Run Often, Not on a Cajun

A small article I wrote for small newsletter. All is in good fun...enjoy!

I say this for your health. Your benefit. Heck, I’m sayin’ it for your safety. Take it from a boy who grew up in the deep south; who experienced all the folklore, mysteries and rumors the coast-land has to offer.

If doctors could prescribe advice, this would be one wisdom-pill that everyone would swallow. I’m goin’ to give you one reason why running often is good. If you live down south, you’re goin’ to eat good. Real good. I’m talkin’ put-some-food-on-your-forehead-your-tongue-will-slap-your-brains-out-tryin’-to-get-to-it good. Heh. I’m pullin’ up ma britches and wipin’ ma mouth just thankin’ ‘bout tha good stuff. Hold on... reeeeelin’ back to reality.

My whole point is this: eatin’ the southern foods will cause you to go runnin’ every day or having a body mass that’s a little bit more than you and the people you’re around (ha) are comfortable with. So, there’s the “Run often” part.

I shouldn’t even have to say this next part, but if you do go runnin’, make sure you don’t run on any cajuns. Cajuns are crazy. Now, don’t get me wrong, they’re fun as I’ll get out; they’re just crazy. They aren’t scared of heights; they eat boudin; they’ll wrestle alligators; snatch up opossums; fish at any moment; die for LSU and they’re ready to fight at the drop of a crawfish. You want them to be your friend. So, just think about what would happen if you ran on one. Nothing good.

What does this have to do with us, all the way in San Antonio? Well, the food here is good. Real good. And because of recent events that have affected the southern coast-lands, more and more people are moving this way. Which could translate to more and more Cajuns.
So, if I could tell you one thing, it would be...

That has made all the difference

He could have told me that all roads no longer led to Rome. I walked down one right into a yellow wood where it diverged. I would have been sorry that I could not travel both, but after following the one less traveled by, I realized why it was probably less traveled by, and I got my chance to travel the other. It would have made all the difference to just go with the well-worn way, but like most things these days, it seemed promising but went nowhere.

At the risk of sounding like someone who has no revelation, let me say that I sincerely intend to speak literally as to inspire your understanding, friend. You see, he could have told me that all roads no longer lead to Rome, but then what would I have done but gone nowhere until it was told to me which road actually did lead to Rome. Instead, I set out and followed each path, trail, highway, byway and road with the confidence that I was on my way to Rome.

Misguided confidence. Unrealistic optimism. Tender-footed, green, arrogant naivety.
OR
Inexhaustibly patient. Endless sense of adventure. Enjoying the journey, seasoned traveler, living life and learning to love it.

We went walked through deserts, jungles, cities, villages, by lakes, over mountains, through valleys, under bridges. I think we rolled a few times. Caught myself flying at one point. Or falling, it's hard to say.

We? Turns out he just wanted to walk together. Abba, Father. He never left me.

Three Perspectives: A Cobbler, Butcher and Candlestick Maker

The cobbler bares his toes, because he knows,
that just because he covers others feet,
it does not mean he has to keep his
own from breathing.

The butcher eats no meat because, he sees the blood
that pours from a pig is not differentiated
from blood of the innocent
and He becomes sick.

The candlestick maker uses no wicks,
he noticed that when given a choice people snuff out the wicks
and would rather live life in darkness and yet
he still profits.

You've got to look

It is the glory of kings to search it out.

What is great often goes unnoticed while what is mediocre is celebrated. It is a characterisitc of true Greatness to let itself be discovered. It is part of the Way. Be wary of someone or something who is quick to parade themselves or their accomplishments. There is a time for Greatness to be celebrated, but if it is you or something you have done, stay quiet and allow another the glory of seeking it out. They will be so thrilled, their excitement will not be suppressed and you can ride into the city on the back of humilty, knowing you are ready for this next phase.

In the mean time, while you are waiting, search for the greatness in others and celebrate it.

Tired Songs Should Wake Us Up

Take a step back and see if you can listen to the radio at once. Press that seek button and pass through all the stations. They are all the same. Different maybe in styles, beats or melodic tones, but they are all driven by some monotonous pulse of broken, cynical, searching, love-thirsty people. Every now and then we stumble on something that is "fresh", but its freshness fades from repeated plays and soon that song has become tired and worn from our human drive to have something fresh and new, something that breathes life. As G.K. Chesterton says, its because we have sinned and grown old. But there is a hope, which is why we so desperately look for it in every song or sound.

There is One who breathes Life, who is Life. He breathed Life into Abram and Sarai, and they became Abraham and Sarah, and gave birth to Isaac. Ezekiel saw Him make dried skeletons have new muscles, tendons and flesh, and then this Breath of Life came through and they came alive. When He became a man, He carried this freshness and Life wherever He went, causing men who physically had this decay on their bodies to be whole and new. Then he went to the Cross to take on the source of this decay and He became the source of it. He became that which caused death and weariness and decay. He who knew no sin, became sin. As He was in the grave, this Breath of Life swept in and He came alive again, not only taking care of the source of this decay but also wiping out the results of this decay which is Death.

He is Life. If you want Life, if you want to know Life wherever you go, you can know Him. It is our job to create and to innovate. When you walk with Jesus, this Breath of Life is all over you and touches what you do so that it carries a freshness and brings life to your work.

Apathetic Monotony or Insatiable Delight

The excitement before a great adventure is always thrilling. What is truly a gift, is when each day becomes an adventure.

"Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."
— G.K. Chesterton

Here comes the Joy!

Raccoon encounter #2...no dancing this time.

This is a continuation of my previous story of triple-dodging a raccoon. It just so happened, that only couple days after I danced with the raccoon, I saw another one in almost the exact same spot. Now, naturally, I was feeling a little bolder. I was probably still on cloud nine from my dance a couple nights before. And here, right in front of my path is ANOTHER raccoon! In all probability, it was the same exact one. It was hard to tell because this one had its face buried in a trash can. So, at first, I just watched the little guy eat.
It gets better. It left the one trash can and went to another. So, I followed him to the next. There was something going on in my mind as I was watching and following this critter. The poor guy was hungry...and having no luck finding any crumbles in the trash and I was thirsty...thirsty for some excitement involving this natural born thief. He went to another. As I watched him go to this trash can, a plan hatched in my mind. Yes, exactly. It hatched. I realized that I wanted to touch this raccoon.
I pictured myself grabbing it as it stuck its head into the bin, but the picture that unrolled in my mind consisted of me turning my head away and holding the raccoon as far away from my body as I could, while the raccoon made unusual noises, wriggled and squirmed, clawing my arms like a farmer hoes his garden. There would be no grabbing this thing. However, during all of this thinking, I had been inching closer to Reginald, which is the name that I have just given to the raccoon.
I was two feet, TWO FEET, away from this amazing masked critter, Reginald. He looked at me, but the hunger in his eyes pushed away all fear in his bones, and he stuck his masked face into the garbage can. Politely and eloquently, I extended my hand towards its body. I am physically shaking with excitement and anticipation. If someone were to walk by me, they might have thought I was having a seizure. I don't really know what I was planning on doing. After I had decided I would not grab Reginald, I ceased to come up with a plan B. I did know that the rarity of the opportunity that sat before me was mind-numbing.
I extended my hand a little closer. My arm is jolting up and down with the rapidity of an automatic shotgun that is pointed at the ground. In all likelihood it would have registered as a 4.0 earthquake on the richter scale. I have a smile on my face that no professional window washer from New York could have wiped off. My hand extends a little further and--the only picture I had in my mind was Reginald, wildly turning around, showing its teeth and gnawing on my hand because it couldn't find anything in the trash can. I am right outside the library. Anyone could be passing by, but nobody is. Probably for my demise.
Reginald is feasting away or looking desperately for some leftover sushi scraps. I have no idea what it was looking for.
I POKED THE RAVENOUS RACCOON!! It didn't even turn around or pull its head out of the trash bin. So I poked it again, turned around like a champ and walked off with some bounce in my step, feeling like Napoleon Bonaparte when he took the crown out of the Pope's hand and placed it on his own head.

You've heard of the artful dodger? Well, friend...

I am the artful double-dodger.

For my reader, let me explain the "double-dodge." It's a skill that many possess and do not even know it. Children and adults alike take part in this art and billions have no idea. People are exposed to it from an early age in the form of "playing chicken". Now, this is a far-cry from the skill of double-dodging, but it is where we see the first beginnings. I will unfold the workings of a double-dodge.

As young children grow into older children, they will, no doubt, have to get up to sharpen a #2 pencil while in school.

Let the reader understand, that this part of childhood is inevitable and must be undertaken by all, legible handwriting or not. It is also inevitable that during one of these secretly loved trips to the sharpener, the child will "run into" another, who is returning from the little monster who eats the wood shavings. It is during this encounter (and innumerable others like it), that children are exposed to the "double-dodge."

First, one will go left and the other goes right. It even sounds good on paper, but his left is the other's right. The first dodge has failed. Once the two feet hit the ground, eye contact is made. The eye contact in between the first and second dodge is very important. If they can read the other's mind and pass each other on the second attempt, the rest of the sharpening excursion will be carried out with whistling and gladness of heart. The odds are, however, that both children attempt to pass by on the other side, unable to read the other's eyes. The reading of eyes is not taught in most contemporary schools, unlike phonics or mathematics or pecking orders.

Both children then swing the back foot forward and the feet almost touch. The eye contact is still held and little minds are racing trying hard to not make it awkward and both parties show a quick smile accompanied by a slight nod.

Now the dance is almost over. Whichever party has the most manners (I think this is silently decided on during the "reading of the eyes" or lack thereof) will step aside, swing their arms in the desired direction of their worthy opponent and maybe even give a slight bow. The dance has ended and the double-dodge has been completed.

Note that no words have been exchanged, because it is an unspoken rule, and for all we know, forbidden, to exchange any words until after one is on their way.

Now that you know the art of the double-dodge and how it comes about, be encouraged to know that I have been perfecting this art, honing my skills in it for several years. I have intentionally been the cause of many double-dodge dances. I thoroughly enjoy them and have tried to spread the joy to many of my close friends. My best moments, is when I could prolong the double-dodge into a triple-dodge. Only once have I ever completed a quadruple-dodge. Amazing. And only once have I ever been in any such dodging dance with a raccoon, and it graced me with a triple.

You have been incredibly patient with my rambling explanations, so, friends, here is my story:

I triple-dodged a raccoon. Not double-dodged, but triple dodged. We were practically, theoretically, physically and emotionally two-stepping.

I was walking towards my college's campus coffee shop. Even though, I was not going to buy any coffee, at the time, it is what I was doing. Now, raccoons are a common occurence on this campus. They are so common, that even with their masks you can recognize them. Ironically, if they were to remove the masks, we wouldn't be able tell one from the other.

As I was walking towards the coffee shop, I hear one of these masked-bandits in a trash can. I look up and see that he would have to run by me in order to make it to his getaway. That was his only mistake and it worked out to my benefit. I approached it and it hears me. Then it sees me. I'll be honest, I wanted to catch it. I had already chased one across a parking lot, but that one was gone before I started running. This one...this one was right where I wanted him. He knew it, too. He jumps off the trash can. We are about 30 feet away from each other. My feet are planted and his paws are tensed. I could see it.

Obviously, I start tip-toeing toward it slowly, arching my back and bending my arms like a T-Rex. This is so he doesn't think I am moving towards it. My approaching skills are not as honed as my double-dodging skills. The raccoon immediately recognizes that I am approaching it and begins to run towards me. I get out of stealth mode and brace myself. It tried to go right, thus I went left.

And the rest is pretty predictable. We completed the triple-dodge and then, being the more civilized of the two, I stepped aside and bowed graciously as it sped to its getaway.

The bird and the boy

The boy sat in his study, and strangely enough, his window was open. Autumn had come quickly, but this was not the expected weather that autumn normally brings. The rain and muggy air stifled any of the crispness surrounding the fall days. That's why it is strange that the boy had his window open. Not exactly the kind of weather that breeds creativity.
Insignificantly, a bird perched on his window sill. Seeking shelter from the rain, no doubt. The boy dropped his head and continued scibbling doodles on his piece of boring paper. The bird hopped a little closer to the lad, trying to be discreet so as not to startle him and cause him to run away. The boy, thinking he noticed a movement out of his periphrial, looked up. But, there the bird sat staring intently into the drops of water. The eyes drop back to his ever-scribbling hand and the bird, seeing its opportunity comes a little closer. This continues, until the bird is practically perched on the dull boy's arm. It seems the rain and muggy air had stifled the boy's observing powers as well.
The bird could hardly contain its excitement. Here it is, sitting on the shoulder of an actual wild boy. These are dangerous creatures, known for killing two birds with one stone. Overcoming its excitement, it tweeted something into the boy's ear.
The boy arose. The bird flew out the window. The boy walked downstairs and sat down at the dinner table.
"How did you know it was time to eat?" Mum asks.
"A little bird told me," says the dull boy.

Roasted Duck: Recollecting Solemn Happenings Over a Quaint Meal of Duck

It’s 0900 hours. I am sitting in my mother’s dining room eating a roasted duck.
Last night I saw a party of midgets running across the street towards the lake that sits in the middle of our small town. I can remember them laughing like little children and throwing balloons filled with tomato juice at each other. Come to think of it, they might have been children. I don’t really remember. It could have just been their shadows I saw.
I’m diving into this duck now with a fervor that would have filled Paul Newman with so much glee, he would have come out with a new Fun Duck Salad Dressing.
There was a tiny man on the streets last night who also watched the group of midget children running. He was a strange looking man. He carried a lunch pail and a pair of long green socks. His hair was as red as the tomato sauce in the balloons and came down on his shoulders. He kept looking at me, jumping from one leg to the other and mumbling something that sounded like “Give me some flap jacks, kid, or I’ll eatcha!"
Crumbling Christmas trees! This duck is good.

Behold, He stands

He stands at the door. He knocks. If I open it, well, I'm eating dinner. He will come in and eat with me. He will see all I am. He will know me fully. That’s why no one eats dinner with anyone. If I open the door, though, I will know Him. If I invite Him into my place with all its waste and smell...well, He came here. He said I would know Him fully. His, all He has is mine if I just answer his knock and let Him in to eat with me. Then I will get to eat with Him. The trade is so much better for me.

My house is old and filled with pictures, framed memories of the lives of people I have hurt. The pictures on my walls are cracked reflecting all my relationships I've had in the past. All my masks and different costumes that I wear outside are tossed in the corner. When I eat, it’s just me. No dressing up. No masks. Me. But He is here. He wants to know me, and not just know me but know me fully. I don’t really know what He means. It scares me. I am not sure what it will look like, but He keeps knocking. He is knocking still. So persistant, but not pressing. I don’t feel rushed to answer it. He just called my name. I heard Him. The door opens by my hand. It’s time. I want to know Him.

As we sit down, I wonder: He came all the way to my home. He stood there and knocked for, I don’t know how long. He called out for me. I wouldn't do that for another person. People walking along the street, eyeing me as I am knocking and yelling for a strange person. How far did He have to come I wonder? If He came here for me, how far would He go for me? How far has He already gone?

He knows me. He sees it all. I think he knew before He came what I would be like...just another one. I'm wrong. He wants me to come with Him. There is a place in his Father's house waiting for me. It's time for me to know Him. He's going to show me how far He has come; we are going to walk back together. I can’t go in my clothes though. He says I need new clothes. He reaches into his bag and pulls out white clothes. He reaches to pull of my tattered shirt. I try to tell Him that it won’t come off; that I've worn this since I can remember; that I thought it was clean and fresh at one time, but then it started to smell terribly, and it turned a nasty color; that each time I tried to wash it, it would get worse; that I could never take it off which is why I sold all I had and even myself for costumes and masks. He insists on taking it off. It's impossible though. He doesn't seem worried about my opinions. No one ever was. His persistence has carried over from the knocking. It didn’t stop at the door, obviously. He wasn’t put off by the stench in the house or by me. He wasn’t shocked by my pictures. He is relentless.

He rips off one sleeve with such power I thought my arm had fallen off and my body had gone through my sand floor. The pain and rawness was almost unbearable. After I opened my eyes, His arm is the first thing I see and it is dark red with blood. My arm is off and there's all my blood, I think. But my arm is still there, but it is fresh and clean. Cleaner than when I was first born. But how-- He rips my other arm. Squinting through the pain, I see the same result. My arm is brand new, even newer than new. His other arm is now covered in blood, but I don’t think its mine anymore. He is bleeding, where I should be. He rips my chest and it tears down but gets stuck on my heart. It was like sticking a shovel into the ground and hitting a rock. Oh, the immense pain that came with each tug. He grabbed my shirt-skin with both hands on either side of my heart and pulled two sharp times. I couldn’t take it. The very core of me was being gutted and wrenched from me. My eyes gaze pleadingly into His, but I see that there is pain in His eyes deeper than mine. I realize that with each pull and tear, He has felt it more than me. He is taking most of the pain. There is an endurance in His eyes and I know that love endures all things. And with one final pull and twist He wrenches out my heart. I tried to scream. I wanted to scream. But the cry came from His lips and from the very depths of His eternal being. I knew my cry would have been shallow and insufficient for the pain. My eyes glance at His chest and it is soaked in blood. It should be mine. It’s too dark and rich, carrying such life in it. He continues to tear and rip off my old, worn clothes. Each tear reveals new born skin leaving a fragrance that is crisp my nose and lungs, stinging as I breathe in.

Then He takes all the rags and skin and with His bleeding hands, he puts it on Himself. He Himself carried my sorrows. I am weak. He holds out His hand and there's my heart. But it is alive and powerfully beating. It’s larger than before and almost jumping out of His hands as He places it in me. He looks at me and tells me it is done. The rags are gone and His clothes are stained with blood. He places the white clothes on me that I had seen before. As we walk out of the house, I don’t look back. I know Him in part. He is Jesus. His clothes are red with blood and mine are white and clean. As we talk, I suddenly fall, but He picks me up. Frantically, I check the clothes to see if they are stained. They are not. I know that if I should fall hundreds of times, they will always stay white because they are His. But I don’t wish to fall anymore. I want to talk with Him. I want to know Him. We are walking together and He will show me how far He has come. I have seen a little and know in part, but one day, I will know Him as He knows me: fully.

--
This is eternal life, to know the true God, and the one whom You sent, Jesus Christ.

Change.

It starts with yourself.

We have a plague of planks in our eyes and all we can focus on are the specks in your neighbor's eye. Things are not black and white. They are light and dark. If we want to see a revolution, it won't start in the government. It won't start with the authorities. It will start in our own lives. The thoughts that we think have to be revolted. Everyone is so quick to grab on to a cause, to feel like they are doing something with purpose that does something good for another person. I begin to wonder if it sounds like a clanging cymbal to His ears. Could the answers we are looking for really be found in a Man?

When time ceases, He still increases

Let this slip back into your mind, the thoughts of memories and the vapored times. Vapored times that are streams of smoke, dancing off of the pulses of light that shine through the different eye-glassed windows. If you reach out your fingers to catch one stream, it vanishes suddenly as when you awake from a dream. When something so fleeting is so constant, it is easily overlooked or feared. If the day is only lived for the events of that day, then the vanities in that day will be filled to the brim. Too often people tilt this glass of momentary vanity, drinking and eating for tomorrow they could die. There is an aspect of time that is often ignored. It is not the past or the present or the future. It is the aspect when the vapors that rise, symbolizing time, shall cease to rise at all and all the vapors that had risen before, all the streams from every era, culminate and gather in this moment. It had been a constant crescendo. All thought that the vapors were fleeting, but they were just seating themselves before the One. So each day must be lived, each to its fullest and the day that is fullest lived is the one that is lived with a eye on the eternal moment when time ceases completely and people stop trying and rest in the be-ing. 

Faith is a good fight.

We are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith to the preserving of the soul.
Whatever is born of God overcomes the world, and this is the victory that has overcome the world-- our faith.

Let us walk and live in a manner worthy of the calling we have received. We are born of the Spirit. Born of God. Born from above. He has overcome the world. Greater is he who is in me than he who is in the world. We are born of God. Sons of God and He is our elder brother. Through faith in Him, we will overcome and receive what he has for us when he returns.

In Quietness and Rest is Your Strength

We are prone to think, for example, that converse with Christian brethren, and the general round of Christian activity, especially when we are much busied with preaching the Word and visits to inquiring or needy souls, make up for the loss of aloneness with God in the secret place. We hurry to a public service with but a few minutes of private prayer, allowing precious time to be absorbed in social pleasures, restrained from withdrawing from others by a false delicacy, when to excuse ourselves for needful communion with God and his word would have been perhaps the best witness possible to those whose company was holding us unduly! How often we rush from one public engagement to another without any proper interval for renewing our strength in waiting on the Lord, as though God cared more for the quantity than the quality of our service!

Stewards and Oak Trees

Truth is a Person. Jesus said, "I am the Truth." He has sent to us the Spirit of Truth, His Spirit. God has poured out his love into our hearts through the Spirit. Drink continually by meditating on Truth's Words and let His love burn into your heart and become the foundation of your thoughts. We have to be stewards of what the Almighty God gives us. Stewardship. He who has will be given more. To whom much is given, much is required. Be faithful in little and you will be given much. You will reap what you sow. God will not be mocked. God is not mocked.
Diligence, stewardship, faithfulness and discipline; all of them bound by enduring love.
Daniel the Prophet was given many gifts: wisdom, knowledge, and good-looks. He excelled in the king's court because he developed these gifts. He found favor with men because he developed his relationship with God and found favor with God. He was not after success, though, nor status in the the kingdom of man. He wanted to please the leader of the Eternal Realm who gave him much and therefore, required much. At the end of his life, God told him to enter His rest and receive his allotment. Paul would call it his reward or prize.
Jesus talked of talents. Don't hide them in the ground, but develop them, make them grow. We have to ability, because we are made in the image of God, to create to a certain extent. It does not happen without the hand of God, but we have to plant, water and nurture these gift-seeds he has given us. So that when this world ends, the gifts and talents we have developed will exponentially grow in eternity. We are made to rule and steward, to create the environment for things to grow and be able to live in. Adam was given that command in regards to the earth kingdom, Jesus gave that command regarding to Eternal Kingdom.
I want to hear from Father, "Enter into your rest and receive your reward." This life prepares us for The Life. God chooses to work through us and with us, here; why would He change when this world is over? The relationship with Him that we are developing and walking in will only grow when time is ended. I dont see why it would stop. He is the same yesterday, today and forever.
He has called us to be eternally with Him and He has given "stuff" to steward. We need to do it to our very best. Every deed and word will be brought to the light and judged; we want to be diligent and not found lacking. He has plans for us, let us reach the full potential of those plans. Our vision is "Oaks of Righteousness" and as long as we stay planted by the stream and keep drinking, we will grow there.

Conspiracy

There is a conspiracy,
but it is not one of foreign governments and underground leaders. It is a conspiracy for
you to find Truth. You will only find Him if you are looking for Him. You cant stumble
across Truth because things you stumble across, you just pick up and put into your
pocket. But when you are looking for something and you find it, well, it is jolting.
Partly because you thought you would never find it, but also because when you continue to
walk, you are not really looking anymore.

I dont mean to be abstract, because what I am talking about is very practical. It
is reality. It could be likened to looking at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel just
finished, with Michelangelo, its creator, standing right next to you. Maybe that is still
too far off and hard to relate with. It is being in the mountains and seeing the raw
majesty of them, and then feeling or coming to the realization, that its creator is next
to you. I think it is still too abstract. what I am talking about are little revelations
that you and I know didnt come from either of our minds. Realizing for the first time,
"Whoa, THAT is real love, thats not what I thought it was at all." You know it, because
it was dropped into your thoughts, and when it hit the ground, well, it is that jolt. You
might not have known you were looking for truth, but you are. And you know you are,
because instead of just shrugging off that little revelation, you kept it and walked away
different.

You were made to be loved. Shakespeare wrote and wrote about this. Story tellers
from all cultures have made stories about this hunger and passion to be loved and to
love. It is hard to have the right view on it though, right? Because they all say
something similiar and yet it is different. And we all have our different opinions about
the subject. That is why we need that dropped truth-nugget to anchor down our sheet-like
thoughts that flutter and flap in the winds of fads. You know when it hits because it is
like the plop of a rock into the water. It just settles. It settles into every aspect of your life. You know that time when you had to get
that paper done, or there was a ton of stuff you had to do in little to no time? Its
strange, but instead of your mind flapping in that anxious state, it will be settled and
held down by Him, Truth. He is the Person who created and formed you with a plan for you
because He loves you. Any area where you feel anxious all the time or afraid, all of
those little insecurities that you hide from people, or try to, when He steps
in--everything changes. Or when You say things to fit in and do things so that people
wont know you are afraid. Any area like that, from the small to the big, it will be gone
for good. Because when you are loved perfectly, there is no fear. You have had tastes of
that kind of love in relationships you have been in. Those were moments of "truth", where
you caught a glimpse of Him, you just didnt know it. During those moments, you had that
security of the other person's love and you werent afraid of anything. The only fear that
could come into that is the fear of losing that love from the other individual. The
presence of that fear just means you werent being perfectly loved, if you were, the fear
of losing the love would have dissolved.

It doesnt make sense to be calm when everyone
around is panicking, I know. But when you know Truth, He is the perfect love. Deep calls
to deep and when He drops a little revelation, or glimpse of Himself into the deep waters
of your soul, then everything around you is settled. Everything.
If you arent there yet, than just wait. If you are one who wants Truth, He will
find you. Its a conspiracy. I just know Him a little bit. When you find the nugget
though, you will know Him yourself, no one will have to tell you about Him anymore.

The sound of the Deep

I am looking down the side of my boat. Water is crashing against the side of it. I
am safe from the swelling sea, but I am not sure I will be in the next few
moments. Something deep inside of me seems to be resonating with the very soul of
the ocean, making me feel it would be safer outside of the boat in the raging
waters. But that would be madness.
The boat is rocking violently back and forth. I can understand now why it is
described as being tossed. I look out over the sea into the storm. This is a bad
storm and it seems like it will only get worse. Again I feel that escaping the boat
into the ocean is the thing to do.
I make myself stand on the firm ground of the boat and peer out into the madness.
Someone is walking towards me. Ha, now I know it is madness. Leaving the boat for
the water, its like leaving a nest during a hurricane. I am not going to do it. I've decided.
But there it--he--is again. Walking. I can barely stand because of the wind and
waves but he walks. It is as if he is from the depths of the water, where it is
cool and dark and quiet.
The boat gives a sudden jolt and nearly tips over. I am knocked down to my knees.
Something, I am not sure what, slams me in the back of the head. Its not as safe as
I thought in this boat. Safer than out there, but not as safe as I thought.
As I am pulling myself up I am hit with the same feeling that the deep soul of the
ocean is calling me. The terrible power shown on the surface of the water seems to
shrink when this deepness calls. Its strange but more comforting than the boat.
My eyes try to find the mysterious man. It isnt hard because he is still walking
straight towards me. He is with in calling distance, so I yell.
Wasnt much of a yell. He just looks at me.
I see his eyes are flashes, like flashes of fire that the water cannot quench. He
is walking and the waves cant rush over him.
Safety is no longer a concern. Now I am begging for the ocean to call to me again
so that I can join the man on the water. The wind and the storm had become the
backdrop and he is larger than life itself. Everything in me, the very depths of
me, wait for the deep to call.
"Get out and join me" When he opens his mouth, his voice thunders like thousands of
waterfalls, the foundations miles under the water seem to shake. the winds roar and
whip at my face and lightnings hit the water around the boat, but I am calm. I walk
to the side of the boat and look down the side of it. Water is crashing against the
side of it. My leg swings over. Now my other leg. I am sitting on the side of the
boat now.
His eyes flash and it burns my eyes. The fire seems to rush down my body consuming
the insides of me. My heart is burning a hole in my chest and the water can't
quench it. I drop down onto the water. Solid. Water is crashing around me, but I am
standing, it cant rush over me. I look and He beckons me to follow. He points into
the horizon.
There is a boat.

Let there be light.

The earth was formless and void. Darkness was over the earth covering it completely. Then the Maker spoke. He gave light permission to flood the darkness. Let it shine. As He pulls back the curtain for light, the darkness is vanquished.

Arise and shine for your light has come.

Darkness is over the earth; deep darkness covers the earth. The Maker spoke and this time, His Word became flesh. His dominion come. He pulls back the curtain for his Light to shine over physical and spiritual darkness. His Spirit fills people. His people now say, "Let there be light" and the darkness is vanquished around them.

The last act is drawing to a close and the final scene is soon to be played out. Let us set our hope completely on the grace to be given us at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Even though we have not seen Him, we love him. Even though we do not see Him, we trust Him. That is why we are filled with a joy inside of us that can not be explained. Our faith is producing the salvation we believe in.

Prepare your minds for action. Be sober in spirit, be drunk in the Spirit and Let there be light wherever you walk.

Community

"God is about to bring something fresh and new that requires your absolute love and dependence on the people around you. It is not an option. Community. You walk in stewardship. God has given me stuff and the stuff is for the kingdom. The stuff is to honor the king and to be enjoyed by my family, but I get to use everything. It doesnt master me, I master it. And I get to use it. Either to bless my family or to honor the body of christ and the king. I am a steward. But I walk in the fear of God realizing that when I am alone and nobody is watching, He is with me. And I must show myself and man of integrity in those moments."
--Bill Johnson

This is it. Time is winding down and Jesus is preparing His people to be ready when He comes. As a bride anticipates the coming of the wedding day and feast, and the seeing of the bridegroom, so we, HIS people anticipate the Day that is approaching. We need one another. Deep is calling to deep and the thundering is saying, "I am doing something new. That is what you feel, and it requires your absolute love and dependence on ME and my people."

Drawing closer to God pulls you into reality, and pulling away from God distances you from reality, because He formed the heavens and the earth.