One Day

They sit in the front seat 

after a pleasant evening 

of friendship and laughter, 

as typical as any. 

And on the way home, 

they share hopes for the future, 

and she listens to him dream

while she quietly dreams too. 

His eyes cannot see

through the glaze that covers 

her little brown irises, 

brimming with smiles, 

as she says a quick lie 

to hide a small truth 

that she accidentally let slip. 

Just as well, 

since he hasn't a clue 

that she's hidden things from him 

for what's turned into years now. 

She always meant well, 

and didn't see the point 

in ruining something 

that would never be more.

All her accidental truths 

have become hardly accidental 

because her silenced heart 

is screaming to tell him 

that every time she quiets her mind, 

her thoughts always go back 

yes, her thoughts always go back, 

to him. 

"One day", 

she says to herself 

as she steps out of the car 

and walks to her front door. 

"One day", 

she prays to her God 

as she crawls into bed, 

and gives everything up to the sky.

62 .4 .8

We love
like we have to,
rather than chose to,
with obligation
lacing our seemingly
good intentions.
And we love
like we know
what it means to love,
like we penned
the term and definition
ourselves.
We love
with greedy hearts
that look selfless,
and we wander,
looking for gain,
rather than for good.
And we love
by what we say
and what we do
and feel it
in what we hear
and what we get.
We love
as if we know
what it means,
and as if it's enough,
but we forget that love,
is not a word or a feeling.

He's the Creator of Heaven and Earth.

Liturgy

I am no longer my own, but Yours. 

Use me as You choose, 

rank me alongside whoever You choose;

put me to doing, put me to suffering;

let me be employed for You, or laid aside for You, 

raised up for You, or brought low for You;

let me be full, let me be empty;

let me have all things, let me have nothing; 

with my whole heart I freely choose to yield 

all things to Your ordering and approval. 

So now, God of glory, 

Father, Son and Holy Spirit, 

You are mine, and I am Your own. 

So be it. 

And the covenant which I have made on earth, 

let it be ratified in heaven. 

Amen. 

-- From the Valley of Vision Puritan Prayers

I Know I'll Repent of This in The Morning...

I have nothing more to say,
than this:

You saw my heart,
You knew my emotions,
You let them develop,
then you took it all away.
You've broken me,
to a point of confusion,
and I can't see You
or hear You
and I want You to know
that I'm not impressed.

You saw my fleece
and my honest cries
and you stomped all over it.
You saw us on the altar,
and our offering up to you,
and you provided no lamb.

In my anger,
I have nothing more to say than this.

Gideon

Here is my fleece,
on the ground,
in Your hands,
fully offered up.
Because I can't keep it.

Be faithful to me
Oh God.
Be faithful to me,
Oh God.
I need You.

Not tomorrow
not the next day,
now.

Here is my fleece.

Isaac

I remember an offering, 

not to many months ago, 

where I was offered up 

to atone for your mistakes. 

Twice I was put on that metaphorical altar, 

against my own will, 

(but yet so very willingly) 

and each time there was one result. 

And I prayed to a God

who allowed me no peace, 

but only allowed the remaining truth, 

that you were not to blame. 

The second time you saw me, 

broken for a crime you committed, 

your hands were no longer clean, 

and your heart was no longer locked up. 

So we prayed for redemption

and a healing of our scars, 

and your words became beautiful, 

and your heart became honest, 

while my words became strong, 

and my heart became forgiving. 

And something emerged 

from a box we had placed our God into. 

But now the altar is prepared again, 

a third and final time, 

but this time I am not bound alone, 

we are bound together. 

We offer up

our dreams and desires, 

our hearts and our lives, 

to a God who deserves all of it. 

And we trust in our Provider, 

since he knows our very souls, 

to remain faithful 

whether a lamb appears in the the thicket or not. 

Osterich

To those who subscribe
to fluffy, flowery, rose coloured faith:
You're fooling yourself.
Utterly, totally, fooling yourself.

If you think sanctification is fun
then there's no work being done,
and if you think surrender is easy,
then you're just holding back.

Because really,
the refining is painful
and challenging, and long.
And the offering up
of a life you think is yours,
is to die to yourself,
every morning, afternoon, and night.

To those who subscribe
to a surface level, mushy gushy faith:
wake up.
Get your head out of the proverbial sand,
and wake up.

Someone Else's Prayer (3)

Jesus,

I am sure of nothing

but this: 

The fact that I am desperate

for more of your truth, 

more of your Word, 

more of all that you are. 

I need nothing but to surrender 

to your will and your ways,

But my feet hesitate, 

and my hands slip, 

over and over. 

It seems the only thing 

I never fail at, 

is failing. 

But Jesus, 

I see your faithfulness, 

as a promise, as a truth, 

and I will believe. 

Though I hesitate, fall, and fail, 

I will believe. 

Because

His eyes may be sorry

and his shame may be heavy,

but nothing changes.

Faith fell through the fingers

of nervous and broken hands.

Her heart may be empty

and her words may sound forgiving,

but nothing changes.

Hope was laid to rest

in a necropolis of dreams.

The only thing that changes

is the way we come to the Father,

with open mouths and weary eyes.

Asking the same question,

to a God who only has one answer.

"Why?" we ask.

Because. 

Seas to Drown In

From Your hands the water flows,
like mercy into the darkest depravity,
kindly supressing the burning of sin,
gently healing the years of suffering.
To the ground the cares will fall,
like leaves from the fall trees,
like dust in a dry summer,
displaying a peace that surpasses words.
In the dark the light will shine,
through the souls of the faithful,
trading the sorrow for redemption.
Because really, what else could be sweeter?
Not the taste of honey on a bitter tounge,
but the taste of eternity,
salvation and grace,
to taste the flavours of life unending,
like nothing in this life.
From Your hands comes your love like seas,
ready, ever ready,
for me to drown in.

Small Town Heart

One day I will live here.
Or at least somewhere that's like this.
I was never created for the bustle and the noise, I was created for the silence, and the beauty found in wilderness.
I was made for the safety found in knowing everyone's names.
I was made for serving those who walk the same streets I do, day in and day out.
The Small Town calls my name, and it's the same voice that called me to live each moment for a Great Creator.
He has created my heart to dwell in the quaint.
Call me simple if you please, but call me happy also.
Call me simple, because maybe I am.