If feelings were true

If feelings were true and told no lies
If thoughts could always show me how
If words could solve every mystery
Then I know that I'd be free by now
If I could coax my mortal flesh
To somehow bend to my command
To dance to every tune that's played
And refuse to move from where I stand
If feelings were true and told no lies
If fools could live on bread alone
No doubt of silly compromise
Indeed every bite would turn to stone
Who can play a tuneless song?
Who can build on the waters edge?
Everyone will fall to silence
After every word has been said
If feelings were true and told no lies
Every problem would bear a solution
Yet here we stand, eyes closed, tears hot
Floundering about in utter confusion
Seek what you will, but all seek in vain
Salvation is found in once place alone
When the foolish desires are laid to rest
And weary eyes are turned towards home
The Father is calling, lay down all guns
Peace is found in unfailing love
Thoughts must all be cast aside
In the end they will never be enough

Sweet insanity

This feels like insanity
Doesn't make much sense to me
My head always gets in the way
When I hit the ground and try to pray
So many thoughts that have no use
Breaking free and running loose
In the end what worth is that?
In the end can I look back
And say all I did was just for You
Or some other motive to try and prove
My worth to You and all who see
All this toil for the glory of me
Yes this feels like insanity
To trust in what I cannot see
Sometimes I feel You far away
And doubt will try and make me pay
This all may look ridiculous
How foolish to have such blind trust
Where words will fail actions will rise
And show the heart that lies inside
It's all of You and none of me
Though it feels like insanity
I will choose to hope in what I can't see
Yes this feels like sweet insanity

Where love never dies

Now that the storm rages it's finally clear
Every trial I've faced has been to lead me here
A place where the veil can be torn into shreds
A chance to bring life where lies have been bled
The rest and sanctuary that has never been mine
So elusive and taunting to the tormented mind
Has finally been given through the grace of a King
Even though, in my state, I have nothing to bring
When veiwing His splendor through unhindered eyes
I see this is the place where love never dies

Now that the storm rages I can finally see
Your love has always been willing and free
So I give You my life and take it right back
Follow in Your way then forge my own path
Coming and going with no sense of time
Wasting a life that's not even mine
Yet here at the cross I shed my own skin
Rejecting the old and new life will begin
Never felt so at peace, never felt so alive
Here in this place where love never dies

So lead me away from the world and its sorrow
Grant me the courage to face every tomorrow
Put aside my fear to take up Your standard
For You are the light, the truth and the answer
What the future will hold I can't even guess
And I know at times I will make it a mess
At times I will feel alone and terrified
So I'll run to the place where love never dies

Breathing again

What a waste of time, to hold my hand
A waste of love and affection
For most certainly, I am what I am
And you will always face rejection
My fiercesome conviction bids me to turn
Away from all hope of love
Sooner or later everyone learns
I strongly urge all to give up
I give what I can, only take what I must
And retreat into the world I created
And while all I hold dear crumbles to dust
My taste for pain remains unsated
A smile by day, a phantom by night
Haunting the halls of my lonely exsistence
A fragile bird always poised to take flight
Eternally weakened by my strongest defences
So where does that leave me? Cold and alone
Peering into the chasm I built for my heart
My unwavering pride has been carved out of stone
I rest miserably assured it will never break apart
The best of the worst is always my fare
Uncertainty is a most cruel beast
While some have been able to catch me unaware
Others have deemed me the worst of the least
So that leaves me here, scared and uncertain
Spirit always yearning to knock on the door
To finally tear back this immovable curtain
And joyfully find that there is so much more
More thah what I know, more than I see
So much more than I dared to hope for
Oh God if it's possible, please let there be
A chance to breathe and fear it all no more

The fool

The fool will think that they alone will survive
The strongest and wisest to escape here alive
Every battle plan has been perfectly laid
The numbing fury will always sustain
The world falls into ruin while they sit there in rapture
Feeding on bread from their merciless captors
Biting the hand that holds out to save
Falling into the depths of a watery grave
Feasting on wine from poisonous veins
Clothing themselves in the finest of chains
Tormented cries fall on deaf ears
Utterly blind to their fellow mans tears
Confused and angry, a hatred for hope
The only option to seek is firmly letting go
Chasing every possible pleasure
Polishing every worthless treasure
Pulling down strength from uncaring eyes
Springing every trap, believing every lie
A harsh opinion this is known to be
None so jaded and cynical as me
I must ponder this before laying down rule
Is how many times have I been the fool?

St. Augustine's confessions

One of my favorite writings of St. Augustine.

What, then, is my God? What, I ask, unless the Lord God? Who is Lord but the Lord? Or who is God but our God?
Most high, most good, most mighty, most almighty; most merciful and most just; most hidden and most present; most beautiful and most strong; stable and incomprehensible; unchangeable, yet changing all things; never new and never old, yet renewing all things; leading proud men into senility, although they know it not; ever active, and ever at rest, gathering in, yet needing nothing; supporting, fulfilling, and protecting things; creating, nourishing, and perfecting them; searching them out, although nothing is lacking in You.

You love, but are not inflamed with passion; you are jealous, yet free from care; you repent, but do not sorrow; you grow angry but remain tranquil. You change your works, but do not change your plan; you take back what you find, although You never lost it; You are never in want, but You rejoice in gain, You are never covetous, yet You exact usury. Excessive payments are made to You, so that You may be our debtor, yet who has anything that is not Yours? You pay debts, although You owe no man anything; You cancel debts, and lose nothing. What have we said, my God, my life, my holy delight? Or what does any man say when he speaks of You? Yet woe to those who keep silent concerning You, since even those who speak much are as the dumb.

The essence of You

Searching for signs my heart is still beating
Trying to staunch the flows of it's bleeding
Lifting my eyes and lowering my head
On the crooked path my dusty feet must tread
My fingers are clutching these pieces of glass
Stubbornly refusing to let the misery pass
Throwing myself into the fury of the storm
As the waves of bitterness slowly take form

I pause for a moment to ponder my fate
Struggling to think in my ignorant state
Is this what I want, to shatter my dreams?
To unravel my life and tear at the seams?
I know I want more, more than all this
There's a plan for my life I don't want to miss
How can rise I rise above the merciless waves
How can I be free from this inevitable grave?

I want the essence of You to be the essence of me
The path that I walk, the air that I breathe
The song on my lips, the dance of my feet
The laughter of my soul, and my every heartbeat
I want pictures of me to be relfections of You
In everything I say and in all that do
Let there be only one thing that I desperately seek
That the essence of You, be the essence of me

Mirrors and images

When was the last time a mirror told you what you wanted to hear? Bear with me for a moment as I refer to a mirror as being capable of doing so. I realize it is an inanamit object, incapable of thoughts or emotions, I'm simply being metaphorical. When was the last time a mirror was honest with you? If you are anything like me, it doesn't happen very often. More often than not, I chance a brief peek in the mirror, and instantly feel disappointed. There are few times I look in the mirror and don't regret it. Lately, I've been pondering why. You really don't have to look far to see that society today is teeming with ideas and specific opinions on what beauty is. People everywhere, all around the world, are influenced in one way or another, by images or gossip. The self made 'bar' of beauty has been raised absurdly high, while the bar of acceptance a been lowered to unrealistic levels. Every time I stop and truly ponder it, the more ridiculous it seems to me. For instance; Who decided that acne makes someone ugly? Who decided that anyone being anything other than skin and muscle, is fat? Who decided that clothes can either make or break a social status? Who made us care? Society will always have a cruelly critical eye fixed on everyone. There are days I feel I cannot escape its burning gaze. It follows me everywhere. Then, I pause for moment and wonder, "Why? Why do I care?" I look at people of all ages, ethnicity, shapes and sizes, and try and figure out why everyone is so impacted. There are, of course, obvious influences, tv most likely being the guiltiest culprit. Those folks on tv just look so darn good. Flawless skin, perfect figures, straight teeth, impeccable fashion, and irrepresible charm. Everything I'm not. In all appearences, they have everything. Then, there are those blasted magazines. Have you ever been standing in line at a grocery store, checking out the newest brands of gum, and suddenly caught sight of a magazine out of the corner of your eye? Amongst the various gardening options, construction advice, guns and gossip, there's that one ripped guy or flawless women smiling generously at you, as if to say, "My life is good." I must admit there is a brief moment where I can't tear my eyes away. And, almost instantly, I start thinking about my own figure. I start comparing. As I shuffle forward to purchase my items, there's already a knawing in the back of my mind. Slowly chewing it's way into my sub-concious, where it sets up shop and begins to chip away at my confidence. Then, there's that group of friends on facebook or myspace, that seems perfect in every way. A ridiculous amount of friends, a fast track life, and (again) perfect forms. The list of distractions and pressures goes on.
All this made me think. Why? What does physical appearance do for us? One theory presented itself. It may be outlandish, but it is the only conclusion I can possibly reach for. We all want to be accepted. Even those who claim to not care, deep down, want to be accepted. We want to be wanted. Desperately. We desire to be noticed, maybe even admired. We want others to want us. And somehow, society has taught us that physical appearance is a deal breaker.
Yet, on the flip-side of that, there is something else that chips away at our self-confidence. Perhaps the worse critic of all. Us. "You are your worst critic." So true. Often times I will obess over something for a long while, feeling like it sticks out for all to see, only to find out later that nobody even noticed.
As cliche as it may sound, I think everyone is beautiful. We are beautiful. Don't listen to that mirror. God made us in His image, and He doesn't make mistakes. Ever. We are beautiful.

Silent prayer

Do you ever feel like no one hears you? Do you ever feels like no one listens? Like you could stand in a crowded room, screaming, and not a single person would turn your way? I sure do. Words begin to feel useless. Like trying to shout into a raging storm. The words are ripped away the second they pass my lips. Amid the mad hustle and bustle of a constantly changing society, people get lost in the chaos. Forgotten. Left in a lonely corner to gather dust. It is easy to feel forgotten and unheard. It's easier still to be the one to forget and not listen. How many times have I gone about my way, blissfully and contentedly unaware of the storm that rages around me? I choose to coast on through, surviving by any means necesarry, yet I cry injustice when the same is done to me.

I was struck with a thought today as I watched one of the deaf kids pray. Growing up, I was taught many times over, the 'proper' way to pray. I got very very good at praying, and stopped talking to God altogther. But today, as I watched her pray with her hands, I realized how useless my words are sometimes. It rarely occurs to me that God reads what comes out of the heart, not the mouth. Words are good, but they are just noises if not spoken from the heart or with true intent. It somehow never occured to me. I can create the most elaborate and spectacular prayer, laced with good intentions and delivered with passion, but if I am not bothering to approach the throne of God, then it's just a show. I make myself disingenuous. There's nothing wrong with folding hands, closing eyes, and kneeling. It's a sign of respect and humility to God. Yet, from what I understand, He also just wants me to talk with Him. To communicate with Him, in all honesty and love. Even though the deaf girl couldn't use words, God listens the prayer of her hands and her heart.
And He doesn't just listen, He hears us.

The Kingdom

"The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went out and sold all he had, and bought that field."

This struck me quite hard. What struck me the most was word Joy. Not happiness, not contentment, not excitment, his joy. When was the last time I felt overjoyed at knowing Christ? At best I content myself to be safely happy. At best I harness my emotions to sit back and take little part in the massive hurricane of love that He is. When was the last time I let Him sweep me off my feet? His love is a wildfire, and I am clutching a lighter. His love is an endless ocean, and I'm splashing around in a stream.

The man in the parable, without hesitation, went out and sold everything he had. Not most of what he had, but everythig he had. He surrendered all he owned, considering it nothing compared to the Kingdom of Heaven. In his overwhelming joy, and in complete faith, he sold everything. Would I give up everything for the Kingdom of Heaven? Would I sell all I have to gain the Kingdom? There are times where I surrender things little by little. A small bit here, and pinch of surrender there, but staying inside these lines I've drawn. I get so comfortable in my shell of moderation. There is nothing comfortable or moderate about faith. Faith cannot be measured by man. In human thinking, there is very little about faith that is safe. In fact, it looks down right ridiculous. Undignified. Crazy. To sell everything for a Kingdom that cannot be seen with human eyes.
I want to be down right crazy for the Kingdom.

Me and you

I'm standing here by your lonely door
Hand poised to break the silence
If feels so wrong being so unsure
How could I possibly breach this distance?
You and me, me and you
What on earth are we going to do?

Your eyes will tell what your lips will not
An open book I can't understand
It seems like I knew, but then I forgot
Does this even deserve a second chance?
I'm trying to explain in my lonely way
I'm failing to sketch these useless words
Even if I screamed at you face to face
Somehow I know I would go unheard
Me and you, you and me
Is this the way it's meant to be?

The time for answers has all but passed
The pieces have slipped from my nerveless hands
Who is to say if this turmoil will last
Who is to say I will ever understand
You go your way, I will go mine
Perhaps one day our paths will cross
Let's just leave all this heartache behind
And bear the sting of love not quite lost
You and me, me and you
There's nothing more that we can do
Holding on can mean letting go
I'll see you again, long down the road

Stand tall

All who know stand and agree
At best I am the worst of me
Come on home, brutal honesty
At best I am the worst of me
Move your feet you fearful heart
All you hold is breaking apart
The paintings that you proudly display
Are fading away into a soulless grey
The world will never cease to move
Someone will always have something to prove
Take a break, slow down and breathe
You will not be saved by the web you weave
Between holding and letting go
Of expectations and genuine hope
You learn to trust the true painters hands
Though your failures outnumber the sands
It's not up to you when it's far too late
It's not up to you to decide your fate
All who know stand and agree
His love alone can set us free
Come on home, sweet honesty
His love alone can set us free

Day one

I picture a child.
                           A small, shy child, seated on a rickety chair in the middle of a classroom. Glasses scrunched on her nose, eyes squinted, peering up at a wide blackboard the teacher is scribbling on. Equation after equation is written out in exceptional detail, and to see it, it appears to be absurdly simple. But the child, however intelligent, cannot make heads or tails of it. Trying desperately to work the numbers and scratching furiously on her paper, she struggles to keep up and grasp the concept. Every fiber of her being desires to solve it, to be able to understand. To lift the fog of confusion masking the answers. To no avail, she tries again and again. The numbers refuse to fall into place. She casts a suspicious eye around the classroom, a small part of her hoping to see another student in the same battle. It appears that she is the only one unable to complete the task set before them. It just doesn't make sense. She wants to understand, to grasp ahold, and move forward, but she cannot move beyond.
                             I feel like this child, the classroom is life, the teacher is christianity, and the equation is my faith. Where is God in it all? Why can't He simply infuse me with unshakeable faith? I struggle within myself, a battle with flesh and spirit. I am a mustard seed that refuses to germinate and grow. Every time I poke my ahead above the surface, preparing to flourish, I catch sight of the towering forest around me, and I retreat back into the dirt. How could I ever become like a towering oak? How could I ever even dream of being fully alive and blossoming in His Life? I am that child, still in the classroom, buried in a mountain of failed tests, slowly losing faith. Too frustrated to continue. I am still that child. I've outgrown my small desk, every corner of the classroom has collected cobwebs, the lights have long since burned out, and my limbs have grown weak. Yet still, on the dusty blackboard, remains the instructions. The simple, yet oh so baffling instructions, step by step, waiting to be understood. I throw my pencil, scatter my papers, overturn my desk, and beat my fists against the blackboard. I just want to give up. To walk out of the classroom and never look back. To give in to my flesh, and burn away the last of my faith. Oh, how patient He is. Anyone else would have given up on me. None other, has the love and faith that He does. He remains faithful, when I am a fickle lover, He remains kind, when I abtain cruelty, He remains gentle, when I unleash my rage, He remains patient, when I give up so easily, He remains a powerful God, when I sink below the surface.
                            Ignorance is a frightfully familiar tune I dance to. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Am I to attain the knowledge of Good and Evil? Right and Wrong? No matter what I believe there will always be someone to challenge it with dogged and passionate fervency. Who is to say who is right? If I retreat to the bible, Gods word, and attempt to find the answers there, who is to say I am reading it correctly?  If the ragged ship of my soul is lost out in a storm at sea, who is to say that light piercing the black fog is Good or Evil? Dare I steer my ship towards it? The trickery of Evil, is that one cannot always see it for what it truly is. Evil comes cloaked in light, and one does not find this out until it is too late. I desperately search for answers, praying continuously for wisdom, yet I hesitate. If I claim to desire wisdom, and at last attain it, my days of ignorance will be over. The thin film of what I percieve as reality will be torn to shreds. There is no going back from that. So I fight wisdom and discernment. I want it. I hide from it. I beg for it. I swat it away with a careless hand and fingers that itch to sin. How it is possible to be so conflicted, I do not know. My feet yearn to dance in the freedom only righteousness brings, but with knowledge comes responsibility. If I were to be brutally honest, I would say that is not my hearts desire. Yet, my life is no longer my own. I surrendered my hollow shell of a human body, my tattered heart, and wandering soul, to my Father and King. This was not to be done lightly. Taking up my cross and follwing Him through mountains and across deep seas, was not a decsision made on a whim. My choice to emerge from the shadows and stand before Him, filthy, yet willing, was not made lightly. It cannot be done lightly. It is not a life choice, meant to be chalked up with menial tasks and pro-active actions. It changes the very structure of the soul. It is a wonderous gift. A beautiful burden. An agonizing death, followed by new life. I emerged from the womb of ignorance, no more than a helpless babe, weak, and unsure. My eyes were opened. With this, came sorrow. My heart, Gods possession, yet easily swayed the the world, grew heavy with grief. When I observed the world, I saw a mere glimpse of what He sees, and it broke my heart. It is so hard, no, almost impossible, to pursue further this journey into wisdom. Altogether terrifying. I cannot turn back, yet my feet refuse to carry me forward. I stand on the brink. I stand on the raging waves. I stand in the blackened valley. In the end, I stand before Him.