love December 18, 2009

“It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor’s glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or the other of these destinations . . . There are no ordinary people

stam ford December 17, 2009

When the writer speaks of Love in 1 John 4, there is an acetate placed over the original. This is important as what he writes of is about the fragments being collected to make the whole again.

The brokeness of man, like shattered glass lies on a dry sea bed, the hum of hovering water like the rapid flap of a doves wings returning from a land scouting mission. The water separate like on that first day, an expanse. The water separated by Him, emerging from the river with a circling dove, a hum.

He walks on it and through it. Is beside it and in it. He stirs the sea like I revive my tea. Only then can my eyes see His hands scoop up the broken glass to piece together again, bit by bit. This is the jigsaw of humanity. The fragments of my life and yours.

When complete, it is as it should be. It is as it was. No room for fear and shame. They entered the world through a back door, they can take their leave now. Love has moved in. Love reminds them of an outstayed welcome. Love covers my soul like an expanse, hovering, buzzing like the wings of a dove.

This is the picture, lost, damaged, broken and now restored, beautifully, by Him.

no talk December 16, 2009

Self criticise. A voice of duty that rarely is afforded a decent seat on the government of the mind. Back bencher. Marginalised for being extreme. What then of love? Or sacrificial love? Ahhh, says the pianist, I can tell you about love. Really?

This love serves others first. This love rarely walks on by. This love has not taken its toll. This love is desperately trying to be selfless. This love gets it wrong too. Spectacularly sometimes, but it is an honest love. A real love. A true love.

This love has moved in. Squatting in a bed sit, eating supper from a can but treated like a prince. Did you hear, says the pianist, that Self criticise chappy picked up sticks and left? No I say. Tell me more about this love, I say.

everything December 15, 2009

Everything that life serves up is surmountable. Nothing is impossible. Nothing.

Trainspotting December 14, 2009

As if my life depended on it. I love. As if today was all that there was. I choose to love. As if a real rain, one that Travis Bickle spoke about, is about to soak the cracks in between the pavement slabs. I choose to be shaped, formed, moulded. As if my existence relied upon my growth, my change. These values are not found in the survival of the fittest or the laws of the concrete jungle.

Respect and celebration. They are the gloves I want to wear today. The gloves I want to wear everyday. Protecting my hands, packing and moving boxes. My soul feel a little uncomfortable, like a t shirt with a tag that cuts into my neck. My soul feels a little out of place. Sometimes the temporary nature of earth offers a transit lounge feel to me. This isn’t my home. I have my belongings already packed and boxed up. My stay here, like yours, is temporary. I am just renting until I move into my permanent home.

In the school of adoration the soul learns why the approach to every other goal has left it restless.

If life is found to be difficult because in the confusion we are trying to follow Him, take it in your stride. Trust Him. This is the journey we are on. Having to travel from A to B, as an eight year old without our parents. This is life, from outside of Eden to Heaven, with no one to make sure we catch the right trains. We need to trust Him. The journey is difficult, it is painful but the destination is home.

What I want, is free, and all from You. What You give is free and all for me. I feel cold and am always looking for Your fire to gather round. Warm me. The heat of passionate patience to warm my face. Reverent wonder. Build me on this journey.

I do not want to be caught in destructive division. I want to speak truth, always. I do not want to say what people want to hear or exploit a situation by speaking the words that will manipulate. I do not want to do fake. I do not want to be fake. My measure is constant, check before I speak.

knock December 13, 2009

I do not want to be caught in destructive division. I want to speak truth, always. I do not want to say what people want to hear or exploit a situation by speaking the words that will manipulate.

I do not want to do fake. I do not want to be fake.

My measure is constant, check before I speak.

building December 12, 2009

What I want, is free, and all from You.

What You give is free and all for me.

I feel cold and am always looking for Your fire to gather round.

Warm me.

The heat of passionate patience to warm my face. Reverent wonder.

Build me on this journey.

sixteen December 11, 2009

If life is found to be difficult because in the confusion we are trying to follow Him, take it in your stride. Trust Him. This is the journey we are on. Having to travel from A to B, as an eight year old without our parents. This is life, from outside of Eden to Heaven, with no one to make sure we catch the right trains. We need to trust Him. The journey is difficult, it is painful but the destination is home.

adore December 10, 2009

In the school of adoration the soul learns why the approach to every other goal has left it restless.

“Douglas Steere”

lease December 9, 2009

Respect and celebration. They are the gloves I want to wear today. The gloves I want to wear everyday. Protecting my hands, packing and moving boxes. My soul feel a little uncomfortable, like a t shirt with a tag that cuts into my neck. My soul feels a little out of place. Sometimes the temporary nature of earth offers a transit lounge feel to me.

This isn’t my home. I have my belongings already packed and boxed up. My stay here, like yours, is temporary. I am just renting until I move into my permanent home.