Oh, how easily it slips your mind.
You sit rigid in your chosen pew, half-heartedly clapping your hands to the repeating renditions of faith.
Your mind wanders to less worthy places of your life, ignoring the merciful salvations of a great God.
How shyly you capture the words of the beautifully blessed speaker a righteous Savior put in your life, not only forgetting the devious places He's brought you from but also ignoring the shattered events He has entirely kept you from.
You've forgotten the firing spirit that first coursed through your burning veins upon relenting your beaten soul to God.
Instead you choose to merely let the fresh saints take your once coveted place in a praise-driven service.
You've forgotten the bold release you were granted from a cursed life, simply allowing a crawling time to take from you your desire to worship.
You've forgotten you're a chosen child of Him and it is but a given right and commanded blessing to heap gracious mounds of praise to the smiling King that shelters your days.
So now, with renewed might, remind yourself of the crowded ways you've come and softly shake your dormant praise loose.
Push all you have in tribute and sacrifice to the amazing Messiah who whispered a saving grace through your broken bones.
Forget not from where you've come but release yourself in fervent praise and race back to where you've belonged.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Mad To Be Saved
I've soon found myself no longer satisfied by the complacency that comes so frequently close in hand with my Christianity, but rather shaking in a fervered fever to no longer sit quietly still and wait for His perfect end.
A buried burning has crashed through my soul with a lovely, scalding sermon, pushing me to jump from a silent rest and rush into a brightened new day with a craving madness for all the singing truths my saintly God holds for me.
No longer do I lay in a darkened state, bruising through the murderous moments that would hold me down to a fighter's stance and keeping me meekly complacent against my holy callings.
Instead, with shining eyes and graceful determination, a white-hot passion shoots through my electric veins and signals my sinner's soul to fervently search for and capture all the beautiful salvations I have missed, all the blinding blessings I have screamed beyond in my wasted past.
I have become but a mad man for I now find myself simply and wholly mad to be saved, craving to be in Him, with Him, used only through Him.
My holy madness is clutched closely now. I need and want only to see it grow without bounds, rapturing all that I am and all that I was ever meant to be.
I, the made new maniac, am mad to be saved and in Him, it shall be simply yet mercifully so.
A buried burning has crashed through my soul with a lovely, scalding sermon, pushing me to jump from a silent rest and rush into a brightened new day with a craving madness for all the singing truths my saintly God holds for me.
No longer do I lay in a darkened state, bruising through the murderous moments that would hold me down to a fighter's stance and keeping me meekly complacent against my holy callings.
Instead, with shining eyes and graceful determination, a white-hot passion shoots through my electric veins and signals my sinner's soul to fervently search for and capture all the beautiful salvations I have missed, all the blinding blessings I have screamed beyond in my wasted past.
I have become but a mad man for I now find myself simply and wholly mad to be saved, craving to be in Him, with Him, used only through Him.
My holy madness is clutched closely now. I need and want only to see it grow without bounds, rapturing all that I am and all that I was ever meant to be.
I, the made new maniac, am mad to be saved and in Him, it shall be simply yet mercifully so.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Thievings of God
With a halting but determined cruise, you've coasted through life in your own selfish way, acquiring the pride and deepened holds of one who stands tall among shattered regrets and fiery temptations.
Despite the beatings of your crushing days, you refused to surrender.
Instead, you shook your head and sneered hard like a slack-jawed rebel, simply finding the worth of raising your hands in humbleness impossible to justify.
With a hardened head, you took your lashings of a lacking life, pushing an unsatisfied smile into an unbelieving world and limping along an empty and forgotten road.
Finally, when you had become but broken and trampled, you bowed to a known but ignored God, raising your bleeding hands in a surrendering and cracked plea, hoping for the mercy you had heard so much of.
Seeing you with raised, aching arms, the God of your yesteryear sneaked close, reaching deep into the pockets of your begging heart and swiftly stealing from you the trinkets of your wayward, smoldering ways.
With a mighty but tender hand, He relieved you of your heartache and pain, of your hollow pride and smiling lies. He pulled from you the mistakes that had tossed you to your current slum of wild bereavement and self-indulgence.
Now, empty of the treacherous deeds and harping have not's, you are allowed to float up among the bright, undying love of the the thieving God who took from you everything that had weighed so mightily upon you, praising and living in the shining compassion of a stolen but healed heart.
Despite the beatings of your crushing days, you refused to surrender.
Instead, you shook your head and sneered hard like a slack-jawed rebel, simply finding the worth of raising your hands in humbleness impossible to justify.
With a hardened head, you took your lashings of a lacking life, pushing an unsatisfied smile into an unbelieving world and limping along an empty and forgotten road.
Finally, when you had become but broken and trampled, you bowed to a known but ignored God, raising your bleeding hands in a surrendering and cracked plea, hoping for the mercy you had heard so much of.
Seeing you with raised, aching arms, the God of your yesteryear sneaked close, reaching deep into the pockets of your begging heart and swiftly stealing from you the trinkets of your wayward, smoldering ways.
With a mighty but tender hand, He relieved you of your heartache and pain, of your hollow pride and smiling lies. He pulled from you the mistakes that had tossed you to your current slum of wild bereavement and self-indulgence.
Now, empty of the treacherous deeds and harping have not's, you are allowed to float up among the bright, undying love of the the thieving God who took from you everything that had weighed so mightily upon you, praising and living in the shining compassion of a stolen but healed heart.
Mad to be Saved
I've soon found myself no longer satisfied by the complacency that comes so frequently close in hand with my Christianity, but rather shaking in a fervered fever to no longer sit quietly still and wait for His perfect end.
A buried burning has crashed through my soul with a lovely, scalding sermon, pushing me to jump from a silent rest and rush into a brightened new day with a craving madness for all the singing truths my saintly God holds for me.
No longer do I lay in a darkened state, bruising through the murderous moments that would hold me down to a fighter's stance and keeping me meekly complacent against my holy callings.
Instead, with shining eyes and graceful determination, a white-hot passion shoots through my electric veins and signals my sinner's soul to fervently search for and capture all the beautiful salvations I have missed, all the blinding blessings I have screamed beyond in my wasted past.
I have become but a mad man for I now find myself simply and wholly mad to be saved, craving to be in Him, with Him, used only through Him.
My holy madness is clutched closely now. I need and want only to see it grow without bounds, rapturing all that I am and all that I was ever meant to be.
I, the made new maniac, am mad to be saved and in Him, it shall be simply yet mercifully so.
A buried burning has crashed through my soul with a lovely, scalding sermon, pushing me to jump from a silent rest and rush into a brightened new day with a craving madness for all the singing truths my saintly God holds for me.
No longer do I lay in a darkened state, bruising through the murderous moments that would hold me down to a fighter's stance and keeping me meekly complacent against my holy callings.
Instead, with shining eyes and graceful determination, a white-hot passion shoots through my electric veins and signals my sinner's soul to fervently search for and capture all the beautiful salvations I have missed, all the blinding blessings I have screamed beyond in my wasted past.
I have become but a mad man for I now find myself simply and wholly mad to be saved, craving to be in Him, with Him, used only through Him.
My holy madness is clutched closely now. I need and want only to see it grow without bounds, rapturing all that I am and all that I was ever meant to be.
I, the made new maniac, am mad to be saved and in Him, it shall be simply yet mercifully so.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
A Blessed Healing
Through the softness of time's healing, this heart of mine has grown still, collecting a pauper's layer of dust.
With each long day that has passed, I have found myself no longer bleeding a broken heart's pain but rather feeling it slowly grow to a place of vibrancy and acceptance.
A blessed healing has wrapped my heart whole and allowed my eyes to see that an electric time of new beginnings have but come through a once shattered and lonely night.
With gentle hands and a pleasant growing smile, I grasp my meek and still vulnerable heart, shaking the heavy dust away.
No longer shall I hide the brilliance of the love I have to offer or the goodness I can prove to the one and only my God will provide.
No longer will I keep my mind and soul closed to the wondrous possibilities of a new and proven experience of sweet romance and kind temperance.
A fresh time of anointing has fallen to me and with these holy accommodations, I will be still and rest in reverence, waiting for the one true love He will allow.
For with His blessing finally coursing through my days, I will be able to love with an unrelenting brilliance that I have never known or shown.
With His smiling praise, I shall be the man she can love and cherish with no resistance, holding her close against my chest and protecting her from all that will be thrown against us.
My heart is now open and finally willing to be loved again.
It only waits for the righteous truth of love to flash itself in a blinding punch of wonderful calmness and blessing.
For this final and blazing act of assurance from my loving Creator, I am ready...
With each long day that has passed, I have found myself no longer bleeding a broken heart's pain but rather feeling it slowly grow to a place of vibrancy and acceptance.
A blessed healing has wrapped my heart whole and allowed my eyes to see that an electric time of new beginnings have but come through a once shattered and lonely night.
With gentle hands and a pleasant growing smile, I grasp my meek and still vulnerable heart, shaking the heavy dust away.
No longer shall I hide the brilliance of the love I have to offer or the goodness I can prove to the one and only my God will provide.
No longer will I keep my mind and soul closed to the wondrous possibilities of a new and proven experience of sweet romance and kind temperance.
A fresh time of anointing has fallen to me and with these holy accommodations, I will be still and rest in reverence, waiting for the one true love He will allow.
For with His blessing finally coursing through my days, I will be able to love with an unrelenting brilliance that I have never known or shown.
With His smiling praise, I shall be the man she can love and cherish with no resistance, holding her close against my chest and protecting her from all that will be thrown against us.
My heart is now open and finally willing to be loved again.
It only waits for the righteous truth of love to flash itself in a blinding punch of wonderful calmness and blessing.
For this final and blazing act of assurance from my loving Creator, I am ready...
Sunday, September 20, 2009
A Mighty Praise
The drums crash through the crowded structure, awakening the feet, hands and spirits of those who stand in reverence.
A bounce and a shake start to ripple through us all, our feet unable to keep from being still.
We beat our hands to the steady rhythm, singing our praises to a true King as loud as we're able.
The bass thunders in, kicking heavy and thumping against the soul, each thick string pulling our praise that much further from underground.
A mighty praise has been unleashed upon us and we gladly accept it with a deepened satisfaction. Together, we dance, clap and sing our holy song to the One who gave His all for each of us.
With arms stretched high to a loving heaven, we pound our feet into the beaten carpet over and over again, smiles on our faces and whispers of greatness on our lips.
A mighty praise is falling upon us now and forever.
A bounce and a shake start to ripple through us all, our feet unable to keep from being still.
We beat our hands to the steady rhythm, singing our praises to a true King as loud as we're able.
The bass thunders in, kicking heavy and thumping against the soul, each thick string pulling our praise that much further from underground.
A mighty praise has been unleashed upon us and we gladly accept it with a deepened satisfaction. Together, we dance, clap and sing our holy song to the One who gave His all for each of us.
With arms stretched high to a loving heaven, we pound our feet into the beaten carpet over and over again, smiles on our faces and whispers of greatness on our lips.
A mighty praise is falling upon us now and forever.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Scars
The blackened ink sits beneath my skin, ingrained and unmoving, permanent for the rest of my life.
Each marking gleams to me, reminding me of the times in which I felt they were needed and craved upon.
I wear most with shame now, each independent brand standing in tainted tribute to love's lost and callings claimed.
I look upon them with a sorrowful, watering eye as they remind me of my brutal fights and wearing battles, times of beating myself alone in a cold darkness and begging for peace.
Even with my righted life now brazenly and poetically pointed toward the good and holy times I've been absent in, the visible scars of my past shine with unrelenting focus, evidence of where I've been but not where I'm going, of who I was but not of who I've become, of my dastardly failures but not of my coming victories.
Scarred yet now willfully barren and internally clean, I have relented my days to You, praying for Your ever-lasting peace to wash me new.
No longer the holder of a desperate need to add and hide my battle wounds in plain sight, I proudly and humbly display my inked and bleeding scars for You, announcing the greatness and mercy one may posses when they turn their meaningful scars of yesteryear to You.
Each marking gleams to me, reminding me of the times in which I felt they were needed and craved upon.
I wear most with shame now, each independent brand standing in tainted tribute to love's lost and callings claimed.
I look upon them with a sorrowful, watering eye as they remind me of my brutal fights and wearing battles, times of beating myself alone in a cold darkness and begging for peace.
Even with my righted life now brazenly and poetically pointed toward the good and holy times I've been absent in, the visible scars of my past shine with unrelenting focus, evidence of where I've been but not where I'm going, of who I was but not of who I've become, of my dastardly failures but not of my coming victories.
Scarred yet now willfully barren and internally clean, I have relented my days to You, praying for Your ever-lasting peace to wash me new.
No longer the holder of a desperate need to add and hide my battle wounds in plain sight, I proudly and humbly display my inked and bleeding scars for You, announcing the greatness and mercy one may posses when they turn their meaningful scars of yesteryear to You.
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