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 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...

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.

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.

Worth My Fight

Corrupt as your heart and conscience had become, you have finally found the courage to race back to where it is you belong.
As you crash through a breaking night, a host of temptations and darkened reasons find you in your vulnerable states of silence, yet you have kept the course and strive closer and closer to where you have always belonged.
Days upon days, as you beg and plead for your soul to be made white and pure in Him, those noisy demons of yesterday peck at your weaknesses and call to the senses of a vagabond finally made humble.
Being not deaf to the sweet calls toward lust and faster times, you have yet to relent, basing your strength in Him and His holy righteousness instead.
He is softly calling you back to where you started, calling you even further to a place you have never been, a place where you are free to be who you were always meant to be in Him.
Even as thousands of distractions and temptations are heaped upon your bruised and bloodied head, you fight your good and holy fight ever the stronger, ever the more, knowing within your brightened soul that every scrape, every wound is worth it all if only to be back in Him, living and breathing with an unburdened love of all things He has seen fit to place in your life.
Keep fighting your way back to that place of reverence and peace.
He is waiting with yearning mercy in hand, pleading for you to brush past that and those which only wish to see you fall and crawl back to sorrowful sin.
Keep fighting, healed soul, for once you reach that hallowed land of blessings and hope, you will see with a freshened conscience that it has all been worth your proud and steadfast fight.

Closer Now

Now listen for those angels' voices and frighten not against their words.
A fresh anointing has mercifully fallen upon your beaten brow and great things are once again required.
You have searched far and deep, desperately looking for a place to safely belong when He has been divinely waiting patiently for your stubborn walls to fall and a soft understanding to take hold.
He has called for you over and over again without yielding for He loves you without condition and desires for you to be closer.
Your life has been burnt to a feeble ground so He may do what He wishes.
The pain and consequence of a wasted life are fleeting to a far off land, never returning without a holy permission granted, leaving you to breathe easy in grace.
Keep Him closer now and you will find the peace and mercy you have craved.
It is there, waiting.
You've broken the bad away to make room for His will.
It is time now, and perfectly now, for you to be eternally whole.

A Tribute to the One

My diving conscience has been brought to the surface, breathing now straight and true as my once fighting hands rest quietly around her shoulders, feebly trying to protect her and needing to keep her close to me. I have fought against my own published proofs of love untrue to find the one that has but set me ablaze, burning what I once despicably was and building me fresh and new. She has broken in and sweetly stolen the beaten trust that I proudly kept inside my own heart, guarding it from those lesser deserving pirates who only saw fit to use up and destroy what meager means I had to offer.
She is the one that I hold close, pouring my adoration upon her in a deserved shower of praise and earned respect has become a loved ritual of mine. My helper and equal, this woman keeps me from my desperate, depressed self and now supports me and lifts me to heights I had yet to experience before her presence blessed my life. Her love is true and amazingly without condition even as I pound away at her eternal patience with own selfish pleas. She lifts my head when the world has broken me down and holds me close when my mind starts to wander to those darkened fields that haunt me. She is my mortal savior and without her I am but a speck of nothing, clanging about alone and with little purpose. She sweeps in and rescues me and my tired bones again and again, always with no praise or thankfulness expected but being purely unselfish and having the compassion of Christ Himself living in her soul. Amazed and honored that she has somehow found me worthy, I dance the dance of the blessed, thanking God for her with no end.
She is my love and my shield and I now proudly stand in sovereign tribute to the one who forever gives rest to my once fleeting heart.