy/metaphor because where it says "...and dropped his hands, the enemy would win.", I think it's God telling us to continue to reach out, wrap around, offer, lend, and catch with our arms and hands, and also to just occasionally raise them up toward Him. If we don't, the enemy will win. We need to love, serve, and spread with what God has given us.
If God wanted us to serve, He would have given us hands.
Acts 19:11 And God was doing extraodrinary mircales by the hands of Paul,
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Coming Through the Mud
Here's a song that I feel coincides with my idea of a ship in the mud --> http://youtu.be/EfAhpX_wIBk
"Slowly I become one with the mud"
The rain kept pounding, and the mud kept spreading. It was supposed to be the dry season, yet it was worse than most rainy seasons. Still the Tobo people kept coming - slogging through the thick sludge - to hear the Bible teaching.
But the literal mud they were now wading through was nothing comapred to the spiritual mud they would also have to wrestle with as they listened to the NTM (New Tribes Missionaries) missionaries present the Bible. The Tobo people had followed several other religions and cults over the years. And jumbled up with centuries of animistic beliefs, it was now all blending together - like too many colros - into an ugly brown.
What was the truth?
Some Tobos had become so confused searching for it, they had given up all together and had decided to live however they pleased.
But at long last, hope was on the way.
Three hundred paris of mud-caked feet squeezed into or around the clearing at the center or the Tobo village. They sat on banana leaves, hardwoord plank pieces, or long, rough-hewn firewood logs - anything to keep them off the soupy ground.
Now they were hearing the message for themselves.
"In the beginning, God..."
Immediatley, mud began to rise in Tobo minds.
What? The Sovereign One meant His message for all people? So the white men have been keeping it from us! That's why we don't have all the secret riches like they do! These missionaries can't be trusted.
But I'll listen anyway to learn the secret too.
But the more they listened, the more surprised they became. This God was unlike any they had ever heard about before. He alone was all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-present everywhere at the same time.
After the lesson, a cluster of people surrounded the missionaries, pelting them with questions. After talking with the people and answering questions, it was evident that several understood and believed that Jesus, the promised Deliverer, had paid for their sins with His blood.
The muddy little band of Tobo people were white as snow.
"Slowly I become one with the mud"
The rain kept pounding, and the mud kept spreading. It was supposed to be the dry season, yet it was worse than most rainy seasons. Still the Tobo people kept coming - slogging through the thick sludge - to hear the Bible teaching.
But the literal mud they were now wading through was nothing comapred to the spiritual mud they would also have to wrestle with as they listened to the NTM (New Tribes Missionaries) missionaries present the Bible. The Tobo people had followed several other religions and cults over the years. And jumbled up with centuries of animistic beliefs, it was now all blending together - like too many colros - into an ugly brown.
What was the truth?
Some Tobos had become so confused searching for it, they had given up all together and had decided to live however they pleased.
But at long last, hope was on the way.
Three hundred paris of mud-caked feet squeezed into or around the clearing at the center or the Tobo village. They sat on banana leaves, hardwoord plank pieces, or long, rough-hewn firewood logs - anything to keep them off the soupy ground.
Now they were hearing the message for themselves.
"In the beginning, God..."
Immediatley, mud began to rise in Tobo minds.
What? The Sovereign One meant His message for all people? So the white men have been keeping it from us! That's why we don't have all the secret riches like they do! These missionaries can't be trusted.
But I'll listen anyway to learn the secret too.
But the more they listened, the more surprised they became. This God was unlike any they had ever heard about before. He alone was all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-present everywhere at the same time.
After the lesson, a cluster of people surrounded the missionaries, pelting them with questions. After talking with the people and answering questions, it was evident that several understood and believed that Jesus, the promised Deliverer, had paid for their sins with His blood.
The muddy little band of Tobo people were white as snow.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The Barren Fig Tree
Early in the morning, as He was returning to the city, He was hungry.
Seeing a lone fig tree by the road, He went up to it and found nothing on it except leaves. And He said to it,
"May no fruit ever come from you again!"
At once the tree withered.
When the desciples saw it, they were amazed and said, "How did the fig tree wither so quickly?"
Jesus answered them,
"I assure you: If you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you tell this mountain, 'Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,' it will be done. And if you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer."
Whenever I think of a tree, the default image that I think of is the word 'sentinel'. A sentinel is a metaphoric guard. Here's a definition I actually found that I can't get past! :
- to stand guard over something or a group of people.
I can't believe that! "to stand guard over...people"
Is God not our sentry?
I hadn't done any devotions today, but right now, as I only had to open it once, I found this passage in Matthew 21:18-22. I thought it was a wonderful message to end a day with.
Do you ever feel your faith is as withered as this fig tree?
Do you ever feel like a desciple, who knows Him and His power, but is still doubtful?
His desciples were amazed!
When have you ever felt truly amazed? Have you ever felt utterly humbled by the significance and awe of something that far exceeded your expectation? Has God truly amazed you? Has He brought you to your knees?
Don't resist to kneel before Him. Buckle your knees and listen to the solid thud when they hit the ground.
That's impact.
His impact.
Seeing a lone fig tree by the road, He went up to it and found nothing on it except leaves. And He said to it,
"May no fruit ever come from you again!"
At once the tree withered.
When the desciples saw it, they were amazed and said, "How did the fig tree wither so quickly?"
Jesus answered them,
"I assure you: If you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you tell this mountain, 'Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,' it will be done. And if you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer."
Whenever I think of a tree, the default image that I think of is the word 'sentinel'. A sentinel is a metaphoric guard. Here's a definition I actually found that I can't get past! :
- to stand guard over something or a group of people.
I can't believe that! "to stand guard over...people"
Is God not our sentry?
I hadn't done any devotions today, but right now, as I only had to open it once, I found this passage in Matthew 21:18-22. I thought it was a wonderful message to end a day with.
Do you ever feel your faith is as withered as this fig tree?
Do you ever feel like a desciple, who knows Him and His power, but is still doubtful?
His desciples were amazed!
When have you ever felt truly amazed? Have you ever felt utterly humbled by the significance and awe of something that far exceeded your expectation? Has God truly amazed you? Has He brought you to your knees?
Don't resist to kneel before Him. Buckle your knees and listen to the solid thud when they hit the ground.
That's impact.
His impact.
Things we are good at, and other things maybe not so much.
1 Peter 4:10-11
Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms. If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God. If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. I believe that one of the many points this verse conveys is that whatever spiritual gift we are given, God wants us to do it and not try to take on somebody else's. But God also does say "we can do all things in Christ who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)
So even if we don't think we're good at something or are afraid of screwing up, God empowers us and honors our will to serve him.
1 Cor 14:12 So it is with you. Since you are eager to have spiritual gifts, try to excel in gifts that build up the church. (He's encouraging you to become better at not only what He has gifted you with)
1 Tim 1: 6-7 This is why I remind you to fan into flames the spiritual gift God gave you when I laid my hands on you. For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.
Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms. If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God. If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. I believe that one of the many points this verse conveys is that whatever spiritual gift we are given, God wants us to do it and not try to take on somebody else's. But God also does say "we can do all things in Christ who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)
So even if we don't think we're good at something or are afraid of screwing up, God empowers us and honors our will to serve him.
1 Cor 14:12 So it is with you. Since you are eager to have spiritual gifts, try to excel in gifts that build up the church. (He's encouraging you to become better at not only what He has gifted you with)
1 Tim 1: 6-7 This is why I remind you to fan into flames the spiritual gift God gave you when I laid my hands on you. For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)