Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Hope On Display


Sometimes the ache on the inside 

steals my breath

and grinds my insides

Really? Again? 

Can't this - peopling - ever be simple?

Will hope always be 

mired in muck

always grasping and gasping

for life?


Hope


It is truth!  

Not all this 

...other stuff 

that reeks of death 

and cheerlessness

expectation 

and failure


How long, oh Lord?

And why so hard?

I hate this place...


Yet on these days 

smiles and jestings flow 

Like grace

they save me

bathe me 

in refreshment

and laughter breathing


On these days 

I'll make you laugh

Life force on display

for you 

...for me

For no matter how breath-less   

I will see grace 

I must


Come what may

...and it is here again...

hope will breathe

grace ever-flowing

It's origin far upstream

where no eye has seen

no ear has heard

and no mind has imagined

the goodness prepared 

by Him who is all good


He holds me tightly

...always has

In Him

hope never disappoints

Into this parched

discouraged 

stubborn heart

He will pour love


again


And while I wait

I'll fight

with light and laughter

...hope on display

The smile that hides the battle

but battles on

unquenchable


For hope will have the last laugh



*       *       *       *       *       *       *


No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined
the things that God has prepared for those who love him.
~1 Corinthians 2:9


 Therefore, since we have been declared righteous by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in the hope of God’s glory. Not only this, but we also rejoice in sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.
~Romans 5:1-5



Monday, September 15, 2014

To Be or Not To Be?


The list clamors in my head, "Do this first! No, this! You should! You must!"

I can't bear all this yelling.

Despite some maturity, I still hate conflict. And today, mind curls into fetal position that cries, "Enough! Just care for me! I am not what I do!"

Is this weakness? Laziness?
I don't know.

Is it real need for real rest?
I have no idea.

But it is today.

I do not thrive on dos and shoulds and musts. I never have. I am so out of place in this world of dos. My skin never fits it's demands.

Take me to a quiet place where doing is paced. Tasks, patient. A place alive with listening, watching, knowing. Let me feel and write. My best doing is in being.

I wish it were enough.

Yet, each day has been apportioned for me...

Is my weariness mere rebellion?

So often this battle finds me. Outer reality meeting inward frame. Most days we compromise. I muster courage. Stuff down inner voice and do...stuff.

Yet I always wonder: Is there a place to be in this world of doing? Do I only earn my being by doing? Is joy and breath and fresh air only for those who get their stuff done? 

And even as I rise from pondering, knowing I will do today, resigned soul clamors back it's parting shot,

"To be or not to be? That is the question."

Perhaps it's the voice of Eden lost that keeps me ever longing. An inner knowing that I was made for rest. For knowing and being known.

One day all that was lost will be restored. Until that day I soldier on, by His breath and in His strength, wresting quiet from the truth that one day I will be free...to be.  



Saturday, September 13, 2014

Trespassing Darkness


Oh, the thoughts I do not write out loud

The thoughts concealed from others

yet not wholly hidden

The ones weighed heavy

discontent

threatening breath and life


How I'd love to will them away

but no

It doesn't happen that way

I wish it did

It's a lazy desperation

while mired in imaginings

standing as shadow over this heart


Darkness and shadow...


Yes, sometimes I venture there

staying far too long

Roots fingering down

demanding vindication

lengthening oppression

These are not friendly roots

The shadow unsafe

I know this well


For truth stands vigilant

when mind cries vigilante

Truth stands still

and stills my heart

Stills roots that seek

to bind in stealth

...make bitter


How despised, this place I choose to go

These thoughts that trespass holiness

For in them I trespass darkness...

another's kingdom


I have no haven here