trainspotting November 30, 2009

Start. Snow will be snow again, and with that the return of my wonder, for all things. In my heart and in my hope I know that He began all of this and that He will finish it.

Escape. We want to believe that an escape from Shawshank is possible but sometimes to hope for something too beautiful in a place so ugly carries the fear of failure. Nothing is impervious to Him. Nothing immune to His love. There is a redemption from this Shawshank. There is a hope worth trusting in. His library of books as essential as His spirit that turns the ignition barrel of my soul engine. I am alive, He is in control.

Bond. Trust. A handshake. Palms meeting together, grip. A word that is spoken. A promise that is made. Sworn against no higher authority than The Maker. A bond. With my very life I ran to this handshake. My very life is being promised. Unbreakable. Unchangeable.

Plan. That law is not something that we follow like a pupil in the class room but that its written on the lining of or hearts. I know that the new plan, is an exodus of hearts, minds and souls and that the journey from Egypt to Sinai is a spiritual one that I am journeying today, from distortion to gem-stone.

See. Faith snaps me back to a seabed promenade with suspended walls fashioned by saltwater. By faith I swap a metropolitan palace for a tent and am happy because my eyes are set on a place called home. By faith, I am captain of His Majesty’s Ship, Ark. By faith, I see the stars in the sky as a framed family photo on God’s wall and by faith I hear the belly laugh of woman called Sarah. Their faith, is my faith.

Train. I am teachable. I am ready to learn. Train me. Coach me. Teach me. Tell me. Show me.

train November 29, 2009

Ideas for a life. Ensure I can become better, as a human being. Train hard, be disciplined. Love. Seek a personal trainer. A coach. A strategist. A teacher. A sage. An ex pro, someone who has seen it, done it.

I am teachable. I am ready to learn. Train me. Coach me. Teach me. Tell me. Show me.

I am ready.

 

Not seeing is believing November 28, 2009

Maybe one day I will use my eyes. I’ll see life, most of the time though, I’ll have to rely on my faith to see. Like looking through an hourglass His word changes the perspective of what I see, a time machine of hope.

Faith snaps me back to a seabed promenade with suspended walls fashioned by saltwater. By faith I swap a metropolitan palace for a tent and am happy because my eyes are set on a place called home. By faith, I am captain of His Majesty’s Ship, Ark. By faith, I see the stars in the sky as a framed family photo on God’s wall and by faith I hear the belly laugh of woman called Sarah.

Their faith, is my faith. The same. One.

plan November 27, 2009

I used to make plans. Loads of them. I was great at making plans. So good in fact, that people would ask me to make plans for them. I know what a plan needs to be, I know how important it is to make it waterproof, bulletproof. I know that the plans I make and made require a lot of hard work to achieve something small.

I know that the original plan has been thrown away. That law is not something that we follow like a pupil in the class room but that its written on the lining of or hearts. I know that the new plan, is an exodus of hearts, minds and souls and that the journey from Egypt to Sinai is a spiritual one that I am journeying today, from distortion to gem-stone.

Get well soon dad, I pray this from my core.

bond November 26, 2009

Trust. A handshake. Palms meeting together, grip. A word that is spoken. A promise that is made. Sworn against no higher authority than The Maker. A bond. With my very life I ran to this handshake. My very life is being promised. Unbreakable. Unchangeable.

op November 25, 2009

Nothing is impervious to Him. Nothing is resistant to His words and letters. Nothing. We all burn, we all scream from a place so deep that mouths are opened but nothing is heard. Our core wants to hope. We want to believe that an escape from Shawshank is possible but sometimes to hope for something too beautiful in a place so ugly carries the fear of failure. What if it doesn’t happen? Is this all that there is? What if it’s all a dream?

Nothing is impervious to Him. Nothing immune to His love. There is a redemption from this Shawshank. There is a hope worth trusting in. His library of books as essential as His spirit that turns the ignition barrel of my soul engine. I am alive. I am not in control.

 

Start November 24, 2009

To engage. To start. To begin. The enjoyment, the satisfaction of being the first in the pool, ripples where no ripples had been. The first to walk on the snow, footsteps where once there was blanket white. To commence a new notebook, pages crisp, potential limitless. To start a new job, to open a new breakfast cereal, to wear a new outfit. Yes.

The mundane of the same, the pool becomes crowded and noisy. Changing rooms crammed. The snow turns to a black slush, everyone has walked. Notebooks don’t transpire into the document that would save my bacon, jobs are lost, cereals are finished and clothes become old.

Life is short. Life is long. This dilemma is the the very struggle of the core. We are physical. We are spiritual. Life is finite. Life is eternal.

My heart knows that there is a stage of completion in me. That I have begun, am engaging and will be restored. Completed.

Snow will be snow again, and with that the return of my wonder, for all things.

In my heart and in my hope I know that He began all of this and that He will finish it.

Trainspotting November 23, 2009

Position.

When steam restricts my view, when fog masks the landscape. When life obscures what is tangible, my heart can sink. I search for my foothold. My core needs a home. Somewhere to rest core bones, somewhere to call heaven. A place that doesn’t change but changes me. A word that is constant but that is constantly changing me. A love that is buried with my hurts and rose with my hope. When obscurity enters my life, I know where to stand.

The hope of up.

To lift, like the fisherman hauling up a net full of fish, lifted up, high for everyone to see.  To bring into ascendancy a broken man, a fearful man. To make him complete. Like Mephibosheth, expecting the worst and receiving the best. A dove that soars from a river scene. A star that rises in the night sky, a compass for some, a threat to others. A wave that swells over a boat. A friend raised from a dark cold place, love died and found a way back again. Rose up. Me. Raising the hope of a life without an end.

Free energy.

It all comes through to me, positive and negative, I have no control over my greater circumstance.  I could choose to burn when I have been burnt. I could choose hurt when I have been hurt.

I choose to take it all, good and bad, feed it all in and employ hope energy. A hope of a life that lives, it doesn’t die. A hope that springs back at rejection, hurt and disappointment. Like a car transferring momentum, I can transfer negative into positive. Some time ago an illustration similar to this took place at a wedding. The plentiful was turned into the scarce. The scraps into a feast, the few into many.

This is my journey from distortion to gem stone. From water into wine. From broken loaves and fishes into overflowing baskets, from an acorn to a tree. Planted in a well watered garden. Hope. Breathe.

Honesty.

How much distance between the truth of the world and where I rest my head? Neighbours or ends of the earth? Truth? Yeah, lives two doors away. Always coming round for a cup of tea and a slice of something squashy. Not the easiest of guests to be around but one of the most affirming.

Accept all.

Acceptance must be universal. Like roads we travel on or the bin bags we pack. Like sunrise and sunset, like hope, like restoration. They are for all, and treat all with parity. Acceptance must be universal, in those I see and those I do not. In the fabric of my relationships with everyone, acceptance must be universal.

Peri Peri Scope.

A mirror fixed somewhere in Heaven reflecting onto this troubled market town. A moving mirror, spotted in a market town attached on a word that became flesh exposing Heaven. A mirror on my heart, desperately seeking the word, to reflect, to shine, to glisten for a few moments in a troubled market town with word from Heaven.

My faith a periscope, a collection of prisms and mirrors. Seeing things that are otherwise out of sight. A revelation of what is above and up up and away. A tangible hope.

step ladders November 22, 2009

A mirror fixed somewhere in Heaven reflecting onto this troubled market town. A moving mirror in a market town fixed on a word that became flesh exposing Heaven. A mirror on my heart, desperately seeking the word, to reflect, to shine, to glisten for a few moments in a troubled market town with word from Heaven.

My faith a periscope, a collection of prisms and mirrors. Seeing things that are otherwise out of sight. A revelation of what is above and away. A tangible hope.

uni November 21, 2009

Acceptance must be universal. Like roads we travel on or the bin bags we pack. Like sunrise and sunset, like hope, like restoration. They are for all, and treat all with parity. My shopping bags do not argue with my load anymore than yours.

Acceptance must be universal, in those I see and those I do not. In the fabric of my relationships with everyone, acceptance must be universal.