The tumultuous thumps of chaos have left me in an exacerbated state of emotion. Details aren’t important, at least not the methodical and dutifully categorized ones. My details are that of breath and life, of color and storms. I have loved quite deeply in all manners of the word, just as shallowly as well. Of all that is love, it is the deepest, the purest and most beautiful, that can and will wound you into the fiber of your soul. “I have friend, one that I love, her name is the moon…”
My nights have been missing their moon, missing that glowing satellite of spatial mass. My tides have lost all crests and pools, my oceans have turned in sorrow as the rhythm slowly dissipated and I was left in stillness, in silence; A quiet so deep and so absolute that the echoes of sound crumble like Granite Mountains. I was told to stay away from the ocean, but who can really do that? Deep calls to deep, right?
I kept hope when I lost it, on nights when I was dreaming of my moon, the shimmer that happens in the chasm of your mind, where synapsis fire like pistols and electricity rumbles through the smoke and like phantoms, figures emerge, my moon emerged. I awoke to the waning of hope. There was a cry in my silence, a roaring whimper that took a subtle prick at my heart. I leapt from the scattered smoke as reality bruised my body, scraping against door and wall as I made my way out.
The slow scraping of water against sand left me in shock. Tides? Here, now? The ocean was reflecting rage and there in the sky was a waxing moon. Brilliant white light pouring down in a frenzy, then like a snuffed flame, it was gone.
There is hope in me again, deep hope. My wounds are still raw, my heart still faint, my ocean is still silent and my night is darker than ever, but I know that “having hoped contrary to hope, in hope he believed…” I believe too. I believe I can do this, that It can change, that the horns of the alter are in my hands, I will not let go. I will be given audience and my petition will reach through a brass heaven and echo out like the cry of the ocean roaring against sand, roar like deep calling to deep.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Monday, April 16, 2012
Friday, February 19, 2010
inked
I am in this room. It’s warm and slightly dusty but not dusty enough to make you sneeze or your eyes to water, just enough to tell you it is still and old. Light is coming in the windows, bright white sunshine, splashing the book case with light. On the old cherry stained table in front of me are blank sheets of white paper. The old paper, not the kind you find in a printer. It isn’t that clean and perfect white; crème might be more precise. It is rough too, sops up the ink. There is a quill and an ink jar; both fresh. I pick up the quill stroking my hand against the feather. The jar catches my attention again and I dip the quill, deep like, I pull it out and let a drop or to spill on the paper and watch as it begins to dry. I poke it with my finger.
Stained skin.
It seems appropriate, I don’t think anyone is actually white; we are all more like crème. Some of us just a have a little more ink than others. I like ink though; I like that weird smell it has. I like that I can use it to write down the soul of a matter, not just words. The ink in itself is a word, a word that flows through all languages, it takes different colors and mediums but that doesn’t change the fact that it is very distinctly ink.
When I think about heaven I think about God drawing my eyes with ink. Taking fleshy white marbles and dipping a needle in some ink we have never seen, ink that lives and speaks, ink that changes over time and can never be erased or blotted out ink that came from God Himself. Yeah, I think about God picking up that round white thing and plunging that needle deep and inking my eyes, sort of like a tattoo.
I have two tattoos and will be getting more, but I have some that are divine, not in the really good sense, but in that real Divinity kinda sense. They are written on my heart and soul, on my mind. People ask me about them how I got them and where they came from; I tell them this Jewish guy I know wrote them there. They always ask what they mean; I try and tell them but sometimes they don’t understand that God can write and that He writes on souls. They have this thought, maybe God isn’t real. They know they are written on too, but their colors are fading. They think that because mine are bright I did something different, that I am either a lunatic or I have answers. I do have answers…one answer really; His name is Jesus, He is God. And He likes to tattoo.
Song of songs 8:6 “Set me as a seal—mark, brand, (ink)—upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is as strong as death…” Love is deep you know? It is strong too, stronger than people know; strong enough to rip you apart from the inside out, strong enough to kill you. I tell people to be careful with love; no one ever wants to believe that it can be strong enough to fade their colors. These are the same people asking me about mine. It is ok though, because mine were faded once too; faded like an old parchment with ink that is disappearing, beginning to flake off; faded like the glory of a republic that only exists in minds or like a dream that you begin to lose as soon as you are awake.
Are any of us really awake?
I just woke up, and I can’t see that room anymore. That ink I poked my finger in is fading away. But my colors…they still are bright
Stained skin.
It seems appropriate, I don’t think anyone is actually white; we are all more like crème. Some of us just a have a little more ink than others. I like ink though; I like that weird smell it has. I like that I can use it to write down the soul of a matter, not just words. The ink in itself is a word, a word that flows through all languages, it takes different colors and mediums but that doesn’t change the fact that it is very distinctly ink.
When I think about heaven I think about God drawing my eyes with ink. Taking fleshy white marbles and dipping a needle in some ink we have never seen, ink that lives and speaks, ink that changes over time and can never be erased or blotted out ink that came from God Himself. Yeah, I think about God picking up that round white thing and plunging that needle deep and inking my eyes, sort of like a tattoo.
I have two tattoos and will be getting more, but I have some that are divine, not in the really good sense, but in that real Divinity kinda sense. They are written on my heart and soul, on my mind. People ask me about them how I got them and where they came from; I tell them this Jewish guy I know wrote them there. They always ask what they mean; I try and tell them but sometimes they don’t understand that God can write and that He writes on souls. They have this thought, maybe God isn’t real. They know they are written on too, but their colors are fading. They think that because mine are bright I did something different, that I am either a lunatic or I have answers. I do have answers…one answer really; His name is Jesus, He is God. And He likes to tattoo.
Song of songs 8:6 “Set me as a seal—mark, brand, (ink)—upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is as strong as death…” Love is deep you know? It is strong too, stronger than people know; strong enough to rip you apart from the inside out, strong enough to kill you. I tell people to be careful with love; no one ever wants to believe that it can be strong enough to fade their colors. These are the same people asking me about mine. It is ok though, because mine were faded once too; faded like an old parchment with ink that is disappearing, beginning to flake off; faded like the glory of a republic that only exists in minds or like a dream that you begin to lose as soon as you are awake.
Are any of us really awake?
I just woke up, and I can’t see that room anymore. That ink I poked my finger in is fading away. But my colors…they still are bright
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The two natures; PART 2
The two natures; PART 2
Jacob, he was a son of Abraham. The genealogies list it like this, The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The crazy thing here is Jacob was not the first born. He was not the one to be listed in that line, it should say Abraham, Isaac and Esau.
But something happened.
Esau sold his birthright to Jacob. There are a couple things that could trip us up here. Can a birthright be sold? Aren’t you born into it? Is it even tangible?
Yes, yes and yes.
As I said previously about Esau, The birth right that he sold was not only about a parental blessing it was about taking the word of God at face value. But this is about the nature of Jacob…
Jacob was supplanter, he schemed he lied, and he deceived. So how did one like this ever get the blessing of God that would bring about the redemption of mankind?
After Esau sold his birthright, later Jacob tricked his father and lied to him-with the help of his mother; from that lie Jacob received the blessing due to the first born. This blessing wasn’t just about saying something nice about the first son, by receiving that blessing Jacob literally became as the first born.
After this he fled and married Leah and then Rachel. He had twelve sons. He later left his father in law and after some turbulent affairs came to a place where he was going to meet Esau. Jacob hangs here in a place of fear and uncertainty. His nature flares up again, he attempts to appease his brothers perceived anger by sending gifts.
And then something changes…
In Genesis 32:24
“…and then Jacob was left alone; and a Man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. 25Now when he saw that he-the man-did not prevail against him-Jacob, He touched the socket of his hip; and the socket of Jacobs hip was out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26And He said, ‘let me go, for the day breaks.’ But he said ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me!’…” In the following versus the angel asks him his name and then renames him “ISRAEL” which meaning “God prevails”
Jacob stepped into something.
Despite his nature of deceit he grabbed hold of God and would not let go until God blessed him. Even after being wounded by God he still held on and said “I will not let go.” Within us as believers in God and His son Jesus we have these natures in us. They both fall grossly short of God; proving our need.
There are times, moments of destiny if you will, when we step into a moment so divine we must tread lightly and violently. “For heaven suffers violence and the violent take it by force.” Jacob grabbed hold of heaven with violence and even after being physically struck and afflicted he would not let go. We have to have that same quality in ourselves. Esau forsook that covenant for food. Jacob held onto it even in the face of physical affliction.
The natures we have in us will either bring us to a place of raw abandonment and leaning on God or to the destruction of our souls and separation from Him.
Jacob held true to who God and pursued the Lords blessing over his life and became the one from whom the 12 patriarchs came. He gave birth to 12 pillars of which the world’s destiny would be forever linked to...
Jacob, he was a son of Abraham. The genealogies list it like this, The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The crazy thing here is Jacob was not the first born. He was not the one to be listed in that line, it should say Abraham, Isaac and Esau.
But something happened.
Esau sold his birthright to Jacob. There are a couple things that could trip us up here. Can a birthright be sold? Aren’t you born into it? Is it even tangible?
Yes, yes and yes.
As I said previously about Esau, The birth right that he sold was not only about a parental blessing it was about taking the word of God at face value. But this is about the nature of Jacob…
Jacob was supplanter, he schemed he lied, and he deceived. So how did one like this ever get the blessing of God that would bring about the redemption of mankind?
After Esau sold his birthright, later Jacob tricked his father and lied to him-with the help of his mother; from that lie Jacob received the blessing due to the first born. This blessing wasn’t just about saying something nice about the first son, by receiving that blessing Jacob literally became as the first born.
After this he fled and married Leah and then Rachel. He had twelve sons. He later left his father in law and after some turbulent affairs came to a place where he was going to meet Esau. Jacob hangs here in a place of fear and uncertainty. His nature flares up again, he attempts to appease his brothers perceived anger by sending gifts.
And then something changes…
In Genesis 32:24
“…and then Jacob was left alone; and a Man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. 25Now when he saw that he-the man-did not prevail against him-Jacob, He touched the socket of his hip; and the socket of Jacobs hip was out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26And He said, ‘let me go, for the day breaks.’ But he said ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me!’…” In the following versus the angel asks him his name and then renames him “ISRAEL” which meaning “God prevails”
Jacob stepped into something.
Despite his nature of deceit he grabbed hold of God and would not let go until God blessed him. Even after being wounded by God he still held on and said “I will not let go.” Within us as believers in God and His son Jesus we have these natures in us. They both fall grossly short of God; proving our need.
There are times, moments of destiny if you will, when we step into a moment so divine we must tread lightly and violently. “For heaven suffers violence and the violent take it by force.” Jacob grabbed hold of heaven with violence and even after being physically struck and afflicted he would not let go. We have to have that same quality in ourselves. Esau forsook that covenant for food. Jacob held onto it even in the face of physical affliction.
The natures we have in us will either bring us to a place of raw abandonment and leaning on God or to the destruction of our souls and separation from Him.
Jacob held true to who God and pursued the Lords blessing over his life and became the one from whom the 12 patriarchs came. He gave birth to 12 pillars of which the world’s destiny would be forever linked to...
Saturday, August 8, 2009
flowers in the desert
I have been in a real place of breaking recently, I don’t mean the “ow, that hurts stop poking me” I mean like the “AHHHHHHHH” flesh being pulled back and nailed to a wooden plank as your heart is plucked out and crushed until you bleed love-kind of breaking. Simply said, it has been great. No I’m not being sarcastic; in all honestly it has been amazing. How? Think of childbirth, a lot of pain and screaming and agony but there is definitely a joy in the process that something is changing and in the middle of all that discomfort there is the thought, “something is about to be born.”
That is where I am at, something is about to be born. Despite the ill fated nights of my clandestineness, where I was hiding beneath sheets of flesh trying to flesh out that ghastly nature of fleshly fleshiness; I have reached the point of having true joy in my position.
Recently I was rather taken aback by a simple but powerful encouragement via YouTube. In said encouragement, this dude was talking about “callings” and where people are at how to know what God has for you, said dude…said, “it isn’t about your ‘calling’ so to speak but rather what God has for you where you are now, you have to take it one day at a time and give yourself to the season you’re in now without living in the future that doesn’t exist yet. Find what you can and want to do know and run after it with the release of God.”
Too often we pass by what god has for us now by wasting our imagination and focus on what he will give us in the future. Today I know God has something for me, I just have to spend time with him so I know how to listen to what that is. This sounds simple and matter-of-fact-ish, but the truth is “it ain’t that easy.”
To love God is to pursue God and to pursue God means an active zeal in our hearts to push ourselves-through his grace-toward the ever so misquoted “prize.” That prize is Jesus himself. Everything else comes secondary to Him; Every ministry, Person and whatever half cocked Greek reasoned, self justified argument you could bring to deliver the contrary: in short lads and lass’, Jesus is the ultimate trump card.
So with this new place of broken joy, I am finding the desert to be a far more fruitful place than the dark soil of life’s little lessons. I don’t do little, I do big and I mean BIG. I know something is being born because I feel in my soul the pangs that it is taking to bring it forth.
All this is simple I know, I detest simple, useless diatribe aimed at reminding us that we are going to be ok and we are wrong for thinking otherwise. Are we wrong to think otherwise?
YES
But that is not the point, point is we live in a state of grace where it is not of works, and we are not debtors to the law.
It is way better this way, trust me.
So with a simple page or two of my ranting that seems so light hearted, I am conveying in part, 6 months of churning and tears and often times cuss filled frustrations at life and my circumstances, wanting more of God but knowing I was letting myself get in the way. Nights where my sleep was scattered, my heart more weighty than black hole and days of despair, destitution and bitter bitter, bitter words of a man that is long dead, “Though He slay me, yet I will trust Him.”
Ladies and men of the Gentle…hearts, He is faithful to fulfill what he promised. So with that, “keep on keepin on” and don’t wait for the future, make a Wave now, make it so big it knocks people over and leaves others sitting dumbfounded wanting to make one to.
If you want it bad enough, be ready to wear the sackcloth and ashes before you get the mantle and miracles.
Broken by grace, consumed by faith
Levi
That is where I am at, something is about to be born. Despite the ill fated nights of my clandestineness, where I was hiding beneath sheets of flesh trying to flesh out that ghastly nature of fleshly fleshiness; I have reached the point of having true joy in my position.
Recently I was rather taken aback by a simple but powerful encouragement via YouTube. In said encouragement, this dude was talking about “callings” and where people are at how to know what God has for you, said dude…said, “it isn’t about your ‘calling’ so to speak but rather what God has for you where you are now, you have to take it one day at a time and give yourself to the season you’re in now without living in the future that doesn’t exist yet. Find what you can and want to do know and run after it with the release of God.”
Too often we pass by what god has for us now by wasting our imagination and focus on what he will give us in the future. Today I know God has something for me, I just have to spend time with him so I know how to listen to what that is. This sounds simple and matter-of-fact-ish, but the truth is “it ain’t that easy.”
To love God is to pursue God and to pursue God means an active zeal in our hearts to push ourselves-through his grace-toward the ever so misquoted “prize.” That prize is Jesus himself. Everything else comes secondary to Him; Every ministry, Person and whatever half cocked Greek reasoned, self justified argument you could bring to deliver the contrary: in short lads and lass’, Jesus is the ultimate trump card.
So with this new place of broken joy, I am finding the desert to be a far more fruitful place than the dark soil of life’s little lessons. I don’t do little, I do big and I mean BIG. I know something is being born because I feel in my soul the pangs that it is taking to bring it forth.
All this is simple I know, I detest simple, useless diatribe aimed at reminding us that we are going to be ok and we are wrong for thinking otherwise. Are we wrong to think otherwise?
YES
But that is not the point, point is we live in a state of grace where it is not of works, and we are not debtors to the law.
It is way better this way, trust me.
So with a simple page or two of my ranting that seems so light hearted, I am conveying in part, 6 months of churning and tears and often times cuss filled frustrations at life and my circumstances, wanting more of God but knowing I was letting myself get in the way. Nights where my sleep was scattered, my heart more weighty than black hole and days of despair, destitution and bitter bitter, bitter words of a man that is long dead, “Though He slay me, yet I will trust Him.”
Ladies and men of the Gentle…hearts, He is faithful to fulfill what he promised. So with that, “keep on keepin on” and don’t wait for the future, make a Wave now, make it so big it knocks people over and leaves others sitting dumbfounded wanting to make one to.
If you want it bad enough, be ready to wear the sackcloth and ashes before you get the mantle and miracles.
Broken by grace, consumed by faith
Levi
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
machina
crunching metal is my beating heart
blasting like scat-filled cartridges
from this double barrel gauge of 12
or maybe 16?
bigger is not always better
like clanging bats on balls that have enough bass
to make themselves heard
a single piston pumping in this non metallic cage
steam billows from orifices
placed so artistically on my face
im pissed
Like a wrecking ball i am swinging
high and free
creaking with laughter
as i pummel the facade of fallacy
i am that crane, craning to touch God
blasting torches cutting like
tight-rope walking barbers
can you balance?
as these blinding lights
sear in their mark
and leave me smelling of burnt metal
the clock on the wall ticks one last time
as cards punch in and out
like a revolving door, or skirt
of the broken woman that sits on parramore
is she alone?
like chevy ford and dodge,
we are all good trucks
but its the drivers who crack our engine heads
as our rpms are pushed into red
we squeal beneath the pressure
as that ever familiar smell wafts into our cab
the smell of life going to fast for too many
glass flies in shatters
as hearts fly from open chests
with lives lying in tattered flags,
waving from the windows
of patriarchs
who still want to believe
i want to believe too
but like ice melting on glass warming
i am filled with carbon monoxide that makes
my smiles fade
for the spring of the song bird
has changed into a clash of the titans
with screaming fans their drink
intoxication is filling the ranks
and i am left wondering
can you hear my rhythm?
i am that slow beating drum
with that slight metal clang
to let you know
im not all natural
i wasnt something else before
i was made to make this noise
and like trumpets blaring in
beautiful defiance
i will be defiant
as the hammer clicks
the pin fires and in a blast of beauty
comprised of powdered gunnery
i am sailing through the air towards
cities in the inner
i believe
i believe
i believe in you...
blasting like scat-filled cartridges
from this double barrel gauge of 12
or maybe 16?
bigger is not always better
like clanging bats on balls that have enough bass
to make themselves heard
a single piston pumping in this non metallic cage
steam billows from orifices
placed so artistically on my face
im pissed
Like a wrecking ball i am swinging
high and free
creaking with laughter
as i pummel the facade of fallacy
i am that crane, craning to touch God
blasting torches cutting like
tight-rope walking barbers
can you balance?
as these blinding lights
sear in their mark
and leave me smelling of burnt metal
the clock on the wall ticks one last time
as cards punch in and out
like a revolving door, or skirt
of the broken woman that sits on parramore
is she alone?
like chevy ford and dodge,
we are all good trucks
but its the drivers who crack our engine heads
as our rpms are pushed into red
we squeal beneath the pressure
as that ever familiar smell wafts into our cab
the smell of life going to fast for too many
glass flies in shatters
as hearts fly from open chests
with lives lying in tattered flags,
waving from the windows
of patriarchs
who still want to believe
i want to believe too
but like ice melting on glass warming
i am filled with carbon monoxide that makes
my smiles fade
for the spring of the song bird
has changed into a clash of the titans
with screaming fans their drink
intoxication is filling the ranks
and i am left wondering
can you hear my rhythm?
i am that slow beating drum
with that slight metal clang
to let you know
im not all natural
i wasnt something else before
i was made to make this noise
and like trumpets blaring in
beautiful defiance
i will be defiant
as the hammer clicks
the pin fires and in a blast of beauty
comprised of powdered gunnery
i am sailing through the air towards
cities in the inner
i believe
i believe
i believe in you...
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