The Longing

Oh for a night of starry skies

Uncluttered by the hum of the city;

With it’s buildings looming ominously -

Silent, yet oppressive in their stark,

man-made rigidity.

Like a prison.  

The air is thick and heavy

down here.

The sky looks so different

through the bars of a cell. The stars

twinkle coldly, just beyond my reach;

Distant, like promises unfulfilled -

Promises of being with You,

and hearing You whisper,

drawing my soul to pursue.

To seek solitude,

And silence.

In an open space, far from the noise

Of the city, complicated and consumed

with itself, and its glory.

Far from the static of traffic,

roaring back and forth on the highway.

Aggressive. Ignorant. Busy.

They twinkle overhead,

Unhurried, unmoved by all the bustle.

Like sentinels manning their posts,

faithfully reflecting His beauty

without force and without pride.

Patiently. He waits…

To be desired, and sought out,

And pursued.

The Creator, and Author of  Life.

A Prayer George Washington Prayed

" O eternal and everlasting God, I presume to present myself this morning before thy Divine majesty, beseeching thee to accept of my humble and hearty thanks, that it hath pleased thy great goodness to keep and preserve me the night past from all the dangers poor mortals are subject to, and has given me sweet and pleasant sleep, whereby I find my body refreshed and comforted for performing the duties of this day, in which I beseech thee to defend me from all perils of body and soul.

Direct my thoughts, words and work. Wash away my sins in the immaculate blood of the lamb, and purge my heart by thy Holy Spirit, from the dross of my natural corruption, that I may with more freedom of mind and liberty of will serve thee, the ever lasting God, in righteousness and holiness this day, and all the days of my life.

Increase my faith in the sweet promises of the Gospel. Give me repentance from dead works. Pardon my wanderings, & direct my thoughts unto thyself, the God of my salvation.
Teach me how to live in thy fear, labor in thy service, and ever to run in the ways of thy commandments.
Make me always watchful over my heart, that neither the terrors of conscience, the loathing of holy duties, the love of sin, nor an unwillingness to depart this life, may cast me into a spiritual slumber.
 But daily frame me more and more into the likeness of thy son Jesus Christ, that living in thy fear, and dying in thy favor, I may in thy appointed time attain the resurrection of the just unto eternal life.

Bless my family, friends & kindred unite us all in praising & glorifying thee in all our works begun, continued, and ended, when we shall come to make our last account before thee blessed Saviour, who hath taught us thus to pray, our Father. "

- A prayer of George Washington, excerpt from George Washington, The Christian By William Jackson Johnstone 

Jesus the Artist | The BioLogos Forum

Jesus the Artist | The BioLogos Forum

We have been doing a parable study for New Testament Introduction in school at the moment; so interesting and challenging! This little blog, I think, sums the whole thing up nicely, and puts the parables in a light that you may not have been viewing them in before.


M

Pursuit

How do I love you, when I cannot see you?
A desire, no mortal thing can satisfy, 
wells up from deep within my being.
I cannot rest, or settle here, amongst mere, earthly routines;
For whatever have been my gains, whatever the glory,
whatever is credited to my own creativity, 
there remains in my soul an ache of incompletion.
A depth of human frailty.
My own, unsteady mortality.

Who am I, apart from You?
Though I have not seen you, 
my heart says of you, "seek his face!"

I have nothing until I have found You.

[For I am the Lord your God, who stirs up the sea,

causing its waves to roar. 

My name is the Lord of Heaven's Armies.

And I have put my words in your mouth

and hidden you safely in my hand.

I stretched out the sky like a canopy

and laid the foundations of the earth.] {Isaiah 51:15-16}

I - able and enabled to create -
stand 
c  r  e  a  t  e  d.
Breathed into being by One most creative of all.

[When I consider your heavens,

the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars, 

which you have set in place,

what is mankind that you are mindful of them,

human beings that you care for them?

You made them rulers over the works of your hands;

you put everything under their feet:] {Psalm 8:3-6} {emphasis added}
 

"Whatever the cost to us in loss of friends or goods or length of days

let us know Thee as Thou art, that we may adore Thee as we should.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen."

A.W. Tozer ~ The Knowledge of the Holy

The Shadow Box

Some days, Life feels foreign.

I feel like a stranger to everything
that  has previously felt familiar
and comforting; and "home". I feel
so far  away from people I am
connected to - almost disconnected -
as if I'm looking at their lives going
on as normal from behind a thick
pane of glass, and they are oblivious.

On their side, life is the usual bright,

certainty-filled schedule, carrying on 

as normal, full of bustle and activity                                                        

and purpose; and laughter and sunshine                                                        

and conversation.                                                       

                                                      

On my side, there is S I L E N C E.

And space, and nothingness. Just 

the sound of my own breathing.

S t i l l n e s s.

I am standing still, in a Shadow Box,                                                      

merely watching the visuals of life                                                        

unfolding on the other side of the                                                        

glass; Time seems only to apply to                                                         

what I see - rather than to me. I am                                                        

just an observer.                                                        

Most times, the Shadow Box is a secret                        

refuge, for the Shepherd leads me there                        

and it is safe. It is comfortingly quiet                        

and still, because He is in the silence, and                        

the shadows lean in,  l  i  s  t  e  n  i   n  g                       

for the voice that brings peace.                       

But sometimes, the Silence is deafening. 

The walls of the Shadow Box feel 

impenetrable and ancient, unyielding.

The air is the temperature of Absence 

and the shadows stand aloof, cold and 

distant, rugged up in their solitude. 

I feel like I cannot reach Him - the roof
above my head is muting everything,
keeping me in isolation. Suddenly His
divinity and my humanity are in plain
contrast. I am reminded of my flesh and
blood, my substance, in the Silence. I
feel like screaming: Where are you?
My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?!    


I think I am beginning to understand a little bit more of what Jesus felt, as a man of flesh and blood, in the moments when He was hanging on the cross. 

Not that I will ever understand them in full. 

But if the Son of God, in human form - one of us - experienced the silence of the Father at all, in the moments or days in our lives when it feels as though God has withdrawn himself, we can look at Jesus, and find comfort in his anguish: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?". He didn't hide it. He experienced it and he addressed it by questioning it.

Sometimes, the stark contrast between intimacy - the moments when the presence of God is so tangible, it feels like Jesus is walking right beside you, speaking with you - he's there - and abandonment - the moments when he feels distant and silent, and withdrawn,  - can be confusing.

But I think I have been learning more about this relationship I have with God through the tension of this contrast, and growing to understand that there may be a lesson in His 'absences'...
I know now that I am not just in a relationship with Him. He is also building a relationship with me. 
And he actually chose me first - loved me first. So if anything, He's building something, and a revelation has recently begun to unfold, that has made me view 'Shadow Box' days in a brand new light.

They were recently summed up for me in this passage of scripture:

Then Jesus left Galilee and went north to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Gentile woman who lived there came to him, pleading, "have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David! For my daughter has a demon in her, and it is severely tormenting her."

But Jesus gave her no reply - not even a word. Then his disciples urged him to send her away. "Tell her to leave," they said. "She is bothering us with all her begging."

Then he said to the woman, "I was sent only to help the people of Israel - Gods lost sheep - not the gentiles." But she came and worshiped him and pleaded again, "Lord, help me!"

"It isn't right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs," he said.

"Yes, Lord," she replied, "but even dogs are permitted to eat crumbs that fall beneath their master's table."

"Woman," Jesus said to her, "your faith is great. Your request is granted." And her daughter was instantly healed.
~ Matthew 15:21-28

...But Jesus gave her no reply - not even a word. #silentdays
Q. Was Jesus testing this woman's faith? What was the purpose of His silence?

...then he said to the woman, "I was sent only to help the people of Israel - God's lost sheep - not the gentiles."
Q. Apparent rejection. What were her feelings?
...But she came and worshiped him and pleaded again, "Lord, help me!"

{But she came and worshiped him.}

                                                     

                                                                  

                                                        

Heart Beat

In A string of moments
Everything changes;
Everything moves.
 
Glowing and fading, 
Sleeping and waking,
Giving and taking,
Loving and hating...
 
We are living
And learning
And breathing.
 
Seeking the solidarity
Of Truth -
We take each shaky step
On sinking sand
In this wasteland of
Shifting shadows.
 
Knowledge entreats us - 
"onward, Soldiers!!
You have come;
You will see -
You must conquer!
There is a horizon to discover."
 
To the heart-beat of time, we march;
Never pausing,
Never resting,
As the pulse of reality
Beats rhythmically,
 
In
And out.
 
In,
And out.
 
In...
And out;
 
In glorious radiance,
The horizon appears - 
Flooding the land with light.
And we are engulfed
In brightness 
For a moment.
 
Transfixed with wonder,
We collide
Like Dominoes,
In silence and s l o w   m o t  i  o   n,
Electrified with the
Triumph of experience.
 
Rippling the silence
In muffled echoes -
Time keeps pace with existence.
 
Beating, beating;
Building - pulsing -
It thunders, CRASHING!
breaking in our ears,
Until they are ringing.
 
And suddenly, the light is behind us.
The beginning 
has become an ending,
And we walk with a million memories,
Forward.
 
Sleeping and waking,
Giving and taking,
Glowing and fading... 

We Are

Learning and Living

The Lessons of Letting Go

So much of Life is learning to let go.

When I think of my foundations, I remember my childhood, and the small, simple beginnings of those first chapters in the story.
My Mother, with her winning smile and love of writing, singing songs and playing guitar on the verandah in the summertime; brushing my hair and baking cakes and cookies and all kinds of delicious treats to eat. Reciting poems she had written as she tucked me into bed, and prayed with me at night...
Dad, and his love of laughter and fun. Teaching us to fish. Leaving us wide-eyed with tales of mischief and adventure from his childhood in the Kiribati Islands; his radical experiences of God, and his faith as a result, were instilled into me as a girl. He taught me to hold fast to joy - that no one could ever take it from me; I remember how he used to tickle me until I cried. His love for the Ocean and the outdoors infused my upbringing with an awe for the beauty of creation that is still a part of me now. Family gatherings on my grandparents' farm, multitudes of cousins to collaborate and conspire with, and green, wide open spaces - sparkling ocean, deep blue skies; fresh, crisp air. Summer fragrances, Christmas dinners around candle-lit tables.
That was childhood.

Laughter. Love.                                                                                                                   Music. Peace.

Simplicity. 

Safety. 

There are days when memories suddenly catch me unawares - memories that remind me just how deep the roots from which I have sprung are planted - filling the picture frames of my mind and flooding my heart with the gravity of "home". The life I once lived and knew. A sense of familiarity and complete mutual experience that somehow bore the weight of everything else. We were complete together, even in brokenness.


I feel like there comes a moment in life, in the middle of all our doing and seeking and striving - in our eagerness to grow up; to reach maturity and independence - when everything suddenly
s l  o w s  down for a split second, and the noise and buzz and busyness around us is silenced, compelling us to stop, take stock, and turn around. Something inside us yearns for home again, for simplicity...

But all we can do now is remember. Remember where we have come from.

I think the value of certain life and relationship experiences becomes more apparent to me the farther away I am taken from them. Time only moves in one direction; we are born, we learn, we long to progress to the next stage of life, exulting when we get there, and in doing so, sometimes forsaking the value of a season as it is unfolding. Even if we could recognize the value of everything we experience, at every turn, age itself spares no resting or pausing on this particular journey, steadily churning forward, year by year, reminding us that we have only so much time to recognize the value and treasure in each individual chapter of our lives, before the next one presents itself.

For me, a sense of loss sometimes pervades this realization.
Understanding the value of an experience only as the distance between you and it increases feels like losing something before you knew there was anything to be lost. You are left with a new kind of yearning to go back and get it again, yet, an underlying understanding that you cannot do this prevails; it is now the prize and treasure and experience of another generation.
You must re-learn the value of a moment or experience passed through mere reflection and retrospect... in order to let go of it.
Sometimes, I feel like this sense of loss is the only way we learn the value of our everyday experiences when they have unwittingly been taken for granted. Because it is here, when a lone traveler striding hastily along the road of life, halts for a second, leans slowly upon his walking staff and looks back over his shoulder at the trail of footprints behind him, that he will face the smooth path stretching out before him with greater understanding and reverence. And he may ask himself the question: 'I wonder if the travelers in the direction from which I have come really understand the value of the moments they have been given to steward?'

I am reminded that there is some depth of truth to that old quote: "You don't know what you have until it is gone".

Life is precious.

Nonsensical whims

I do not often write about my daily activities.

Not because my days are boring [one would hope], and not because they lack in excitement or memorable event - but rather, it is because if I were to start recording my day in writing, I would be inclined to feel the need to do it all again the next day, and the next, and so on... and I know from experience that I will not live up to that self-imposed expectation.
I don't know why I ever entertain such expectations, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am somewhat of a devotee to details, and a lapse in the story of my life, once begun, just wouldn't do for my 3 devoted blog followers... And I cannot bear to subject them to such inconsistency!

Of course, I am in jest.
I don't think it would bear much importance at all, really.

I have deduced something, though; I much prefer the challenge of organizing thoughts - taking things invisible and unobserved and building them into structures, with words - than the task of faithfully recording daily activities, for to me, that can become a mechanical observance.

Thoughts appear to me to hold a great deal more mystery than actions; they are still in need of expression, or translation, while actions are self-explanatory, and evident.
And, all things taken into account, thoughts precede actions, so therefore one could conclude that the quality of one's thoughts are of definite relevance to the quality of life one lives.

I also enjoy challenging myself to employ 19th century English grammar and vocabulary, on certain occasions...

That is all.

The Rythyms of Grace

//The more self-aware I become, the more I see that I need to fix.
The more I see that needs fixing, the more I will attempt to try and fix it myself.
The more I try to fix myself in my own strength, the greater the load gets. And the greater the load gets, the more I realize that I will never be able to fix everything.
I have learned that self-awareness at a certain level comes with a price. And that is, the fact that the number of things in me that require fixing will only ever multiply; they become so numerous, these weaknesses, areas of lack, default tendencies, perceptions, fears and reasons begin to fill my mind to capacity. And that in turn, employs all my mental strength.
In other words, there are so many holes in my sack of sand, all of my focus is centered on trying to plug them up, but the sack seems to be made of hemp...

Holes are inevitable.

And if they are inevitable, plugging every single hole is impossible, without living a completely self-centered, inward life.
That was not what we were made for, but so often we find ourselves in that very place - striving and imitating those we perceive to have less "holes" in their sacks. Striving soon results in exhaustion, and an exhausted person is ineffective, and unable to give anything.

Grace: covers the holes
Hope: in eventually receiving eternal freedom from burdens
Faith: to shoulder the load

Awareness, if it takes my mind off what Jesus did at the cross - which is, the salvation of me: an imperfect, blemished person - and puts the focus on all my blemishes, is basically a challenge to Salvation. A test of faith.

At the end of the day, I could know so much about myself and all my weaknesses and areas in my life that need improvement; I could understand and grasp every method needed to fix and correct these areas, but so many begin to appear, it would probably take a lifetime to see it done. A lifetime spent. A life lived in that way would end up being completely self-centered.

The more aware I become, the more reason I have to be thankful for grace; to have faith that I was made to be in partnership with God, because He completes me. His grace is sufficient for me, and His power works best in my weakness. All my hope is in Him.
And what He's done in my life in the midst of my completion - despite all my failures and weaknesses - is what really matters. It's the point. That is how he reveals His goodness, His faithfulness, His generosity, His love and compassion, to others. My life is a message of His love. Through a relationship with you or I, though it would seem so completely incomprehensible, he makes known his passionate desire to be in relationship with every single one of us. The sole core of love is generosity. It is to be shared.
If I am too consumed with my weaknesses, I have no capacity to accept His greatness. In His greatness, God laid aside a royal throne, his pure and radiant divinity and sovereignty - His rights as the Creator of all things - to blend in with mere men, and serve them without accolade or demanding recognition or honor; to die a renegade's death, paying the debt of my sin, and my weakness.
He did it so that I might surrender my incomplete self to him, and receive complete rest.

“Fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms.”

–C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

You will guard him and keep him in perfect and constant peace whose mind [both its inclination and its character] is stayed on You, because he commits himself to You, leans on You, and hopes confidently in You. - Isaiah 26:3

This is what the Sovereign LORD,
      the Holy One of Israel, says:
   “Only in returning to me
      and resting in me will you be saved.
   In quietness and confidence is your strength.
      But you would have none of it.

                      - Isaiah 30:15 NLT

#Word

I have just been reading a little about the life of G.K. Chesterton.
He has been to me, up until this point, one of those mysterious literary figures of which I know not much, save that He is famous for his writings, and has been much quoted by various Christian scholars.

It is not enough for me to understand that someone is famous, without knowing why. In the end, I am always driven to research, and this is one of those times...

I came across a quote, from His work A Miscellany of Men, and it relates so uncannily to the train of thought in my last post, I was honestly amazed.
And inspired to share it here :)

//It is perfectly true that there is something in all good things that is beyond all speech or figure of speech. But it is also true that there is in all good things a perpetual desire for expression and concrete embodiment; and though the attempt to embody it is always inadequate, the attempt is always made. If the idea does not seek to be the word, the chances are that it is an evil idea. If the word is not made flesh it is a bad word//

~G.K. Chesterton

I have a feeling my reading list is about to expand...

The Wisdom of the Written Word // College Comentaries

WORDS have always fascinated me. The history of them, the construction of them - the weight of them. The opportunity for the creation of something new, buried deep within them.

It occurred to me once that God created the world with his Words, and since the deep-seated revelation of that fact unfolded for me, they have fascinated me even more. There is something significant in the ancientness of a text that is completely compelling; something more to the art of writing than meets the eye. Maybe it's the enduring role of words, and of language; they are the sole agents by which we gain knowledge, understand and learn of our histories and where we have come from, and record and explain our own lives, journeys, beliefs, revelations, thoughts, desires and dreams for future generations to grasp.

Words are a legacy.

 

“If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are rotten, either write things worth reading or do things worth the writing.”  - Benjamin Franklin 

 “Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man.”  - Sir Francis Bacon  

I am part of a local church here in Sydney, and becoming part of this church has shaped my life significantly in the last couple years, so that now, building this church is redefining me. It has become, in essence, Home.

And out of the flow of knowledge and understanding and freedom that I have had the opportunity of receiving here, come my own thoughts and unfolding revelations; they are slowly and steadily shaping who I am and who I was made to be. My goal is that central to all, would emerge the evidence of the WORD at work in me.

In the beginning [before all time] 

was the Word (Christ), and the Word 

was with God, and the Word was God 

Himself. He was present originally with

God. - John 1:1-2 AMP

God created everything through him, 

and nothing was created except through 

him. The Word gave life to everything 

that was created, and his life brought 

light to everyone. The light shines in the 

darkness, and the darkness can never 

extinguish it. - John 1:3-5 NLT

And the Word (Christ) became flesh 

(human, incarnate) and tabernacled 

(fixed his tent of flesh, lived awhile) 

among us; and we [actually] saw His 

glory (His honor, His majesty) such glory 

as an only begotten son receives from his 

father, full of grace (favor, loving-kindness) 

and truth. - John 1:14 AMP

Words flesh out thought, and thought is a root of what makes us who we are.

 

It's who you are, not what you say and do, 

that counts. Your true being brims over into

true words and deeds.  - Luke 6:45 MSG

Whatever is in your heart determines what you say. [Thinking + speaking = being, and will result in doing.] 

Words bridge the divide between soul and body; they are the incarnation of thought, almost. Thoughts can be of the most excellent type and intention and quality and value, but unless uttered, or written, are rendered worthless. And even when written, until they are read, remain weightless.

Thought precedes Word, yet without Word, thought becomes irrelevant. Words are key.

Paradoxically, words can be plagiarized, recited, emptily repeated and stolen. Thus, maintaining the integrity of my heart and thoughts becomes the goal, for if I'm desiring to please God, which I am, I have understood that he desires honesty from the heart.

For I was born a sinner - yes, 

even from the moment my 

mother conceived me. But

you desire honesty from the 

heart, so you can teach me

to be wise in my inmost

being. - Psalm 51:5-6 NLT

Above all else, guard your 

heart, for from it flow the

springs of life. - Prov 4:23 NLT

I am the the result of a direct thought of God. He spoke his thoughts, and the world was born. Humanity was birthed.

The counsel of the LORD

stands forever; the thoughts

of His heart through all 

generations. - Psalm 33:11 AMP

How great are Your doings,

O Lord! Your thoughts are

very deep. - Psalm 92:5 AMP

Search me [thoroughly], O 

God, and know my heart!

Try me and know my thoughts!

- Psalm 139:23 AMP