Looking at the Moon

Gazing at that haunting orb,
the landscape seems transformed...
nothing is the same as it was in a way,
yet there is a constant variable that remains...

I think I pushed past the blot that I thought was an exclamation mark;
and see a fresh vision of who You would have me be...
Lord...I am still me. I am truly depressed for a moment as I think on it.

...the hairs that threaten to break my back still
tickle and prick my flesh with their usual prods.
but I no longer see the blockade in front of heaven's gate...

Your rod and Your staff prop me up agains the walls
....that used to move as if motivated by spite.
The outline is still there in form, but fresh wind blows in
...and moves me towards new pastures.

The magnet is weaker...
...and that pull towards the shadows has strengthened my resolve
to not be pulled in towards the bottom of the abyss...

Is it acceptance? Grace asks the question of whether the
fishing pole still has its' hooks sharp enough to go foraging in the
sea of forgetfulness.

Faith says that grace is sufficient for me in ready response...

Hope blows a cool wind on my flushed countenance in an
expectant hum.

...Love embraces them all and carries me back to the foot of the cross...

I fall once again to my knees under the weight of guilt for what I did not knowingly cause...

My weeping summons the touch of the savior; and softens the ground of my soul to respond to His voice in sweet anticipation of fellowship.

Of Chains and Wings...

I have been pondering the mercy of God these days. I tend to ponder and brood as I travel through my days in my attempt to classify and make sense out of it all...hoping at this stage of my life to neatly file each experience and thought into its'proper place in my inner filing system.

How I long for life to be that neat. In fact, it is not. I am hedged in but not left for dead; held by the Father yet not smothered. I am thinking that the title of this piece says much about the different seasons of the walk of faith. Let me take a little of your time and share from my present perceptions...

Circumstances, self-image, and stale vision all seem to conspire to chain us to old wineskins that have seen their share of scratches and leaks. Those chains are sometimes loose, and sometimes they are tight enough to force flesh to grow over them as they are incorporated into the body. Images of these prisons and stop signs cloud our vision to the mercy of God.

I think God has His ways of cutting those chains and giving us wings to soar with the eagles. Perhaps it is in experiencing community in the body of Christ. The chains of marred lenses come off as our perceptions are questioned; freeing us to move towards the identity in Christ that is waiting for us at the feet of Jesus. Perhaps freedom is found in a new direction taken as a result of having our lenses cleaned in this way.

I will explore this theme in the days to come. Thanks for hanging out with me in the Land of Lynne.

Peace and a cup o'joy,
Lynne

Independence Day

I am sitting down at the computer and sorting out the thoughts and images sprinting through my gray matter. This is what happens on a daily basis as I sit at my computer and write. The neurons in my brain are up there having a party and tossing around my thoughts like hot potatoes. Once in a while, the potato drops into the laundry basket and has to go into the washing machine. This stops the game for a moment and gives my neurons a "take 5" until I finish filing the rotten potato.
They resume their thought-tossing and I resume writing.

I did warn you that I was a character when starting this blog. Sit back and enjoy it and I promise it wont hurt a bit.

The neurons toss thoughts all day long. I sneak in and grasp a few things to write onto the screen and sneak back out. I know that I should keep a closer eye on those potatoes, but they get away from us and tend to burn holes in the gray matter. As a result, I get sidetracked and drift along in a time warp until I figure out what hit me and return to the land of the living...

The only thing this post has to do with Independence Day is this: I praise God that He has allowed me the freedom to sit at my computer and write like I do. That freedom is a result of the original Independence Day struggle as well as the day that Christ died on the cross. Jesus' death and ressurrection has freed us from the bondage of sin. All we have to do is accept his gift by faith and He comes to us with the gift of freedom.

Thank God this Independence Day for his marvelous gift.


Blessings and a cup o'joy to you all,

Lynne

Good Morning, Lord!

Good Morining, Lord...
It's me again.

You know my heart,
and yet you still want to hear from me...
I know I am getting the better end of the deal
and offer up my thanks for it...

I think I am stuck again, Lord.
I need You to pull me out of the quicksand again.
If you have to leave me here, I ask that you keep my head up
...above sand level...

Joy and heaviness mix together to bake up a sweet ache
that threatens to grow claws...
You are faithful to provide a way for me to make it from
point "A" to point "B". I trust You to do that for me once more.

Is it something I am doing wrong?
Where is my part in this fiasco painted in blue?
Forgive me, Lord, and show me how I can do my part
to return more fully to the land of the living...

Morning will come, I can rest assured...
...but if a day is as a thousand years to you,
what measure of time are you thinking of?
In my time, Lord, I want the claws pulled out of my spirit
so that I can soar again.

Call me greedy...
I desire to live without cloaks
and move into the place where I should be?

I ask Your blessing on this day.
Do with me what You will, Lord.
I offer myself up for your service.
Let me be a part of Your plan today
as You keep me in the palm of Your hand.

So be it.
Amen.

Time Warp

Walking along,
the present melts into
a patch of life
previously lived and stuck
between rewind and play...

grasping for the root,
I catch the thought by the tip of the tail;
losing my grip on it as
the last attempt is made to take it captive...

familiar winds and flashes of lightning
move in to manipulate the landscape of my soul.
In my hand is the sword I will use to fight back
the descending cloak and pray for the Spirit to rain once more.
"It is written" worked for Jesus...

A song arrives to empower my will;
lifting my spirit to the
remembrance of coming joy.

Hold on...Hold on..."this too shall pass"..
"...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.."
"Rejoice in the Lord always..."
"Jesus wept."

Time passes...

I am still here.

...and I hear the echoes in my mind of those who have travelled the time warp before me.

Breathe...

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Rejoice always,Pray without ceasing,in every thing give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.


Psalm 89: 15-17
Blessed are the people who know the joyful sound! They walk, O Lord, in the light of your countenance. In Your name they rejoice all day long, and in Your righteousness they are exalted. For you are the glory of their strength, And in Your favor our horn is exalted.


I Breathe...
and celebrate the work of His hands.
I stand upon the rock
and feel the ocean spray tickling my skin,
and the breeze rushing into my lungs
to rejuvinate flesh and spirit after the fire burned
... Breathe...
and look up to the night sky with the brightness of eye
that is ushered into the spirit by the promise of night passing.
the cloak of nightfall has its' purpose in the Father's hands.

I breathe..
and know that He is God. My maker and re-creator when I bring Him my pieces
in anticipation of His willingness to put them back together again.
...Hands lifted to heaven reflect the loosened grip of clay on that which
rightly belongs to the Potter.

I breathe a prayer,
breathing in forgiveness...
...and pushing out the debris of self-seeking and pride...

He whispers His word in my spirit and writes upon the tablet of my soul. Images of freedom and elegant grace enfold me as a purple cascade of Spirit rain...
The imprints remain for now of fishing hook scars and memories of cloak and
claws...yet the fragrance of grace lingers and binds up the wounds that have bound me
to the edge of blackness...

He breathes His spirit on me again and makes the dry bones to rise again;
they rise in triumph,
they rise in joy,
and they rise in fresh anticipation of eventual wholeness for His purposes.

He rejoices over me with singing, and the sound is sweeter than honey.

Of Words and Phrases...

There are those folks in the world that don't feel passionate about expressing themselves. They don't see the point in writing or creating something to enjoy and share with others. There are those souls out there loose in the world that decry the act of artistic expression as a waste of time. Why does anyone feel driven to write, paint, take photos, or do anything creative? If it doesn't return a paycheck, then what is the motivation behind it? I have heard it said that there is a certain temperament of the artist that breeds a form of insanity...

Let me stand up and wave my hand and identify with those who get bitten by the desire to be creative. As for the temperament issue...I will simply say that I do not suffer from insanity...I enjoy it. Just kidding...the men in the white coats haven't caught up with me yet...Ok, ok...I will get serious and lay it out the reasons why some people have a passion for being creative.

Creativity, I believe, is a reflection of the divine spark within us. We were made in the image and likeness of God. What did God do in Genesis? He created the heavens in the earth. Then, he created man...and He has had His hands full ever since...ok, ok...back to the subject at hand. I think those of us who are engrossed with experiencing the process of creating just like to fan the flames a bit more. Some of us are pyros(figuratively speaking, of course...). There is something exciting about bringing a concept out of the depths of your being and putting a "face" on it. It should be listed in the DSM-III as an addiction, but I am not going to formally submit it. I think it ties in with my earlier comment regarding the men in white coats...alright...I will go back to my point.

I do believe that there are some of us who just have to create whether we ever show another soul what we do or not. I have written letters to God on many occaisions and then destroyed them. He saw and understood, and that is what mattered. Other times, it is an absolute hoot to show what has emerged from the abyss of the soul to another person. A new part of the adventure of creating/writing is embarked upon when another human being experiences what I write through their eyes. It can be a good thing to climb out of your own head once in a while. The spirit of man shrinks and whithers when outside contact is not made periodically. There is only so much room in there for growth. Creating something in that room is necessary; and sometimes sharing it is even more necessary. It is similar to a small child drawing a picture and wanting to show someone what they did.

Creating is a joy. I can only try to imagine how God felt when He created the universe. While I do not think he sat back in a lounge chair and had a nice cold glass of iced tea; he must have felt some sense of accomplishment. Doesn't the verse in Genesis say, "And God saw that it was good"? I like to think that could be a way of saying, "Alright!". Sometimes the journey of creating something brings new revelation and insight that did not originate with me. Sometimes I don't know where I am going with a piece until I get to the end. (I can sense the cracks coming on now...I promise I will make a coherent point with this soon. I haven't kept you that long now...)The phrases and images mix altogether with old memories and concepts to form my word choices and mold what ends up on the screen. I feel as if I am talking to someone as I write.

We are all parts of the body of Christ. Some are feet, some are knees, etc. Every one of us has a place value; a value high enough for Christ to have died on the cross for us. I think God knew that we would get bored with ourselves if we were all the same. Variety is good because it makes the journey that much more fun. There is comedy in the body of Christ that counts my ribs. There is amazing ability that ushers us into the presence of the Lord. There is also an endless adventure in getting to know each other. Sometimes when I start thinking that I have a corner on weirdness; the Lord brings someone into my life who shows me their patch of oddity and I feel alright again. God bless the nuts. Make this a "be kind to nuts day" and you may just be blessed...

In returning to my point(and I do have one...), I want to say that creativity flows out of sticking with this habit of breathing in an earthsuit. It flows out of every spiritual gift and ability given to us by our creator. Some of us just have a few extra quirks in the works planted(or impaled)in us that make creating/writing almost an RDA for finding fulfillment.

I hope I have made a few coherent points. I ask for your mercy and a generous dose of grace if you feel that I have not done so. Come back another time anyway and let's see if I can nail down a topic then. I think we will both have fun either way.


Have a cup o'joy
and a dose of peace...

Lynne