Her feet loved the warmth the rock had absorbed from the heat of the sun. She had been sitting upon this rock a long while listening to the roar of the waterfall, feeling its mist cover her body, wetting her hair. Gazing at its beauty she silently enjoyed the rainbow hovering above the rushing white liquid. The water flowed from sources she could not see or even imagine for abundance. This flow poured into a pool of deep green, its depth she couldn’t gauge. All of her senses delighted in this special place.
Her heart and mind turned once more to her true love, her treasure, her Lord. Standing upright she moved closer to the edge where the roar felt as though it would overpower her very thoughts. Looking down at the pool she knew it was time to drown. Diving outward she put her arms overhead letting her hands come together like an arrow. Time felt slow as she sailed through the air from a height that seemed dizzying, wondering if this was what it was to fly. Hitting the water she didn’t do anything to stop her momentum. She could feel her ears pop with the pressure of the water’s depth.
Feeling herself slow, she opened her eyes to see more beauty still. Her body began to rise quickly and breaking the water’s plane her lungs took in a deep breath. Swimming forward she put herself directly under the water’s spillage. Soaking in this place she sang in her heart, “Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls. All Your waves and billows have gone over me.” She began to drown in the love of the Lord.
Photo source http://www.allabouthoneymoons.com/Blog%20Images/Kauai/Kauai-Waterfall.jpg
Keep thinking about how to mount a great defense, and if I let myself go for too long I can picture blowing up an amazing hot air balloon. Looking at it with natural eyes you would think it to be a thing of true beauty; to see and behold from miles away, with people going ooohhh and aaahhh. Oh but wait, it would be filled with nothing but hot air! Love again pokes a hole into that wind of heated breath and teaches me to listen, to learn, to wait and pray. While this deflating balloon falls back to earth I can see with better perspective, up close and personal.
Mat 26:62-3a And the high priest arose and said to Him, “Do you answer nothing? What is it these men testify against You?” But Jesus kept silent.
I can’t hear your voice when you yell at me. I can’t hear your voice when you tell me how I messed up. I can’t hear your voice when you preach at me. I can’t hear your voice when you lecture me. I can’t hear your voice when you tell me to be something I’m not. I can’t hear your voice when you want me to be, well…you.
I can feel your hugs. When you are sharing with love, I can hear everything better… especially your voice.
I am not really cut out to read much news. It literally makes me want to grab hold of the very neck of our nation and slap heads while screaming, “snap out of it”! Of course while screaming I wonder if anyone would see the tears in my eyes or hear the choking in my voice. Would they see into my heart the reasons I carry for wanting them to stop being deceived and manipulated? Would they see my desire for them to awaken from looking at headlines and look to God for hope and healing? Probably not I think; they would only feel my angry touch and tone out my shrill voice.
Putting myself in check, I again pick up my pen and choose love. It can be a difficult walk to love no matter what you see, no matter what you hear. It’s emotional, it’s discouraging, it’s fraught with traps to stumble you. Wanting to see change immediately but instead being patient to let God work. And still we get up every day, choosing to journey in this world because we know we are needed. We are the ones chosen for this generation. We are the ones crying out day and night in prayers for those around us. Our names are not in any headlines and we are not the popular crowd in worldly circles. We are misunderstood and misrepresented because we choose not to ‘just go along’. In our hearts we also know others are meant to join us in this battle of hope. Quietly we wait for each of them to finally see who they are and what they are meant to do.
Yet where sin was powerful, God’s kindness was even more powerful. Sin ruled by means of death. But God’s kindness now rules, and God has accepted us because of Jesus Christ our Lord. This means that we will have eternal life. (Rom 5:20b-21)
I tell you, the angels of God rejoice over one sinner who repents (Luke 15:10b)
Written for and dedicated to… I love you
I lay back with the book resting on my chest feeling the tender touch of it upon my heart once more. I kept thinking about His precious words of promise and hope. The Lord your God in your midst. The Mighty One will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing. I could hear the hum of music in my mind from an old tune, “killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words…he sang as if he knew me in all my dark despair”. I couldn’t stop the tears even if I wanted to so I lay still letting them run freely.
I picked the book up off my chest, letting myself die with each word taken in. He knew me, He knew everything; even that I had grown weary of running from His piercing love. I breathed in deep, understanding that although I was dying to this life I was being reborn into His life. I longed to hear His song of rejoicing over me…someday…someday.
* Scripture Zeph 3:17
* Lyrics from Killing Me Softly by Roberta Flack
I held the hose in my hand over a particular portion of dirt; a place where only wild grass grew. I desired to soften the ground. I had turned up the soil already and wanted to make it ready for planting something fruitful. Standing there watching the water soak into the earth I got lost in my imagination…
It was night and the stars shone brightly. I was a woman free, without inhibitions. The water and soil were readily mixed and I knew instinctively what to do. Alone under the stars I undressed, standing naked under the night sky. Stepping into the mixture I began to dance, singing my secret prayers of the spirit. Round and round my feet made circles in the muddy soil, splashing up on my calves and thighs. I wore no shame for my naked condition. Singing aloud I uttered syllables, humming prayers while looking upwards. Laughing, I remembered the little girl inside me and dropped to my knees. I plunged my hands into the softened dirt. Taking handfuls of this muddy mixture, I spread it upon my hair, my face, by body. I was created from this dust. Looking upward, I wondered at my God who had created these stars, this earth and me….
Climbing down from the high places on the Rock, I view an ongoing war in the valley. I take the spyglass from my belt to view each battle being fought. This new way of seeing close up is a gift from my Father. In His presence I quietly listen to His lessons, learning to examine the art of war. The strategies are nothing less than simple. Alone we are taken down one by one. Only when we unite ourselves to battle as one will we gain victorious ground.
The woman looked into my eyes and saw who I was and who I was to become. Selflessly she offered up her life to share all she had learned, that I might gain understanding from her experiences. She knew me to still be young, needing guidance. Exposing her flesh she asked me to draw near that I might touch her scars. At first I wanted to divert my eyes and see her only as perfect but she insisted I see correctly. One by one she showed me her wounds and explained how she had received each one. Some she had gained from other’s infliction and some she had brought onto herself. She hid no details of their origin. In touching each of these scars I could feel my heart aching inside my chest; feeling swollen and inflamed with the transference of compassion and mercy.
When alone I considered what was being shared with me and the reasons why. Tears kept rolling down my cheeks and reaching up to touch them I let my finger gather these liquid drops. Looking at them I felt as though each one was a treasure. I turned on the light of my magnifier to look closer. They seemed to sparkle and shine. Was this what God saw, was this why He kept them?
Scars and tears; each had their purpose and Jesus had been a bearer of both. I come to understand more day by day.