Wonderprints

It is truly no wonder that the God of the universe’s Isaiah 45 mantra is:
…none besides me; I am the Lord and there is no other…
What a God. Mid my (“training wheel fast”) restricted diet, I pant desperately for Him, & He subtly lets me know He is near. Gracious & merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast LOVE, my Lord leaves fingerprints: a bread-crumb trail for me to follow (into His arms).
Thank you, God, for the pre-class conversation when my friend of 2 years asks if I party, asks about my faith. (God hears my prayers, He wants to give me opportunities to share Him; to point up there! up there!)
Thank you, God, for the moon hanging, like an egg yolk against deep navy felt, low behind me that I barely caught a glimpse of in the rear-view. It said to me, He is here.
Thank you, God, for the dimple your fingerprints left on this sin-crashed world in the shape of that North star, once leading brothers & sisters towards the hope of free lives. (Let us never stop hoping in free lives!)
Thank you, God, that when Your Spirit prompts me to pray over one Pei Wei employee, & I OBEY, we are blessed & hugs are exchanged.
Thank you, God, for the breath-taking stillness of moonlight against an ice manna carpet, muffled snow sounds, and crisp air that paints my exhales stark before my face.

Thank you, God, for your sublime ((Southern)) seasons that remind us how imminent winter-death is, and how utterly essential it is that we find spring-LIFE by seeking You now.

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More Than a Brouhaha

All I want is Christ and to know that I belong to him.

Ever felt yourself spiraling away? You’re sad and disappointed even over the smallest thing and you start to hear yourself say negative things, and then lash out at your loved ones. Even if you don’t saying anything, know that you are answering the Devils onslaught with your silence. If you don’t speak back he has control. The lashing out is your heart’s plea for help. You have to acknowledge the daily unseen battle before you can don the full armor of God. The wily devil convinces many that there is no battle, and to those that do fight, he whispers: there is no hope for you. But God has told his children how to ask for help in the fight, and though it is often a painful process, his faithfulness abides.

I do not ask that you take them [my people] out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. ~Jesus, John 17 (emphasis mine)

Think of young people who run away from home, knapsack all packed. It’s a cry for someone to come get them. They need to know that they are worth fighting for, worth running after. They aren’t running towards anything, they’re just asking via their steady footsteps away from home: does anyone care?

What if Jesus had been silent before Satan and ignored the battle at hand? Instead of using Scripture, he could have just stood, counting the hours until he could eat again, and pretending that Satan wasn’t there in his presence.

Satan: “To you I will give all this authority and their glory [of the kingdoms of the earth]…If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.”

Jesus: “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve.” (Matt. 4:6-8)

Don’t marinate in your misery. Fight to hear the still, small voice that says: I will lead you back, You are my darling child…my heart yearns for you (Jeremiah 31:9, 20). It requires simply a tuned-in soul and the scriptures, from tip of Genesis to tail of Revelation. Those ancient words are our only weapon. All we can do is knock on the door of Heaven and demand our birthright now, by the blood of Jesus Christ.

He did not die only to be your savior. He died to be your Lord: the Lord of your waking up and lying down, the Lord of your hope and help. He is the Beloved who wants to shepherd you in green pastures and be your anchor in the oceanic conflicts of your soul.

The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it.~1 Thess. 5:24

We make him small when we ignore the battle. He fought for us, are we not willing to rouse our spirits for him? Are we unwilling to fight to know the Love that shed himself on the cross many dark nights ago?

He came for us when we wandered away like restless children, begging the starry sky for deliverance.

Do we desire Jesus? Do we know his voice?

I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me. ~Jesus, John 10:14

Have you agreed with the Devil? Has he whispered that the bed is more comfortable? That you don’t have a problem? That even though you’re not hungry it’s OKAY to return to the pantry over and over? That it is OKAY to relax in front of the TV…hour after hour? That since your future is secure you’re just along for the ride from here until death?

The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy.~John 10:10a

We must fight as though our lives depended on, we must endure the upheavals of battle and with blind trust follow the  Officer higher-up. Ignoring the spiritual combat is submitting again to the devil’s rule, which is death. Standing up, fighting to hear the voice of the Lord, waiting on him to deliver, those are all reflections of a heart seeking submission to the Spirit’s rule, which is life.

Like children, accept the hand that reaches out to help you, and believe him when he says…

I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly.~John 10:10b (emphasis mine)

Oh the joy that is in store when over the hills of idolatry and petty disbelief his love ushers me!

Fireside Tribe

In a dark lodge with wood paneling like chocolate/vanilla swirled ice cream, and cool stone walls, seven women sat facing a fire. The fire was burning inside a stone nook, slightly below floor level, naked. The grate had been moved aside. Big logs whose bark was cut into black and white square patterns by ash periodically shifted, popped, and crackled.The women were gathered before the fire like chocolate chips that have fallen to the bottom of a muffin. Four sat in a row on the brown leather couch, puppies lined up in the cradle of their mother’s shape. Two sat perched on chairs, staring into the dancing flames, enshrouded in fleece blankets of blue and white.

In the corner next to the fire, as if at the helm of a six-man ship, sat the eldest. A rustic woman with silky hair pulled back to the top of her head, held there by one band of rubber, durable and tight like faith after a long hospital stay. The firelight illuminated her perfect hairline, reflected off her earlobes. Athletic pants were tucked into the top of duck boots, and she sat leaning forward. Her eyes were wide, horrified by the weights still balancing on the backs of her young crew members. Suddenly she stood.

“Alright,” she said. She threw three small packages of Kleenex at the women on the couch. She flicked off the overhead light. “This is what we’re gonna do.”

The girls stared up at her, lips ajar. Firelight now reflected off the moisture in their eyes. One fingered the package of tissues, sealing and unsealing the round sticker at the lip of the envelope. The standing woman continued:

“Get a piece of paper and write down your sins. All that junk you have been hangin’ on to. Your parents sins, your sins. Write it all down and we’re gonna burn it. You owe it to the world to accept healin’. God has forgotten those sins you keep bringin’ up. He is ready for you to move on.” She stomped out of the front door, letting in a chilly fall draft.

In a moment, pens were down, flying across torn pages held close to dimly lit faces. Two of the girls looked up, peeking (with marked hesitation), towards the woman who wrestled large chunks of wood outside.

She returned, bold captain for the day, and placed wood on the fire. The only energy emitted besides the Joules eking from flames were in the music notes gently playing:

Boldly I approach your throne, blameless now I’m runnin’ home…

The indention in the stone floor became an altar. The blaze a throne. The wood their unburning God, ready to speak through flames of his creation and control.

One by one each woman folded her piece of college ruled paper corner to corner and knelt before the flames. The orange tendrils kissed their bundled knees, heated the concrete under their feet. Each one offered silent pleas: “Let me live free from the burden of these sins,” “Let me be done with this yoke.” And before each piece of paper curled up and disintegrated into dark ash, bright light shone from the brittle kindling of penned sin. The brilliant glow shot up the wall above the temporary altar, then disappeared. Each woman sat where she had been before, sniffling, grabbing hand of co-heir wedged on couch beside her.


May that be our sin: placed without hesitation into the fire of God’s love. Then may we watch delighted as that burning bush turns it into a bright light warding off the world’s deep darkness.

Water Me

“…Wherever the Spirit would go, they went without turning as they went.” Ezekiel 1:12b

I plot my wicked course. I scout a way past the protective barriers that love has surrounded me with. I giggle in the face of goodness; spit at the naivete of righteousness. All while claiming to live for Goodness and Righteousness. Like a leech I suck up that which benefits me. Then I put my finger down my throat and throw up whatever doesn’t suit. I live for my own human-centered agenda. Me. Me. Me.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“A man who is kind benefits himself, but a cruel man hurts himself.” Proverbs 11:17

Remember the hurt that sinful selfishness inflicts, on you and others. Let wisdom and TRUE love win. Though wickedness oozes from the bone structure of my entirety, I remain conceited. Thoughts of my own purity and loveliness of character soar in my mind. So foolish, foolish.

“The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life.” Proverbs 11:30

I am wrong again; He is still right. All right. Nothing can change that. Better yet, nothing can shake His love.

“For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.” Galations 5:13

My ears hear you. Now let my heart-torn though it is-hear You too. Whisper the tale of love and redemption into me, for I desperately need reminders, renewal, conviction.

“I stretch out my hands to you; My soul thirsts for you like a parched land.” Psalm 143:6

Redemption > Remorse.