SPRINT

I was reborn a sprinter. Out of the gates running, I did not anticipate the first bend, and I smashed into the side pretty bad. I shook myself back up, and kept sprinting. I did not anticipate the bumps, roots, holes, and other obstacles. In full sprint, I took my eyes off the road and went thud into walls, face planted dirt, and taxed my body physically, spiritually, emotionally, and I kept sprinting. I did not really go the training wheels route, decked out with helmet, knee pads, and wrist guards. I chose the crotch-rocket blazing down the highway at 130 mph (never bothered learning whether or not the thing had breaks). I forgot to watch where I was going sometimes, but I never forgot where I was headed: all out toward Jesus.

So, you see, my lifestyle is dangerous, reckless, and quite painful really. Most certainly foolishness by many standards… I’m fine by that. No doubt when I crash, it is no fender bender— but I’m relying on God-strength, so why slow down?

By God’s great grace, I am still spiritually alive and fervent for Christ! Somehow, He has even improved my style of sprinting. It’s not that it’s safer; I’m still a blind man running in many ways. The difference is that very occasionally I’ll be listening enough to hear God whisper, there’s a hole, jump…Now! I still have to jump, and I never really see the hole. In fact, I only ever really see holes once I’ve already fallen into them. But perhaps that’s why I am able to listen now. And maybe, that’s why I’m willing to listen a bit harder. Because it is true, those crashes are brutal. It is no matter though, they are not slowing down my sprint. I will just listen really hard, and keep on keepin’ on. I am sprinting home!

Remember crucifying Christ?

A year ago I cried. I did not just cry, I wept, and I helplessly wailed for hours. I could not cope with the unfathomable amount of pain and suffering in the world (I will not list them, you will not have to look hard to discover there are too many). For about a week I was depressed. The tragedy of my state wasn't that I doubted in Jesus. I believed in my salvation, but too many people didn't have it, and their suffering seemed in vain. They did not know Jesus, and no matter what effort I put forth, I could not save the world. Then something happened. In my misery I saw Jesus, and He was crying too. He was suffering, bearing the pain caused by every sin. I remembered that I too was a sinner, and that I contributed to the suffering of Jesus. I was just another sinner standing in the crowd mocking Him up on the cross—and yet, He still loved me, He still saved me.


I Scorned

My soul hides in my wincing guts
from the hourglass of the heartbeat.
My eyes taunt His defeated droop
like the caw of a black crow.
My wrists tingle at the—
tedious teething of my abuse
leading Him to the cross.
Hail the King of the Jews, I said,
and I spit on Him.

The Son mourns
weeping willows into the ground,
and bleeds the soaking bank into form,
and offers refuge.
And the torrent of tormenting death drains,
deaf to the cry of God’s plea.

In His forsaken thirst
He breathed His last.

Claret

Hey guys. So this poem is rather deep. I hope it provokes some thought. I realize that it's not quite a feel good poem, but somehow, in this broken world, it is.

Claret

The words I wish I had spoken, and the glassy
bay I frequently create in hindsight
will never be. I cannot replace
what is true: the slack-tide of my spirit
siphoning into stagnant pools
somewhere—more like everywhere.

The salivation
of Bleakness drips down on everything, smearing
from memory the vibrancy of life. My tears,
the blood of my soul, hit the ground uncaught.
They die, pearls thrown to pigs, or perhaps
just pigs thrown into the sea.

Who’s throwing anyways? Looks like Jesus
or demons again. Someone who called me Legion
or Peter or both. Imagine what he felt: holy blood,
clogging up those worldly veins.
It’s a wonder that the love of a father
or God would place such a pure spirit in wretch’s skin.
We sealed it alright—nailed him to our death.

Homesick

Sometimes I get homesick.

I cannot forget that I am a stranger, an alien in this world. Even Christian relationships cannot measure up to how things should be. We have so many expectations for each other in our brokenness. We box people in with our preconceptions, and we have set limits on the grace we are willing to give. Why do we trap ourselves and each other? Have we forgotten our first Love? Think of Christ, the one worthy example. He had grace enough to forgive the sins of the world. How can we hold anything against each other? Where is the overflow of the spirit, the unconditional—UNCONDITIONAL Love? That is, Love that does not take into account circumstance or situation or person, Love that cannot count faults or shortcomings or failures. It is Love that is literally OUT OF THIS WORLD. It’s the Love of the Kingdom of God. We need to do away with all our expectations for this world, and for the things in this world. Nothing here can satisfy us. Everything here will fall short.

Our citizenship is in heaven! We DO NOT have an enduring city here, but we are looking for the city that is to come! Every time disappointment hits us, we need to remember that we are strangers. We need to strive for the love that is out of this world. Worldly love’s got nothing on that Kingdom love. Don’t let our spirits droop because we sometimes feel homesick. Let us rejoice and overflow, because our home is that good!

Starving Sin to Death! Now THAT'S What I'm Talking About!

Christ Starved Sin to Death

I force the sleep to sit down,
it’s always begging me— and I’m tired
of listening to my body.
The sun will be up soon
anyways; my mind is quite far from rest
these days.

The contradiction of rage hides
inside of my temple: the sin caving in on the Spirit’s
full sprint. But my flesh has me trapped,
it laughs at my poverty: my limp,
passive will, and the bondage of my uncertainty. Flesh,
you might reap from my shortcomings now—
but don’t forget

how Jesus Christ starved you out.
Jesus Christ starved you out—And somehow,
Jesus Christ is carving you out
of me.

And that’s for eternity.

James Harper! This is your first challenge: here are your lyrics (sorry, not really a worship styled song)

(Any Title suggestions?)

I walked into my house
and the couches were empty,
leather recliners left back
next to a stale cup of coffee.
My dinner table wasn’t full,
and the food was more than plenty.
I washed a few noodles down the drain.

Maybe they’ll travel through the pipes
and leak out onto the street.
Maybe someone will eat there
with my waste at their feet.
And maybe I need not worry
about the world—broken down around me.

Oh Lord, I see it now.
Won’t you change me somehow?
Help me find that someone
and serve them in my house.
I’ll give them my favorite seat
on your recliner leather couch.
I’ll prepare them a feast
instead of my neglected leftovers.

And if even one noodle remains—
help me bring home more of the poor.

One Line

"Each day a child under the age of seven is abandoned in Moldova."

Oh, Great Love!

I’ve contemplated bitterly long the task of mustering something of nothing. All along I have known that I am something. Even if it be true that I am something terrible, or something miniscule in comparison to something else, I assuredly am something. Who can deny it? The very thought that I am something proves, at the very least, that I am something other than nothing. In speculation, I also had to accept that I was something that came from something else. This undeniable truth is repeated throughout nature. No matter where you look, you will see something coming from something else, but nowhere will you see something of nothing.

I’ve been aware of this mystery ever since I was young. I knew that it must be possible for something to come out of nothing, or else something would never be. The world would be nothing, and if this was true, the world simply could not be. I tested my theory by trying to make something out of nothing. I flexed my eyes and strained my brain. With incredible focus, with all might and concentration, I spent my mind entirely on the hope of making something out of nothing. Alas! My effort was in vain, something of nothing never came.

Oh, Great Love!

The voice of a Spirit,
the strength with no frame,
is the power that made
what cannot be contained.
And the voice, the strength,
and the power displayed, entirely aware
of the risk and the pain,
is the working hand of Great Love.

Great Love made the bed
of celestial heights,
full of stars extending
beyond endless sight.

Great Love shaped the earth,
and so lavished it lush,
in the depth of each leaf,
in the water’s sweet rush.

Great Love sowed the breath
all His creatures reap
in the air of the sky
and the leagues of the deep.

From the heart of the worm
to the creation of man,
to the depths of a Soul— Oh, Great Love!
From nothing, you’ve made Love,
Love with no end.

God's will or Our will?

Christians will agree that God is good. However, I think if you asked a bunch of Christians why God is good, you would get varying answers, especially if you were looking for some sort of justification. Forget the answers though, let’s look at the questions we all have. If God, our creator, is good, doesn’t he want us to be a part of his goodness? Can we really be a part of God’s goodness if we deny everything about ourselves? Jesus made it pretty clear that we have to lose our lives to save them, but why? Is every desire and longing of ours evil? This cannot possibly be true if God is good, for wasn’t it our very selves that longed for God, and still longs for Him now? Perhaps it is our spirit that longs for God, but if this is the case, then how can we follow God? How can we separate the longings of our flesh from the longings of our God given spirit?

This dilemma complicates itself further when we drag in the topic of pleasure, or to use a less suggestive word, enjoyment. If God is good, he most definitely is the creator of our own positive experiences, feelings, and relationships in the world. To suggest that pleasure (or enjoyment) is evil is to slap God in the face! Can we really deny ourselves and all our desires without denying God Himself? At some point, isn’t denying oneself equivalent to denying the desire to do God’s will? God promises great joy in following His will, but surely this does not translate to mean that everything that is joyful or feels good to experience is automatically a part of His will.

I suppose we can quite easily remedy this problem by simply denying every part of ourselves unless we have full confidence that we are aligned with God’s will. But then what do we do when God has made no clear revelation of His will regarding any particular topic? Are we free to do anything so long as it doesn’t prevent or hinder us from doing the bit of God’s will that he has made known?

I think I have found my peace, though I imagine the reader will be lost by this jump, but I am really writing for myself. Incredibly, God has instilled in me (and I believe in you as well) an answer that satisfies the struggle that I have been trying to develop in these past few paragraphs. The truth is this: God has let some part of His will be known to us! No matter how small or broad, God has put opportunities before us to work for Him. When we are responsible in pursuing and following what He has put before us, he will give us more responsibility, more direction, and more revelation.

We seem to have a tendency to want to know ALL of God’s plans for our lives before we carry out the ones he has clearly placed before us. Why? Probably because we still have our OWN plans in mind, and we’re hoping they match the plans God has chosen not to reveal to us.

The devil knows how to use our own desires against us quite well. He knows that if we are committed to pursuing God’s will, he needs to deceive us into thinking our selfish desires are a part of God’s will. He knows he needs to confuse us, disorient us from our certainty in following God, and get us doubting the plans that God has chosen to NOT FULLY reveal to us. The devil knows that he has to get us justifying our own desires as being “not outside” the will of God. He is quite the deceiver, and has proved beyond capable of such deceptive acts.

Is this really an answer to the tension that exists between our will and the will of God? Partially. The ambiguity still exists. It is still hard to trust God’s plans when we can much more easily create our own and see the end they come to. Perhaps denying ourselves (beyond denying the obvious sins) is no more than denying ourselves the right to decide what will become of our lives. This is different than denying our every desire. Rather, it is putting our desires into God’s hands, and letting Him DO WHAT HE WILLS with them, always trusting that his judgment on such matters is much better than our own, and his power to make things happen is much stronger than our own. We do not need to be the initiators in these difficult situations: when God’s will is unclear. We can let God be the initiator, always trusting Him for the best.

Listen to Him, be patient, don't force things. God won't leave you hanging. If you don't trust me on this one, Trust Him.

Conclusion: to obey is better than sacrifice. Complete denial of self is not what God created us for. He created us to experience relationship with Him. In this fallen world, that means reversing the first sin, and trusting God over ourselves for what’s best. When we do this, we can recognize every good thing as God given, we can see hope in every hardship, and we can rejoice in all situations, for we are fulfilling the very purpose we have been created for: to be in relationship with God.

Rain is Deep

The bodies fall like drops of rain. We’ll block the pelts with an umbrella, sometimes covering the head of a neighbor or friend, but not very concerned about stopping the drops from falling. Of course, it is a ridiculous thing to strive for, that is, saving drops of rain from falling from the sky. There are so many, and no amount of effort would ever suffice. And really, what is the point?

Isn’t it the same with people then? There are countless falling, most of whom go unseen by little old me. Even when I hold out my hands, they slide around my palms, hang from my knuckles— grow heavy, and drip off to the ground.

And there is something very soothing about sitting beneath the tree and staying dry, knowing I am safe as the members of the sky splatter the ground. There is an awful bunch of life in one drop though. Have you ever seen the rock-bottom force, how the collision annihilates
every
single
drop?

I imagine there are some who have opted not to stay dry. The drops will soak into their clothes, their hair, and even the pores of their skin, and wonder who sent their savior.

And they say that if you run you hit more drops.