Resistance

Resistance by Beth Sheldon. What was I thinking With all this resistance?.. Time does not wait For stewardship of a life... Even mine. Time... It marches Relentlessly on, Respecting not My stalling heart. Revering not The doubting part That will not stand in faith And do That which it was Created to. This day, I have. A gift from You. To do What I'm Designed to do. To deal the death blow To my doubt! To breathe You in, And let You out!

Here, My Heart...

Here... My heart.
Strangled,struggling,
Fumbling for words.
Like an infant...
Full of feeling,
Yet void of speech.
Screaming needy cries,
Clamoring for answers,
Demanding a reason
For this season...
Fists clenched.
Entrenched.
Wanting to run,
To be undone
In the safety of
Your love.
Your eternal arms,
Wrapping up my messiness,
Hushing up my stress,
Wooing me back
From this wilderness.
You...
To quiet my mind,
Like a flitting bird,
Shhh, Be still...
And know...
I want to know.
I do.
To come and roost,
Still and protected,
In the shadow
Of Your wing.
Still.
Unstirred by storms.
Under Your feathers,
Warm...
And secure.
Sure You are here...
Ever near.
To nestle close
To Your beating breast
And be at rest.
No longer wrestle
Against this journey
Of Your design.
I am Yours.
You are mine.
I'm allowed here...
With You.
Welcomed, even!
Longed for!
The distance
Was mine to choose.
Mine, to lose
The fellowship of Your nearness,
Intimate and right.
Mine, to lose sight
Of the Good.
To feel misunderstood.
To see... the Lie,
Agree... and die.
Misinformed
Of True Love's grace
Convinced of an image
That's not Your face...
Assenting by degrees
To the perversion
Of You...
Who changes not!
Who fails not!
Who always protects!
Always trusts!
Always perseveres!
Who kindly nears
My bleeding heart,
Not to scorn,
But gently warn
And woo
My wounded heart
To the warmth
Of fiery Love!
To unveil mysteries,
Hidden deep,
Yet never found
By those who sleep...
Awake, my soul!
Spirit, run!
Into the One,
To be one,
One Spirit with Him,
Source of Wisdom...
Hidden,
Un-earthly,
Not of this world,
But for
All bleeding hearts
Opened to
True Love's redemption.
I, for one,
Want to be
Chief among hearts
Choosing this Door!

Scars

These marks... windows on wounds that tell a tale, weave a history on me that cannot be erased. Skin's interruptions... hemming in the broken places, where blood gushed out. Places where I stop and stare, remember where the pain came in... uninvited.

Some are hidden from your view, others, I can't hide from you. Every day I wear their marks, milky white against my skin, where pain came in.

We can meet and who can say what goes through your mind that day, when eyes first meet their queer distraction... should I speak, or you take action? I don't know, but either way, it matters.

Do I look up from self-absorption long enough to see the skin that you are in and recognize how much we share? Do I? ... cross the chasm of my fear long enough to let you hear my story...

Am I?... faithful with these marks I bear, on soul or skin, to let you in, recounting reasons they are there?
Am I?... still with breath to tell the tale, thankful for the Life that did not fail to rescue me?

Will I?... risk the ridicule He bore, to keep alive an open door He made for me...
Opportunity.

Transparentheses is Born

Deep inside this heart of me there lies a trigger... a loaded gun, awaiting release, permission to reach an unknown target. Not knowing outcomes, fearing the impact, alas, these the greater killers than my bullet, imprisoning me from fulfilling dreams designed for me...

And so, here goes... Transparentheses is born. A launching out to a transparent place, a birthing place, a place of grace and open face. A place of parentheses, explanatory emphases on thoughts stirring inside of me, free to be released and received, to reach their mark...to make their mark. Qualifying remarks that gain their metal through the trial, through the test, the fire, at best, refines perspective otherwise lost or wasted.

Words can be that... such fickle creatures,such perspective changers- affirming, exalting, then destroying, devaluing. Such power in the stringing together of letters...to comfort, console, manipulate,control. I see that in these stringings, stewardship matters, life and death in their powers.

And so, with care, I venture here. Healthy fear. Holy fear. Treading where life and death are options of my choosing, but not without price, and not without cost. The desire of my heart is to face the Day of Reckoning with these powers well spent. Radiant to stand before the Giver of such gifts unashamed.

Turning Tables

Turning Tables by BAS       

Beautiful One,
I am undone!
My reason gone!
Collapsed in the wonder of You!
New to me...
This mystery,
Unveiled.
My box for You...
So untrue,
Unsuited for Your greatness!
Heaven's King
Come down to be
A Son of Man,
For me to see.
Humility...
Invades my proud space.
Emptied of divinity,
Taking on humanity,
You came...
Serving me.
Towel on waste.
Loving me,
Scandalously.
Turning tables
In my heart.
What I made
Of Abba's House
Your zeal removed...
Cleansing me.
Violent grace.
Disrupting me
From business as usual...
Turning tables
In my heart...
Scattering coins,
Whip in hand.
Driving out sacrifice
Where mercy had no room
To dwell.
Stay.
My Jesus.
In my temple.
Look at me...
Carefully.
Your temple.
Your place of prayer,
Where Your heart pleads,
Intercedes,
For nations, peoples, tribes, and tongues!
Once again,
I am undone!
Beautiful One!