Certainly struggling

August 27, 2013

ImageI am a person with many vices. We all are, aren’t we? Some of our vices are quiet and subtle, like complacency and lying. The ones we can’t hide are the ones we try to shove deeper and deeper so they can’t be unearthed–it’s the miseries of the heart in a chest, buried and hidden, but not like treasure. 

My cardinal vice clouds my judgement and veils my eyes. It turns friends into enemies in a heartbeat. It justifies overkills and praises my artillery. Worst of all it gives me a taste of “victory” so when the Lord beckons me to leave it be I refuse…much like the toddler at the toy store when the mother begs her child to put the toy back and come back. I’d cock my head back in disdain at whoever dares incur my wrath. “Want to pick a fight with me? I DARE you.”

What a load of absolute rubbish.

I have an issue with anger management. It’s infectious, the negativity, and I hate showing it because no one will be happy in the end. The Lord has been bringing this to my attention these days. Tonight it was through the same brother who keeps tripping around and leaving little irritating things scattered around. Yep. 

It’s taking “pushing your buttons” to a whole new level. 

 

Forth

August 26, 2013

How much has changed in the course of a year. 

It appears my ability to translate the onslaught of thoughts and feelings into coherent text has also changed within that time. But then again that’s not such a terrible thing, now is it? Changing human hearts is the business of the unchanging God. 

So too will my prose become something a little new, a little different. 

He loves words too, you know. 

Under Construction

August 26, 2013

Shutters, the shutters of my heart
Open to the breath of my God.
If only I could keep them
Open
Even when the winds turn into a tempest
And the love of my Yahweh
Seems, appears
Abated.
Baited breath I hold
As the barrage of His bullets–
Petals
rain on the shutters.
I shudder; what love is this,
To continue and pour and torrent and seep
Despite its millionth rejection?
And again He’ll breathe gently,
Whisper;
He’ll coax the shutters open
For me to let Him in. 
“Receive, receive my love, My Love.”
No hiding, don’t hide.
Let the slats rest ajar to welcome
The Son and His shine.
A mighty gust, it sighs my name
And calls me ____________.
Many name I have,

But Love’s is whose I am.