breathe November 15, 2009

These hours are difficult to live in. A global society that is addicted to control and allergic to hope.

Where can I look for measure and consistency in a twisted world? There are no straight lines in a distorted map, only zig zag. There are the God stories, so solid that they retain a consistency that feeds order, and yet so fluid that they can dance by my side as age races me through life. God stories that retain their meaning but change their context.

These stories are the plumb-line. They remain straight, a standard measure. When hope allergies reach epidemic heights, when an outbreak of faith fear spreads, then the measure of God Stories will correct the in balance.

Stop. Read. Listen. Breathe. Adjust. Coronation. Run. Stop. Read. Listen. Breathe. Adjust. Coronation.

starfish November 14, 2009

Run away. Sprint from this place, to a better place. A 100 meter dash from the rubble to the Ritz. A race from distortion to gem stone. A scenario unusual in so many ways. A race that allows me to run back to the start. A race that has routes that will never take me to a finish line.

I am running away from my childish coping mechanisms, I am running away from my kiddish petulance. I am running into a maturity, one that is centred around my faith, like a jedi, like a monk, like an athlete, like a dancer. I run into a hopeless situation that is full of faith, I run into an army of peace, I run into an ocean of hatred that somehow has love flowing in its current.

run.

brother can you spare a dime? November 13, 2009

Wealth. A currency that transforms from Sterling to Euros. From Euros to Dollars

Wealth. Rich in a currency that transforms from faith into blessings. From hope into joy.

A choice, on earth to invest wisely. A soul bank deposited with diligence and wisdom from within my heart.

Real wealth is transferable from earth to heaven, anything else is counterfeit.

 

Thursday November 12, 2009

My relationship with those outside of my family home? Good friends and not so close friends? acquaintances and comrades? Buddies and true friends? In some ways this too like so much of the space in between humanity has been distorted. So many true aspects have been shoved in a wardrobe, forgotten in a drawer, left dormant in the attic. My relationship outside of the family home? Brothers and Sisters, Father and Mothers; family.

If a sense of family existed in the world, would I be so eager to trick my own brother? Con them into a sale? Flirt with my own sister? Lie, cheat, abuse or disempower? Seeing the world as family will not cure the distortion, no, only He can make all things new. With Him and in Him seeing the world as family can stop the decay and begin to turn back a tide.

True change can only work if it is instigated in the core of my being. My core belongs to Him. There is no grey or middle ground. I make no apologies for where I stand. In Him who was a word, then became flesh and slipped into humanity through an open stable door one night.

Make me whole. A prayer for a Thursday.

five-a-day November 11, 2009

In word. In love. By demeanour. In faith. With Integrity.

A position, taken up when I was born maybe before. A position that needs to guarded, not in a defensive manner but in an expression of humanity. I could leave. I could relinquish my position to a decaying landscape. I could retire to a warmer, dryer, sunnier, more comfortable position. But this is my position. This is where I belong. A discipline to remain true to who I am and how I have been designed.

In this position to express Hope in words, in love, by demeanour, in faith with integrity. To live in words would only cause my hope to collapse, to live by love only would create a one dimensional object. To only live by demeanour would would cripple my soul. To have faith and no love would be like a heart of stone, to have integrity and nothing else would reduce me to a good man and not a God one.

I need the five a day in my life, everyday. To speak and in speaking those words matching up to my actions, which in turn match up to the way I hold myself or behave. What I put my trust in needs to connect with how I live my life and that will facilitate living a life of transparency, clarity and boundaries.

This is my journey, I take deeper into Him, the more I lose myself the more I learn about myself through Him. The journey is not linear or regular. Some days I am on a rocket and others I walk. Some days I feel I haven’t journeyed more than a few centimeters and other days I feel I have travelled a light year.

Looking in the mirror, I tell myself to stay focused and disciplined on the five a day, on my journey, from distortion to gem stone.

who November 10, 2009

Man and woman created as an image of Him. Not separate but in unity they become a whole representation of Him. The aspects and virtues that come into focus a reflection of the aspects of a trinity that breathes and moves in 2009 as much as it does in 9Ad.

Equal, made to reflect the entire image of God. A connection. Like the connection we are brought into this world. Connected to our mothers until we are freed to seek another connection. Free to seek connections of the heart and of the soul.

Man and Woman, two parts of one. Designed to be one. Authority and leadership exist with men and women at the helm.

My wife will never be part of a small minded creche and neither will I.

trainspotting November 9, 2009

This week that just past me, felt like a train rattling through on the opposite track. No sooner have I gone to sleep on a Monday full of work than I am here again on Monday morning. I am going to slow my clock down. Double up on days. A week lasts three days and one. Montueday, Wedthurday, FriSatday and Sunday.

I started the week looking at hope. To hope in hopelessness. This is faith. I will pursue with a hope like this. I must. In all situations.

On Wednesday I thanked God. For everything in my life. For the good and the bad. For the opportunity to see the bad become good and for the opportunity to thank Him for the good.

By the time I was at the Thursday part of my week I was thinking about, compartments that delineate. I don’t want any. Everything is spiritual. Everything.

Friday and the contemplation of order drifts into my thoughts. I like it. On Saturday I was drawn to write about that which is real and that which is counterfeit. Sunday a day of prayer. The power for hope and faith to shape words from my soul and for those words to go to Him and then back to me, not necessarily changing my circumstance but always changing me.

To hope, to thank, to see that everything is spiritual, to create order, to pray for an uncontaminated love, to pray.

speak child November 8, 2009

The breadcrumb trail leads to a single prayer. The cards that built the house fell from a detached prayer making its lone journey years before. A collection of words born in the heart of a man, like a bouquet of flowers thrown up to the heavens, they are fashioned and clothed. Words that come from the heart, not perfect, not clever, not attention seeking and not pious. A prayer birthed on the lips of a congregation, a community with a resource of power rarely used. Prayer more effective than shaking angry fists, more transformative than campaigning for reform. Prayer a collection of drops that make a storm, teas spoons of matter that created the earth poured out from a bag of prayer.

Prayer, the oldest conversation to have existed. Before time began, before my heart thumped, there was prayer. Before I came into being He prayed for me, to me, in me. Prayer the longest dinner conversation, the broken bread and the sipped wine dipped into prayer.

My life needs wrapping, like a Christmas present, in prayer paper. A gift, all this life can cope with. A gift to all around. That somehow. In some way. Life. Will. Connect.

Prayer, nature has always maintained that relationship. The seasons pray, the tides pray, the hibernating slumbers pray as do the flocks of migrating birds. In the DNA of every breath is a prayer. The universe breathes and prays.

periscope November 7, 2009

My destination is love, uncontaminated by self-interest or counterfeit faith.

Honestly I sit at the mirror, what part of my love is contaminated by self interest?

What part of my love is contaminated by counterfeit faith?

I pray for an uncontaminated love in my life.

order November 6, 2009

I prefer the room to be tidy. A priority that changes when other factors are introduced into my day. There is a threshold for me, a point at which I will let go of the grasp to clean the room. My threshold is particularly low. Other people have much higher thresholds. Other peoples thresholds are so high that you can almost guarantee they have a tidy room every day. Other peoples thresholds are so low that you can almost guarantee they will not have a tidy room every day. When the room becomes so untidy it rises up the priority ladder and gets sorted out to a good standard.

I spend a small percentage of a working day looking for stuff; chargers and hard drives, codes and numbers. Maybe if my threshold were higher in tidying up the room, I would misplace less stuff? Maybe the sense of consistent order maintaining a tidy room would somehow permeate into maintaining a tidy life? Could there be so much significance in picking up clothes? Could my life really be connected by the threads of laundry and wardrobes?

I am reminded by the way of the Benedictine Monks, the order that was maintained. From the order comes a dialogue with Him. This room is the most important room in the house, it’s where prayers are prayed, it is where bibles are read and it is where dreams are dreamed. If this room is in a state of chaos physically what kind of spiritual terrain does that create?

I am inspired to create order, simplicity and fashion a consistency into creating a room with order and reverence. From the core of this house I want to create a place where the spirituality is in rhythm with the physical state.

Order. Dialogue. Rhythm. Hope