More Precious

Lord, I want to help grow your kingdom
Lord, I know you have a plan for me
Lord, teach me to listen to your wisdom
And live and walk my days accordingly


(Lord, you are more precious than silver
Lord, you are more costly than gold
Lord, you are more beautiful than diamonds
And nothing I desire compares with you)

An Appearance

I had a strange dream last night in bed;
it's amazing what dreams will bring out of one's head.
I was a nurse in a hospital, that much was true,
and was so busy, had a hundred things to do.
As I went to meet my patients and open up their doors
there in one of the beds was none other than my Lord.
"Master, Jesus, how is it you are here?"
I reached up my hand to brush away my tears.
I heard Him say my name; He had gentle, tender eyes.
My heart ached for Him. I sat down by His side.
His wounds ran very deep; He didn't mention pain.
He just let me hold Him close as He called me by my name.
It wasn't long before my duties heralded me away.
It's not that I avoided Him, I just figured He was okay.
I came back near the end of shift and there He sat in bed,
His wounds healed, His smile revealed, glory shone from His head.
He had disappeared when I returned to check Him once again.
I didn't know what to make of this, but I felt I had sinned.
It wasn't until I opened my eyes that I realized a number of things.
First, the Lord is everywhere; He's in the least of human beings.
Second, I can't just check in on God; He wants me at His feet.
Third, if I don't follow Him I'm left with palpable defeat.
Fourth, He loves me dearly and finds me where I am.
Fifth, He paid my price for sin, God's sacrifical lamb.
I realized my choice of life with God was shallow to compare
with the worlds of love and joyfulness He longed for us to share.
I had seldom let Him speak, my words so filled the air.
I was the one in control of all His routine care.
Now I see I had it backwards, God is in control,
and I'm the patient next to Him, as He came to make sick whole.
I'm grateful for His appearance in my nightly sleep,
for I've much to learn and time is short and He's always so willing to teach.

Post-dream personal journal entry recorded 9/15/2003

Post-judice

What is more dangerous prejudice or post-judice?

A friend of mine under attack today expressed his sorrow for his accusers as they are the victims of their own prior unforgiveness.

GCM

What is life like in a cage when the lock is absent?

What if the keepers tote sound report but love you best with guilt, shame and fear…

control your gift of freedom, malign your redeemed name, undervalue your adoption, ask to become your gatekeeper to God,

what then?

In obedience do you too become a Pharisee, abiding within traditions’ constraints,

bending your will first to ones created?

How can we ask such questions?

Season for Patience

Boldness wanes with the hour
I am called and will come
At times I own the prophet’s fear – am I the only one?

Solo stance, nil recompense
Initial walk’s a blunder
My image is marred; I back pedal assailed, nigh asunder

Church with malaise unfelt
Find me sanctuary; Render rest and aid
I rebuke apathy, antagonism and labels of a crazed renegade

Time is of essence
It’s both now and not yet
Spirit, loose our chords together
The ripe fields wait for the bride to awake
Tethered faithful advance freedom; Claim stake

Masters of Fake Fruit

The swankier the store the more successful the fake foods in the kitchen section are at stimulating my rebellious salivary glands.

I’ve come to despise those artisans in plastics.

But I’m an artisan of my own sort, frequently surrounded by like kind. Our imitations are also good enough at first glance to fool, sadly, even ourselves, for a while.

Unlike masters in plastics whose creations outlast the lifespan of that which they imitate, ours tend to be an anemic companion to their counterpart. But as originals have come to rarity, the imitations, particularly good ones, are trendy enough to pass, for a while. But to what end?

What is this communion?

In my childhood a peer of mine posed a question to me like a sphinx on a road.

If you were in the middle of a conversation with someone and God told you to pray, would you:

A) Continue your conversation, ignoring the impulse, likely telling yourself you would pray later.
B) Wrap up your conversation and go somewhere private to pray.
C) Stop immediately and pray.

I answered ‘B’ and within the hour I paid the price for that incorrect response. The answer is C. Today I again challenge myself and possibly others – the answer is, stop immediately and pray.

What is this privileged communion?

This glorious incredulous option
Bowing my will, my motive, my care
Wise and essential abasement that sets my soul to flight
Communing with unspeakable Power
Encapsulated, if that were the plausible descript, in love
Words unneeded, true presence suffice
Sound and sometimes sight of hidden things of God
Faith to follow
Spirit provoked guttural impulses
Spurring many a blind obedience
What is this communion?
Sustenance, life, breath, water... all