Doubt Flees

Sidling in each ear

via shouted words

from missionary kid mouth

now tall, angry activist.

 

Doubt creeps in.

 

Slits on wrists scream, “no God,”

truth tossed aside.

like too hot Pop Tart. However,

the no-shoes God man is here.

 

Request for sick mother placed

in paper draped box, signed

The Atheist, subpoena

to the Holy One unheard.

Advertisements

Wildsmolder

There is a taste of what is coming in the diet of my week.

A foreshadowing lurks between
the moments when I am admiring how high the women hold their heads and eyebrows
and the moments spent wondering why hot funjuns for breakfast?

The small sacrifice of spare moments and 10% has turned into a portion of my earnings and the precious commodity of the American Sunday Afternoon. I wish I could be with my family. I wish on a grey day that I could be in PJs watching Drake & Josh with my sister. Where is the pleasure in exiting my parent’s warm house to traverse a dreary, thirsty city?
Could he ask of me any smaller task? Is there anything so precious that requires less effort?
That which I lay on the altar now is like a goat compared to Isaac under his father Abraham’s blade. (Genesis 22)
I give up hours;
He has called me to give up a lifetime.

My thoughts are cast forward to when my call will be demonstrated:
I’ll move overseas,
I’ll follow God farther than I’ve followed before.
Farther than Yakama, Washington
Much farther than Jamaica
Or Mexico.

I’ll say goodbye to home and heartland until my visa is due to expire.
I will doubt and question my decision and He will remain faithful
Amidst a myriad of scenarios beyond my most wild imaginings.

I can no more imagine the barrier of a sea between my family and I
Than I can fathom the barrier of a language between my heart and my neighbor’s.

My faith is small.
It’s a rock balancing on the tip of a formation lost in the desert. In the sun and wind it is strong and balanced. But the slightest rain, a little drizzle, and the rock falls down down, breaking into pieces of red slate.
That’s me.

Perched happily (precariously) atop my savings, my network, my job, my school,
Until the rain comes. The slightest trickle:
A hydroplaning incident (including my reaction to said incident) that may cost me my dream vehicle, a portion of my college savings, and a precious relationship.
How many of those things matter?
I would venture to say only the third.
Which of those things do I have control over?
In this scenario, only the third.
Sin is the destroyer. Not rain on the road or a swerving semi-truck, or insurance fraud or an unjust system. Sin makes the things that matter topple. My sin causes real issues. Yelling because my trust is gone. Crying because I am tired of trying (we call that a pity party). These are the problems.

Money is secondary.
Higher education is tertiary at best.
The Father’s love is primary. The Father’s glory is on level with his love.

My faith is smaller than a mustard seed, and not nearly as powerful.

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the hearts of the contrite.”~Isaiah 57:15-16

Obedience Story

(written May 27,2013 by someone too lazy to post it….)

It all seems quite pointless
Everything seems complete and handled
(Except me)
And I’m just floating along, head barely above water,
Staying afloat because it’s the thing to do.
Then chaos happens
And as I respond with immediate action,
Care,
A picture forms in my mind.
A tale of obedience; A path that I am walking,
Start to finish.
All that I do is a process,
An uphill battle, a struggle towards Glory.
What’s going on now is a part of that.
A girl walks along,
Messing up,
Doing good,
Messing up,
(Repeat.)
It’s her life story:
Always doing wrong
Always coming back.
Wandering-returning,
Walking in the dark, uncertain, bolstered by faith.
It is difficult as people get hurt due to her weaknesses.
By good grace she moves constantly forward,
Upward.
Like a monkey swinging from jungle vine to vine,
She takes the ups and downs in stride.
She flies on,
Living in sunshine brokenness
Overflowing with joy
Terrified of what’s to come
Hopeful for a good ending
At last.

Goes Without Saying

My eyes are heavy, because there’s no more tears to cry;

Don’t put your business on the street.

Mama sells herself for heroin;

Don’t put your business on the street.

Daddy run off when I was only three. If he is my daddy…

Don’t put your business on the street.

I hate the way it makes me act, but I never want to stop smokin;

Don’t put your business on the street.

That lady ain’t doin no harm to nobody, but I gotta do it anyway because they’ll hurt me if I don’t;

Don’t put your business on the street.

He always comes in at night, I just pretend it doesn’t hurt;

Don’t put your business on the street.

They broke my legs, my trust, my pride,

But I won’t put my business on da street.

They want to help me, but I got self respect so I listen to what my family’s always sayin:

“Don’t put your business on the street.”

 

 

“…given the vocation of service to the Lord…”

Dry Up For Me the Jordan

I am strong and Titan, she said.  She looked in the mirror and there was Strength.  A girl with no loyalty, only power.

I can do anything.  Here is what I can do for You, God. Let’s go!

Then God showed her a bit of Himself…twice.   She cried out:

All. All for and to You! Draw me nearer, You are the wind in my chest, the breathe behind my sails.

He stretched out His Heavenly hand and touched her.  She believed she was ready to go, sold out for His glory.  He knew it wasn’t time yet.  She was not broken enough.  He weakened her, let her be torn apart-limb from limb, dream from dream.  Physically, emotionally, socially, financially:  all fell away like sand in an hour-glass.  He wanted her to let Him take over in order that she become 100% His servant-slave.  But doubts crept into her heart; she looked in the mirror and the demons told her:

Weak. Undesirable.  You’ll never be happy, worthless girl.

She believed them for a moment and the pain rolled over her like a cement truck until her Saviour renewed the Divine hope within her soul:

Don’t give up, Beloved.  There is so much more to come.

He whispered to her heart:

This too shall pass.  Press on.  I am a God of miracles.

Life.  Real, extraordinary life is around the corner!