Separate and A Part

Silent, vociferous plea muzzled fearfully.
Do you know it?
Its icy demands clothe bitterness seductively.
Have you known it?
So dense its contained eruption oozes.
Is it a tenacious animal that cannot be laid to rest?
Its heavy dampness scorches.
Is it one’s self most elemental?
So cold it burns.
In slumber does it weaken or strengthen?
Parasitic, its suffocating confinement drains and prods.
Would its release birth liberating hope?
Uncompromising desire that offers no treaty,
Is it fatally consuming or a depletion that sustains?
Muffled needlessly, for surrounding closed ears are we.
Do you know it?

In Between Mysteries

The depth, truth, and entirety of man’s spiritual essence has been so thoroughly pressing upon my being that I struggle with the powerless but daunting feeling nonetheless of physically imploding. That reality of deep calling to deep overwhelmingly reverberates through my every thought, action, and interaction like the persistent rhythm of a tsunami. The more connected I become with people, both in quantity and individually, the more I am clearly and thickly aware of our presently complete but impalpably temporary state of confinement! We are eternal beings encased in flesh that expires, living in a decomposing world. An inevitable but hardly advertised consequence of deliberately “investing eternally” or “storing up heavenly treasures” is an accentuated and developing feeling of displacement. I wrote “deliberately” because every moment of every human’s existence on this earth is a part of eternity and is infinitely accounted for. One’s actions, words, thoughts, inactions, unspoken words, and thoughtlessness are not ineffectual; once in existence, they are not catapulted into some dark void that touches nothing. It is an odd and constant journey arriving to and living in the marriage between “no man is an island” and man’s solitude. Only through physical death can we escape completely from the essential need yet distancing imprisonment of solitude. The more I am loved and the more I am known and the more I learn to accept love and the more I know others and the more I love unrequited and the more I experience mutual affection, the more elemental I become which naturally fuels a fundamental yearning to see reality’s masquerade shed and for eternity to exist unabashed.

Mr. Anderson

I cannot even recall what praise song we were singing. What I do remember is noticing the little toddler two rows in front of me. I’m not the type of girl who “just adores children,” but I had very randomly babysat for a Bible study almost a year ago. The experience confirmed that despite the fact that I am not particularly fond of children in general, this little one had won me over pretty severely. At any rate, the blond haired boy was currently attempting to color. His mother had given him a small box of four crayons. His tiny fingers worked diligently and deliberately to open the small cardboard flap to get to the bright colors of green, purple, red, and yellow. Very predictably, one of the crayons fell behind the chair that his Paul Revere coloring book laid open on. Reaching his hand between the small opening where the chair’s back and seat met, he quickly realized his arm wasn’t even close to being long enough to retrieve his green crayon. Immediately, body still straining in apparent effort, he looked up to the girl in the row between us. Though he seems too young to be verbally articulate at all, his blue eyes’ desperate plead for the girl’s assistance was more then adequate communication. Watching that whole scene unfold and seeing the complete and unchecked desire in the young child’s eyes made me wonder about how it seems we all so easily and commonly lose that ability to be so aware and present of ourselves…of our desires and short comings. It seems to me that most of us are more then reluctant to realize and admit our inadequacies much less actually ask for help. I think that it is common to view strength as not needing anything but ourselves. Aren’t we a silly lot? All of us so obviously in need of something greater then ourselves, yet how many of us walk out our lives without denying or trying to cover up our short comings? Something inside of me deeply longs for the freedom to be able to journey exposed, but such humility seems far too foreign…that kind of vulnerability requires too much trust.

Rhythm's Beauty

I wouldn’t call myself a logical person, but I am hopelessly analytical. For all of the hundreds of curious ideas and controversial thoughts I’ve mulled over, in the end, it may be the rising and setting of the sun that allows me to persevere in this journey that Jesus Christ has called us to. On an apparent level, every kiss between Night and Day is like an intimate rhythm that my spirit moves to. It is a rhythm of familiarity and hope that affirms my deep suspicions that I am not of this tangible world and this physical body I function within is transient. On a relational level, the beauty of God’s nature has yet to antagonize me to anger, but so often I am entirely frustrated at the same wondrous but fleeting beauty I witness and experience in my fellow humans. I appreciate and accept the momentary gifts in His nature, but when it comes to people and relating, I struggle. Combined to an even greater extent, mistrusting fear and attempted control become a powerful force that urges me to be averse to embracing the beauty God reveals to me through mankind. I cannot deny how weary I become of all the coming and leaving of people in my life and heart. I find the uncertainty and frailty of all this world holds to be very taxing. A valuable ally told me recently that to prematurely end love before its natural passing is to cut yourself off from that human, and to cut yourself off from a human is but a short step from cutting yourself off from all of humanity . . .which is a dark place to be and is not easy to return from. So, whether being witness to a burning star or a genuine smile, am I not called to recognize and appreciate all of God’s beauty? In the presence of His beauty, am I not designed to give Him the glory? The absence of beauty’s passing presence should never overshadow the actual beauty, for as with everything true, genuine beauty is something more like an echo of eternity . . .an encouraging glimpse of every hoped promise fulfilled.