More Light

...the rising sun will come to us from heaven

to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the path of peace.

Luke 1:78-79

waiting for morning

Tired feet
Crowded streets
Beating sun
Silent Apprehension
Dusty eyes
Too much to cry
Aching back
Danger lurks
Feel alone
This isn’t home
No room
No place to go
Scratchy hay
God seems far away
What will the night bring?

On the outside looking in
The darkness hovers like a blanket
Making me shiver inside
I sit on a hilltop far away
Alone with my dreams
The sheep are scattered
They cannot see me
The night is silent and heavy
Pregnant with a desperate kind of expectation
Like my land
Which cries out for rescue
My feet know well its rifts and scars
It longs to be remembered
I feel it in my bones
The night is long
When will morning come?

Driven by their fixation on a constellation
Weary wonderers plod on, plod on
Tread ahead
Don’t look back don’t look back now
We’ve come to far to turn back now
Wonderers wonder if they are insane
Pilgrims ponder if they’re half crazed
Half dazed by mirages playing out on the horizon
Fooling their imaginations
Sometimes they fear that there is nothing there.
Nothing there.

And we wait. We wait. We wait. Soul longing, heart hoping. …Aching.

Something stirs.

And then, and then and then….

A match was struck,
Phew! At once the darkness scatters out of reach.

The clouds part again. There. Stars. Pin pricks of hope in the velvety depths, mapping direction upon seemingly endless dark in which I’d lose myself.

Lighthouse shines out, a beacon of hope in the storm.

The heavens open. Glory hallelujah! All the broken land bathed in healing light.

The tips of jagged rocks turn pink as they catch the sun’s first rays of a new day. Transformed from signs of threat to signs of promise.

A NEW DAY A NEW DAY A NEW DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Night is over. Darkness has lost its power. Awake my soul, A new day! Suddenly I can see. see I am not alone.

journal (Sunday morning)

'Infiltrate' by Worth Dying For

I'm a part of the fellowship of the unashamed.

I have Holy Spirit power. I've stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I'm a disciple of His. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still.

My past redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure.

I'm finished and done with low living, sidewalking, small planning, smooth-knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, worldly-talking, cheap-giving, and dwarf goals.

I no longer need pre-eminence, position, promotion, applause, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded.

I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk by patience. I am uplifted by prayer and labour by power. My face is set. My gait is fast. My goal is Heaven. My road is narrow. My way is rough. My companions are few. My God reliable. My mission is clear.

I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of my adversaries, negotiate at the table of my enemy, or ponder at the pool of popularity.

I won't give up, shut up, let up, until I've stayed up, stored up, prayed up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus.

saturday night journal

advent

Advent creates people, new people. We too are supposed to become new people in advent.

Look up, you whose gaze is fixed on this earth, who are spellbound by the little events and changes on the surface of the earth.

Look up to these words, you who have turned away form heaven disappointed.

Look up, you whose eyes are heavy with tears and who are crying over the fact that the earth has gracelessly torn us away.

Look up, you who, burdened with guilt, cannot lift your eyes.

Look up, your redemption is drawing near.

Something different from what you see daily will happen. Just be aware, be watchful, wait just another moment. Wait and something quite new will break over you: God will come.

(Dietrich Bonhoeffer).

piece me (from stepping beyond, 21 nov 09)

you piece me together
you take the scattered parts
and bind them, fuse them
you stitch together the patchwork shapes
the shapes with patterns that everyone else said didn't match,
you make the puzzle pieces fit when everyone else had given up

there you go
piece by piece
placing me together
shard by shard
the broken glass
takes form once again

and i like it

i am surprised because it is beautiful

and it reflects the light in one hundred different directions