Month: June 2010

“Carpe diem”, a famous Latin phrase which in English translates as “seize the day”. The full quote is much deeper however. The entire sentence is “while we’re talking, envious time is fleeing; seize the day, put no trust in the future”. The original source for this thought was from a Roman philosopher named Horace who studied with Greeks in Athens. Greek philosophers made a full time agenda of talking and discussing.

Paul mentioned them in the book of Acts and shared truth with them. Act 17:32-33 (Message) At the phrase “raising him from the dead,” the listeners split: Some laughed at him and walked off making jokes; others said, “Let’s do this again. We want to hear more.” But that was it for the day, and Paul left.

When I think of the full thought Horace wrote, he was on to truth. When we hear truth, are we going to seize it, or will it be just another conversation? Time is short and no one knows what tomorrow brings.

Reflection seems like a simple word to understand but the more I research its meaning the less confidence I have in truly comprehending its definition. I stand in front of a mirror and try to see what others see. My attention is at first drawn to the flaws. Closing my eyes I renew my thoughts in love and try again. As I turn up the lighting I can see the reflection of these lights in my own eyes.

I leave the mirror with more questions than before but that’s okay. I am led to wonder about the light of the world. Jesus spoke, “I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.” He also said, “You are the light of the world,” when He was teaching us about who we are.

I read more about reflection. The definition speaks at how a measure of the fraction of light is reflected by a material called its reflectance. In plain speak, we are only as visible as our reflecting surface can refract light.

As I think about how we are being transformed into the image of Christ, who is “light”, I am again in awe. It’s time to go back to the mirror once more and check out those lights in me. The light of life.

Here I am
Waiting on You
How long will it be
Close my eyes
So I can see
Where are You now
Is that You
Behind the lattice
I seek You More

Exquisite

A voice on the radio sings, “maybe tomorrow I’ll find my way home” and my soul cries for something I do not know. I move in and out of my daily experiences, looking for greater depths of my existence.

I haven’t understood yet, but every time I look at the sunrise, see a meadow of flowers, smell the salty air of the ocean breeze; in these indescribable perceptions, I know within they are my reality. All of my being longs for absorption into the beauty surrounding me. I ache, knowing a deeper understanding is near. Each time I spread my fingertips to feel the breeze I am made aware of the promise for that yet to be revealed.

We walk in a mystery revealed to us in small glimpses of awareness. I await the hour I become fully awake to the beauty of my Father in me.

1Co 13:12  For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

A night I remember was one spent on my knees in front of my stereo playing a song over and over. My friends thought I was mental, but it spoke to an empty place in my heart. I had no understanding for why I loved the words. All I could hear at the time was “I will be your father figure”. It was enough for me. Many years passed before the impact of its meaning would hit me.

I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine…so when you remember the ones who have lied, who said that they cared but then laughed as you cried….beautiful darling, don’t think of me…. *

I found my Father, but I didn’t listen to His words close enough. When I finally thought of Him, I did accuse Him of all the wrongs and ills that had ever happened in my life. I didn’t trust Him. I didn’t want Him. I was mad at Him. I blamed Him. I hated Him.

Through it all He kept singing to me of His love. He kept assuring me that He would be my Father figure. I finally came to accept the truth of His song.

I will be the one who loves you, ’til the end of time *

* George Michael - Father Figure

She stood against the wall feeling its coolness beneath her fingers. The side of the cliff was in front of her and she could feel a familiar queasiness come into her middle. Moments like these felt surreal when she stood in them. Nothing of herself wanted to go near the edge, but she felt compelled to look into the swells of the waves she could hear crashing onto shores below.

An anxious need was growing quickly for which nothing made sense. Leaving the wall behind her, step by step, she began to make her way forward. She concentrated on the strange anchor of iron mounted in a cement placement just before the edge of the cliff. Her imagination wondered at its location, but only briefly. It didn’t matter why it was here. She was grateful she’d have something to hold onto.

Drawing closer, she lowered herself, reaching out to clutch the iron rod tightly and scooted to sit beside it. Lowering her feet downward, she forced herself to look at the sands and rocks far below. Her stomach muscles were contracting with tension as she viewed the expanse and depth of the ocean and shores.

With eyes wide open she took in the bay view, both high and low. Understanding was out the window. Perception was all she had. Letting go of the iron rod she sang love for a city she didn’t live in, but the city lived in her heart.

He lay still in the darkness, not even sure if his eyes were open or closed. He could feel his heart beat pulsing in his ears. He had been crying in his sleep and tears had trailed down into his ear canals. The dream was so real, but now in the darkness he longed not to have awakened just yet. Wanting to remember, he began to replay his dream again.

The treetops of a forest glen were on either side of a river bed. His vantage point was from overhead. Looking down at the flowing water, it was refreshing and clear looking. The riverbed was moving quicker below him and he realized he was flying over it. He was free to explore from the heights. An elation filled him and he flew faster still. As the river snaked through the forest he banked and turned overhead as though he had the wings of an eagle.

A wind carried him and he felt this flight to be effortless. The beauty below was breathtaking. No movie he had ever watched had captured this much freedom and beauty. He didn’t understand how this was possible but it didn’t matter. He was free, finally, really free.

Coming back into the darkness of where he lay, a smile crept across his face. He knew his dream was but a taste of a promise from within his heart. A promise he believed.

1Co 2:9  However, as it is written: ” No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him”

Closing my eyes I see the bride in the arms of her bridegroom. They are a beautiful couple. Their linens shine without spot or wrinkle. As they turn about on the dance floor I have but one thought…..”Can I have this dance for the rest of my life, would you be my partner every night?”

She said she needed something. He said he wanted a thing. I listen but my eyes show me other images. “Games people play” rings in my head. The conversations are not what they seem on the surface. My heart tugs within my chest.

I stand in my shoes as the world spins about me and I wonder….can’t they see the hands on the clock? The wind blows and none seem to feel its breeze. I look up into the leaves of the trees and I pray….more time Lord, they need more time.

Mat 24:44  Therefore you also be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.

Bunkers, hidden agendas, missiles and fear. Walking these historical sites, we took note of the postings offering bare minimums of informational facts. A few photos, dates and names of the sites. It was so unsatisfactory.

This place had been fortified and occupied full time with state of the art weapons for their era, and yet no explanations for why was being offered. We did read a common term, “the cold war”. Even the older sites did not mention the “why” but merely stated facts for how far out into the bay the weapons could be fired.

One of these bunkers was accessible thanks to someone who had cut through the bars on a window. I explored within and put my hands on the crumbling cement walls, trying to imagine the conversations from long ago. Electrical connections still hung from the ceiling and lay upon the floor. Large bolts remained from heavy machinery now gone.  Seeing the extent of graffiti, it was obvious our own generation had wanted to leave their signatures noting they had been here too.

All I could think was how I’d hope my life would amount to more than spray paint inside of some forgotten bunker. I want my signature in this life to mean that others would live on into eternity; a place without bunkers or arsenals.