Compulaion


I am an ox in an open field. The yoke upon my neck is made from things I have never seen.  

It was placed there in the night without my consent or desire.  

I am compelled by joy to pull.  


The smell of success is in the air.  

It is the harvest soon to come.  

It is the smell of grass and trees.  

It is the dirt beneath my hooves.  

So I pull with joyous vigor!


The strength of my bones is beyond words to say.  

It is more than an Ox should have.  

For there is no whip to urge me on.  

There is no carrot before my face.  

It is the sound of his voice that drives me forward.  


Lovely,

Soft,

Tender,

More sure of his way than the hardest of steel.  

“Pull”,

He whispers. 

AND PULL I WILL!

What is Forgiveness


Lord Jesus, Holy Father:

That you should be willing to forgive our sins as we forgive others. Such an awesome mountain of failings blown away by a breath from your nostrils. And all we have to do is humbly ask you and receive. Living out a life of thanks in the valley of penetrating knives. Just as you showed us should be done.  


What incredible power to overcome that is; eternally beyond our words to describe. Not only does someone love us, but the very creator of all things!


Spoken at your birth sustained by your righteousness forever: “Peace has come to earth, and goodwill to all men” (paraphrase).


Billions thank you. Recognizing that we can’t thank you enough. And even while we thank you, doesn’t the next failing prepare.    


By your display and patience you are astounding! Ceaseless and endlessly powerful is the love of God for all who call on his Holy name.  

Dooless?


​All the world wants to avoid sorrow.  They smack down poverty of every kind, as often as they possibly can; material things, financially, social, and poverty of the soul.  Yeah, they go after poverty with a vengeance.
But in my life I’ve noticed something interesting.  When I had things, and life seemed to go well, I tried to rest there.  “This is good enough”, I thought to myself.  I figured I could easily live this way all the rest of my life.  But sorrow came back.  The joy of peaceful stability was ruined.
Sorrow is a friend, it is not an enemy.  It does not come to destroy, it comes to teach.  Look how Innovative we become after a serious bout of sorrow.
Humanity is like a poor student in school.  No matter what needs to be learned there’s always resistance.  Humility and wisdom is the key.  They both force us to realize we don’t understand hardly anything.
Has your life been a series of sorrowful exploits?  Did you find that you just gave up?  I did.  I became innovative with the mud of my own mire.  I didn’t think it would ever stop.  
I have to say it was Jesus who transformed me.  His interaction with me through the last decade  would take volumes to write.  But I can summarize how he did it.  
He taught me how to make the bed in the morning.  He taught me how to do the dishes when I was done eating.  He taught me that when I see something needing picked up or done, do it.  He lifted me out of my mud pit by teaching me to be dutiful not dooless.
I still face sorrow.  It comes to visit nearly every day.  But I no longer look at it as an enemy.  It is filled with the lessons my teacher desires me to learn.  Prosperity is only an honest prayer away.

The Great Expectation


Waiting for the baby;
The baby yet unborn.
The nursery,
White and glistening,
The future place of home.

Expectant siblings pace about,
Doing all they know to do.
Arms aching,
Ready,
Reaching out,
To embrace the likes of you.

Emerging like your brothers,
With joy,
You’re ushered in!
To spend forever
Dressed in white,
And loving none but him.

(For the children of the Lord)

Storm


I sat in a darkened corner of the bar.  All alone and stupefied by the things I’ve seen.  Nursing my fourth drink, my mind was nearing numbness.   Ah, that familiar and welcome place.

My eyes were obliviously staring toward the front door.  The door opened and the shadow of a ragged man filled its frame.  “Ah, something to watch”, I thought to myself.

He walked straight to my table, and just stood there.  It takes a little longer for a fuzzy brain to process information.  Eventually I stop staring.  The blurry figure took focus.  Since he appeared to be in no hurry, and nowhere to go, I let a moment pass before I offered him a chair.  With lazy movements he sat down.  So the tone was set, an easy-going lazy, easy conversation.

He put his arms on the table, not taking his eyes from mine.  With an Indescribably steady voice he said, “What are you doing here”.  I told him I was drinking to numb the pain of life.

“Do you know why it hurts?”  Kind of a curious question.  It made me reach a little deeper than the surface.  I told him no.  “I really don’t have the slightest clue.”  But he didn’t offer anything more.  No answers, no reflections, no Nothin.  So we sat there in silence for a few minutes.

I was the one to break the silence.  “It’s like I live in a hurricane.  Everything I do, everything I am, everything I say, gets blown away and tore to pieces.  And I can’t seem to find shelter.  So I come in here to numb the pain of being tossed against the wall.”

He looked down thoughtfully.  It didn’t look like he had anything to say.  It seemed he was just waiting for my mind to listen to his words.  Like getting used to silence just before the Big Bang.  He started speaking before his eyes began to rise.

“Life is a storm from birth to death.  Most people prefer the depths of a cave.  But there are some who dare to wander about.  These are better fed.  These are far stronger and more able.  Frankly, these are more useful.”

He had set the tone so, again, I followed what he did.  I lowered my head and watched the top of the table stay still.  I thought about what he said.  I thought about how odd it was that he opened the door and came to my table to say these things.  I thought about the storm of my life.  Then I thought about my weakness; how he came to me in my cave.

“If this is the storm that comes into my cave to batter me against the wall, what is it like outside?”  I was sincerely curious about these strong people.

He didn’t pause this time.  “Outside is death.  What is it like inside?”  It seems like my answer came from somebody I didn’t know.  But I was sure it was my own lips that said this, “It’s useless, it’s mundane, it’s tedious, it’s insane.  In short and in truth, it’s a slow painful death.  But somehow it seems equitable, to be distant from the rest.”  (A poem?  Really!)

Now the conversation took a bit of a faster pace.  Without the slightest hesitation he shot back, “Do you want to work?”  I really don’t know how, but I understood what he meant.  My stomach convulsed and made me say, “Yes”.  (Alright, I thought, we’re having a conversation, and I’m really weirdly involved.)  “Then go outside and die with me.”

I know my eyes got wide.  I could feel it in my soul.  Could this man be the answer?  There wasn’t a shred of apology in his voice.

“No one has ever stayed with me.  How do I know you won’t take me outside and abandoned me in a worse place than this?”  His reply shut my mouth.  “Because I said so, and I cannot lie.”

Why should I believe him?  But look how strong my want-to is.  I looked down and thought again.  What’s the difference?  Die in here or die out there, what’s the difference?  Then I knew what to say.  Then I knew what to do.  I didn’t say anything.  I simply got up and put my coat on.  Within a few moments we were silhouetted against those in the cave.  We left.

I’m writing this, aren’t I.  Yes I’m still alive.  I have weathered the most magnificent storm my mind could possibly imagine.  He has never left me.  He has guided every step I took.  He has healed my wounds.  He has taught me how to fight.  He has encouraged me to take risks that men in their caves don’t even know exist.  And there ain’t no way I’m going back!

By the way.  His name is Jesus.

Evidence of Belonging


How should we spend our days?  Doesn’t it depend on whose you intend to be.

Let’s make a choice with finality.  Either Christianity is a mere religion, or it is the power of God to transform.  Either the words of God are benign “good sayings”, or they are filled with Holy Fire.  The life we lead proves the choice we’ve made.

Heaven rages with eternal love toward Man.  Blazing with holy duty, all of Heaven is busy in the preparing of the sons of God.  Construction of the age to come includes the preparation of those who will inhabit it.

Those who join in this holy frenzy will enter beyond this place with little change in their character.  Having a allowed God to create within them, they are fast becoming a welcome addition to the throne of Christ Jesus.

Such people have no room for trivia.  Such people do not hide in the shadows.  Though they are compelled to use the things of this world, they do not rise every morning to satiate the desires of the flesh.  Like sunflowers, they seek the will of the Living God to grow within them; always tracing the Son across every day’s sky. 

On rising they call out to His Holy name in Jesus.  Without thought, the eyes of their soul look to him in every decision they make.  They will be welcome, for the work of God within them provides what is required.

Give thought to this.  Eternity is now.  Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for He who is Righteous, for they shall be filled!