Saturday, July 3, 2010

A poem for my mama

No Battle can I fight,
without His footing,
His words,

Blue sky was trying to escape,
from the snow-packed sky,
it almost made me laugh,
to see winter and spring fight.
A song called 'Pure' graced the morning,
because He has the power to strip away all,
making it bare,
to bring it back to life,
and that is my prayer.

To fear nothing more than the Lord,
my God.
His dance is called, 'Beautiful,'
He delights in the children He formed,
His embrace is near.

"To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone. On the white stone is written a new name that no one knows except the person who receives it." Revelation 2:17

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Butterfly on a Kitchen Counter...

Butterflies in full bloom are majestic, like little fairies
splatter-painted by God. I looked at a dead one last night, my room
mate found it on a bike trip. So intricately hand-crafted by the Lord,
that my mind began to creatively wonder, what caused this butterfly's
death? How long had it waited for that beautiful set of wings? It was
beautiful laying on that kitchen counter, but also out of place.
Truly, it belonged flying through the air, with magnificence on
Sometimes, our own stunning and wonder is kept at bay, as we let
ourselves or others relegate our beauty and prowess to inappropriate
places. Much like a delicate butterfly lying dead on a kitchen
counter. Our minds are sponges, absorbing the sensory info,
conversations, experiences, etc, throughout the day. A lot of these
things may lie to us, slowly eroding our ability to believe the Truth.
Slowly inhibiting our ability to fly.
Yet, there is a filter, if we choose it. Marvelously creative,
infinitely intelligent. Upon viewing some of His designs we might
think- 'Gross, who would craft an insect that lays in its own spit? Or
that sucks blood?' When we stay in these questions alone, we with
subtlety begin to shove our own wonder into a box. We limit. We crave
comfort and false understanding first.
Then we try to fly, but we find that little chunks of our wings are
missing. We can't see the whole picture, so we ignore what of the
picture we actually can see. If we can't understand God, then we make
Him to be smaller and less significant then is the Truth, or we ignore
His existence altogether. When this happens we are like a stunning
butterfly, lying dead on a kitchen counter. Forfeiting the wonder of
who we are in Him, for the perceived comfort of death.