I revert to streets whose pitch rises and falls with the heaving earth beneath. Precious plump stones are broadcast accordingly, and the once straight lines of these passages dip and swell under the pressure and over the surging of gravity's expression. These roads reach upwards, and atop an old hill sits majesty donning her cathedral-cap.

The belfry kisses the day goodbye, while the days fading is braided with tolling tremors, and the advent of evening ushers the death of one, with the life of another.

I capitalize on the struck bell, and a day's noting of the slipping sands of time. Particular moments are secured to be recognized as time stands a little aloof; a hallmark is given to that spilled moment, forever abandoned to eternity.


I'm desperatly trying to abandon enigmas, but it seems truth is cloaked in color and clamor these days... Enter our pomegranates, plums, figs, and crushed grapes. I am hearing these clanging bells amidst a protesting pandemonium of splashed earth, and as a new day dawns, moments inch to the culmination of their proposed dawning.
I see these precious fruits, and consider their day of humble beginning. I am compelled to compare the kernel of man to the culmination of their kind. Their ripened hues are perfected in timely graces, and as the matured fruit deepens, so their glory and flavor is magnified.

Perhaps I feel I am always losing at some race I never entered, and yet I am compelled--thrashed--to participate most fully in this marked out course set for my life. I am likening us humans to ripe fruits, for I wonder how often we mature into that most satisfying, and determined stock for which our Creator destined us. I feel the nibs of the frost and daily stop short of His design. Reader, slough with me the superfluous words of my intended communication, and consider the core of your created prototype; are you living as the season intended, and [by God's grace] preparing to reap the bounties destined for harvest in your life? Is each bell's toll sounding forth on unregretted moments framed in your lifetime?


I am not, and thus, I stir us all to consider those sleeping boughs against our own dormant hearts... I pray something of this resounds...

I've landed myself in the belfry of my musings, and as each thought is concocted and crowned, the expanse of tolls pour forth as the burgeoning town at twilight. The rooftops are infused in ebbing afterlight and the radiant warmth of stored day, wherein the carillon of bells rolls forth from the spire, and reverberates on chords captive to human hearts. This repose is cast on dwindling days, and is as the draping of quantified quandaries realized.

Beauty has declared itself in variant shades of mellow, and each observation recalled is as blushing rouge dipped in dark cherry. Basslines have blended and become as brassy inlay on this evening scape of earth and fruit. My eyes blink merlot, and the warmth of this hue coupled with creations cap on the months of its maturation.


With words as filigree, and images as fabric, could you tell me reader, what lesson is intimated here to us?

Marriage

A congratulations goes out to Emily and Evan on this fine day! Indeed no one who reads this blog has any idea who they are, but I again reel in the wonder that is Biblical marriage, and I celebrate with them, as two become one.

An initial dullness seems to settle on me each time I finish a season of intensity and activity. I am presently there, and "Persuasion" was a welcomed edition to my night's activities. Creative juices are brewing and time is only needed for a bit more rumination until the push is on, and the products come forth. We creatures are habitually in need of reflection and afterthought, and as my Lord's birth is upon me, my days must slow as I condsider Him "from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name..." (Eph. 4:15)

I slept quite restlessly last night and the image pictured before I woke was of a man in a mauve vest, whose unspoken pronouncement was of the nature of my family's ties. I could not sleep longer and was quite groggy, so I rested my head and sipped my coffee to slow swigs of Ephesians. My eyes landed on the verse previously mentioned, and as quickly as my flesh had forgotten its Redemption, the Word soaked the cotton linens carelessly draping my eyes, and truth was so sweetly revealed to my condemned soul. Drink this my friends: "...so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works so that no one may boast."

Recently I've been camping on a concept that I'm believing the Lord is wanting us all to believe. The context is the 4th chapter of this sweet book, and it is surrounded by our knowing of this incredible, eternal love of God that is simply beyond knowledge--let alone the feeble attempts this penman has in writing--nevertheless... These past couple years have been cloaked in prayers of obscurity, unbelief, and despair, but recently, in a shower of answered prayer, the Lord has graciously delivered my mind from its restless questioning of His goodness. I am again in the "hill country of perfect trust," and while my faith is far from complete, its object is restored in my mind's eye, as that which is most lovely and perfect in its allotment to this creature.

Vs. 20 says, "Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen."(4:20-21).

In ways, I believe I have been crippled without my knowing. I have been limping and lame and asking questions as an illegimate child, and not a son; the blood that has redeemed us is perfect though, and when we ask, let us ask in faith, without any doubting (James 1-regarding wisdom)... If you abide in Me, and My word abides in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." (John 15:7) These here are some serious statements that I faintly utter as unbelief and false humility occlude my eyes, and but I am stepping out here folks, and praying back hell, with that power mentioned above... We want His glory, and not nearly to the degree that He vies for it, so let us pray according to that word which is in us, and as we wait, may we expect to see exceedingly, abundantly beyond all that we ask or think... Praise You, Jesus!

Created for glory

I sat in unmoving reverie this a.m, as the eyes of little children gazed, giggled, and smiled into mine. Music swelled and soothed as we recalled again the eternal One's entrance into time, and His condescention in donning the flesh of those He came to save.

A beautiful bronze baby found himself on the lap of Mary, and as the silence filtered in the sound, I was struck by the stillness of the magi, whose upraised hands beckoned to the posture of my soul. Their faces were softened with the goodness they were savoring, and in that divine wedding of the natural to the spiritual, our hearts soared upwards into the light of His presence.

My mind darted to its memory, and at once I recalled standing atop a glorious summit over the Pacific. Great emerald parrots perched in the foreground of the landscape as the most illustrious sunrise filled the sky. I remember sitting with tear-stained cheeks as I perceived all of the concerted warmth therein; a heat that could only partially thaw my heart, for I knew nothing of its Source. With every strain of my senses, I sought to gulp of the glory beheld, and with bowed head, I languished with angst and sorrow.

The suicide of my friend had left me grappling with eternity, and as I perceived the immensity that spanned the breadth of the earth, it seemed but a foxhole compared to the chasm then fixed between myself and my Maker.

Dear reader, I write this because you were created for more--you were created for glory. This world was never meant to be your home; its pleasures are not your salvation, and there is nothing in them with power enough to satisfy you; they were given to point you to their Giver. You have been given senses, that when submitted for their design, are meant to please you, and magnify the One for whom you were made. You were not made for yourself, and this world holds nothing that can permanently satisfy your eternal soul. You were crafted to reflect and adore your Designer, and your chief joy was to know Him who made you--who loved you, and endowed you with gifts with which to bless others, to enjoy Him, and to make His goodness evident to all men. Ephesians 2:4-5.

For those who are regularly accustomed to seeing and savoring Jesus, I invite you to reconsider your knowing of Him, and the degree to which He inhabits your heart. See Him, know Him, experience Him and the pleasures found in His right hand (ps. 16).

For those who know of Jesus in a manger, Jesus as a teacher, or Jesus as a good man, I invite you to consider Jesus as the One through whom you have gained your being. John 1:3 says, "All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. 4In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men." I pray as you read this, that you might consider Jesus, and the hole that remains unfilled residing in the center of your chest. No one knows you like your Maker.

Hillsong None but Jesus - music video