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Unwritten

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dg_7TL5PAzA&ob=av2n

I am unwritten,
Can’t read my mind
I’m undefined
I’m just beginning
The pen’s in my hand
Ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten, yeah

Oh, oh

I break tradition
Sometimes my tries
Are outside the lines, oh yeah yeah
We’ve been conditioned
To not make mistakes
But I can’t live that way oh, oh

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
the rest still unwritten

(Gospel)
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open *****
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open *****
Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten

The rest is still unwritten

London the Mysterious

London appears to be a place of mysteries and unexplained wonders. You get up in the morning, try and make yourself look human, grab a coffee and rush out the door. Well it was such a morning last week. I got out the door, and was walking down the street, minding my own business. Suddenly I am stopped in my tracks at seeing a curious sight.

A shoe.

A lady’s shoe to be more specific. It just lay there on the side-walk, as if it belonged there. It wasn’t old or torn or thrown away. It hadn’t been tossed away. It just lay there neatly, without its other half. And as I passed it my mind began to wonder. How had that shoe come to be there? Was it neatly placed there by some eccentric in order to rouse precisely such speculations? Do we have a Cinderella in our midst? Did the owner just disappear on her way to buy cigarettes on evening? Was there something fishy on my coffee this morning?

Mysterious. Unexplained.

Then, as I continued down the same street, I walked by a small shop, out of which walks an old lady. She has just bought the morning newspaper from the store and brushes past me. But hold on! What is she wearing? A short, pink night-dress with frills at the end. We’re talking grandma, here. Wrinkles and all. And as thought that were not enough, she also wore festive, formal heels. Again the questions came running. Had she misunderstood the latest fashion magazine? Was she sleep-walking?

And as I continued on my journey I began to think about all the other random, unexplained things which I had seen. What was with the telephone hanging from that tree in the park? Did someone receive some bad news?

And why are bus passes carried in IKEA holders? Why is it when you’re late for work you seem to hit every red light on the way? Is there a guy in a booth somewhere with a magic button who’s out to get you?

Why do some men feel the need to wear those pointy shoes to the office that makes them look like witches? Was the Mayor of London hit by lightning and then dunked in peroxide?

Do people who sit upstairs on double-decker buses really have more fun?

Why does that guy always fill the baby carriage with beer bottles. Where does he put the baby? In the fridge?

And why DID the chicken cross the road??

Ok. I’ll stop there. But you get the point. Life is full of the unexplained and the mysterious, loose ends and unanswered questions. Some of them can remain a mystery and we don’t mind too much if the old lady likes pink. Some of them, on the other hand, get to us. Ever had one of those questions on your mind?

We ask “why me?” or “why now?”. “Why did God let me go through it?” “Who am I meant to marry?” “How would that situation have gone differently if…”

Questions, questions and sometimes few answers…

A lot of questions.

And then I sometimes treat God like a Jeopardy game. I look at the answers on the board of “common reasons” and I guess the question.

.

God: It wasn’t meant to be.

Me: Erm… why did we break up?

.

God: Pray more

Me: Why I didn’t get that job?

.

God: Devil’s work

Me: Why is there so much pain in the world?

It’s a ridiculous game, really. Because what usually happens is that He will leave questions unanswered, which I then will try and cram into a box of reasons and systematic theology. Its like the unexplained in my life goes into some miscellaneous shelf in my mind and I just throw cliche comments at it:

“That’s life”

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

“Something better will come along.”

“Chin up- tomorrow’s another day”

“The Devil got in the way.”

OH PLEASE! That’s like saying that there is no good or intelligent reason for my answers just because I cannot think of them!

Point is? I believe in a God with a plan and a purpose. It doesn’t mean that everything that happens in my life was his PURPOSE. But it also doesn’t give me any right to make him out to be a God who uses cliches to answer my pains or catch-phrases to explain my doubts away. He is able to stand up for himself a LOT better than that.

But I also realize that there are questions I will not have an answer to anywhere in the near future. And you know what? The battle, in this case, is to try and fight towards acceptance; not that life is unfair sometimes, but that we don’t always get the answers the way we want them. (Although, I must admit, I fail miserably at this a lot of the time.)

Whether its why the chicken crossed the road or why, after staring after the lady in the pink dress, I walked into a lamp-post, or why certain things happen in life, I am comforted. I am comforted by the fact that he lets me ASK questions, he doesn’t try to hide behind excuses. And at the same time He really is in control. He doesn’t ask us to be emotionless monks who passively watch the world pass by without a reaction or a questioning thought. But I really do think He really will have answers one day.

And in the meanwhile He is my answer. I may not know the answers, but I know Him. He will love us through and past everything else.

A Psalm

Beyond my facts and arguments

and hollow logic

Beyond our foolish wisdom

that we take such pride in

Beyond our shallow prejudices and philosophies,

narrow-mindedness, blindness and lostness

There you stand.

The eyes in the Universe that hold most kindness and heartbreaking warmth, belong to you, O Lord.

Soft, clear, loving eyes that speak only truth and see us as children, not more, nothing less. You love us with your pain, you love us in your pain, despite our pain, through our pain, you love us out of our pain. And you love us despite the pain we cause you.

You see us as your children; Royalty, king and queens, beautiful masterpieces. Not like the beasts the enemy seeks to spin us into. What honour to be created in your image!

And this is and dance we dance. Between our mistakes and your open arms, those arms that long to embrace us, those nail-scarred hands that ache to hold us again. Oh Lord, I love those hands of your that work to mend and serve and carry. Your tear down walls and rock to sleep with those hands.

And a King who rose from the deep chasms of Hell, labors to lead us up out of this darkness. He stooped to the depths of the hell in my heart

into the blackness of my nature

to open a door in the roof for me

so i could see the stars above

and consider the chance of heaven

and dream of new heights

There you stand, Lord.

Like a Warrior, like a Doctor, like a Mother. You who fight for me, heal and hold tight every inch of me.

Who can face such love and be unmoved? Such love can break iron fists and melt this immunised heart.

Such love has the power to change what we have deemed “nature”; what we have condemned as “set in stone”

Such love turn the tide and opens the sea and floods my eyes

There you stand because God loved the world so

As a rock to cling to when everything else seems to be crashing down

As a statue of Liberty, reminded us that we are freed slaves

As a Beacon of light, bringing the ships home

As a strong tower for all who are running

And so I love you. If I am made in your image, Saviour, your love reaches out and meets a response in me. It’s like when you meet yourself in the mirror. It is familiar, it is safe, it tells you who you are.  Jesus, your love towards me is mirrored back to you.

What am I but dust?

I am ashes.

So often I am a broken jar before you, the treasure within has leaked out and I am empty and useless

What can you fill me with when I am in pieces, Oh Lord?

Oh Lord, restore me, for I dare not call myself your servant

But in my life you pronounce hope by sustaining my heartbeat

You are not done

and there you stand.

Could it be you still have a purpose for this broken vessel?

I ask only this of you, Lord.

If you let my breath remain

if you allow me to press on

let me live bathed, drowned, soaked, burning, overwhelmed in your Presence

and not for a second of my given time

long for anything as much as I do for you

that one day I may kneel before you

where you stand.

You tip-toe through the humid jungle. Your socks are wet, your shirt is damp, and so are your spirits. A night in the middle of a rain-forest wasn’t exactly your idea of a good night out, but here you are. There’s no moonlight, nobody else around and you have no idea how you’re going to hack your way out of this leafy prison.

The forest floor cracks and crumbles under your boots, and centipedes and giant spiders scatter around them. All in all, your arachnophobia would be kicking in big-time by now if it wasn’t for another fear that hogged your attention. Yes, because out here, among hanging vines and thick-stemmed trees, something far larger is lurking. Something you thought couldn’t possibly be alive, but which is. Something with teeth that would shame crocodiles and an appetite that not even Mac Donald’s wants to compete with.

Just as you brush a large leaf of an exotic plant to the side, you catch a movement out of the corner of your eye. Your spine tingles and the hair on the back of your head begins to rise. Tension ceases your every nerve. Is your mind playing tricks on you? Is there really something there? Your head begins inching its way to the right from which you saw something. And there it is. A Tyrannosaurus. The large beast towers over you, watching your closely with brutish eyes. Saliva drips from its half-open jaw.

You stand dead-still or you’ll be dead-meat.

You don’t know whether to run. You don’t know where you’d hide. You even forget to breathe. So this is it. You’re done for. Dead. Finito. Sheesh Kebab. You’re going to be the feast of the Beast. You’re going to die at the jaws of a monster from the past.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

I believe that we all, at some point in our lives, have had a Jurassic Park experience. The Jurassic Park experience consists of you finding yourself surrounded by monsters that you thought were long dead and gone. History gets nasty.

Anyone who tries to change, tries to move on, tries to live and new and bettered life will encounter their blast from the past. And guess what? It’s hungry.  As Christians this phenomenon is one of the many battles we face. We think we outran that memory, we think we conquered that enemy, we think we shook that habit and are on to a brand new start. But there it is; the past rears its ugly head. We are so brutally reminded of that person we used to be, that life we used to lead, that reality we used to call home.

I have had many a good Christian soul tell me, with stars in their eyes, “Don’t you worry! Jesus gave you a new life! The past is gone, your sins are washed clean, the battle is over. You are a Victor! Your are a Conqueror!”

I nod and admit that it sounds great. A new beginning and a chance to leave the filth behind sounds like just the thing I want. But I know deep down that my experience has often been less than as A-4 as all that. I have often seen my nightmares washed down the sink, only to see the sink back up and the filth return. I have seen bad habits running back to their owners with open arms and past patterns repainting their way back into sincere Christian’s lives. Addictions, fears, depressions, weaknesses, doubts… oh yes. The Tyrannosaurus is back in town and he wants to know what’s on the menu.

You should know right now that if you are a believer in Jesus Christ, you will slay many dragons.  And there’s another thing you should know too. Many of these dragons will rise again to block your path once more.

“What??” you say. “Rise again? How could they? I don’t believe it! They only rise when we lack faith! No way!”

Yes, we all lack faith, but that is not always the cause of slain dragons returning to us. Not at all. They return because they received our invitation. You don’t remember sending it out? Oh you don’t have to worry about writing one. Your sinful nature did that all for you. And guess what? It’s throwing you a great reunion party. All your past sins and defeated enemies. They will all try their luck and knock at your door, and they’ll even bring presents. Why? Because you asked them back. Why? Because your heart used to be their home.

So what then? Will we fall into the same traps? Are there no real new beginnings?

Ok, let’s side-step for a moment…

Do you think you’re special? It’s an honest question. Do you think you’re special? Is there anything that makes you different from everyone else – something that defines YOU?

In our society you may believe that you are encouraged to be as special and unique as snowflake. And indeed a lot of us sometimes act like we truly are the center of the universe; the hub of the happening. But guess what? In reality, among the masses, your identity is too often narrowed down to numbers.

2 Kids, 1 mortage, 2 cars, 6 hundred in debt, 5 pounds to heavy, 7 cigarettes a day.

“Could prisoner 212657 please step forward!”

Your value boils down to things defined by value systems such as money, workdays, taxes, bank account number, age, earnings, products, divorces, hours and minutes. When disasters across the world happen, we define our loss by the number of deaths, as if one wasn’t enough.

But I believe in a God who treats us quite differently. He doesn’t find it necessary to march in crowd demonstrations, wearing all the rainbow’s colors, and demand freedom of expression and individualism and wave strange art in the air. He knows how important identity is to us. Individualism, in its truest form, was his idea. He made us that way. Special, unique, irreplacable.

And so when he gives an individual person the chance to start again, to get a clean slate, he begins by changing the most basic thing about our identity. It is the first thing we use in order to present ourselves to others. Our Name.

Flip through the Bible, old testament and new, and you fill find it peppered with stories of people meeting God, and in the same process, getting their name changed. It may seem a little strange to us, but then again it kind of makes sense. If I wanted to move away, disappear, alter my identity, I would have to change my name.

Well, God changed people’s names as a sign of a new beginning, a new identity.

Abram to Abraham

Sarai to Sarah

Jacob to Israel

Simon to Peter

Saul to Paul

Graceless to Christian

Sinner to Saved

Thief to Valuable

Drunkard to Warrior

Depressed to Beautiful

He’s played the Name Game with a lot of people. He starts at the beginning (a very good place to start). He says; here’s a new name, let’s start a new life together. And so it begins.

But if I was to change my name to ‘Angelina’ over-night, not everyone would have heard about the change. And even if they heard about it, they wouldn’t easily be able to remember my old name. My friends would keep slipping up, calling me ‘Natalie’ in an absent-minded moment, or downright refusing to use my new name. Seems natural. To them I am Natalie. To them, that is my ID.

The same things happen when we try and change our life. We try and adopt new habits, new patterns, new lifestyles, new thinking, new worldviews, and some familiar chum steps up to, with all the care in the world, and calls you by your old name. Hate, Despair, Anger, Lazy. Yep, there are a whole bunch of worse names out there than Olga. (I’m sorry to anyone named that. You may sue me later.) You will meet people in your life who call you by your old self. We will be reminded, even at times by dear and close friends, of what we were. For a second it can seem as if nothing has changed. We begin to doubt the work of grace in lives. We begin thinking that perhaps we were just imagining freedom and we never really had it at all.

Wrong again.

People in this world will continue to call you by your old name, and so will your Enemy. Beasts of the past will seem to rise from their ashes to tempt you anew, attack you anew, knock on your door anew, as if nothing has changed, as if nothing has been replaced.

You hearing the knock? Don’t know what to do?

Let Jesus answer the door.

Fact is, as long as we are one this Earth things we thought we had defeated once and for all may come back to haunt us. But just because they come crawling back, doesn’t mean you have lost anything. The fact that you believe that Jesus is making you a new creation, means that he’s in the house, and He doesn’t like to share the remote. Temptation is not sin. And failure is not permanent. Even when we do fall or give in to dragons of the past, the Grace if God is renewed every morning. It isn’t a one-time opportunity.

Jesus is in it for the long-haul. That’s why he wants to move in; so you can move on. Don’t be discouraged when you see an old enemy returning like last night’s bad curry. When we say that “the Lord will give you victory” we are mistaken if we think this is limited to “keeping the Devil away”. Jesus is powerful enough to keep defeating sin and our dark past every time is returns.

Stuck in a jungle, facing your Dino? Or bothered by an identity you can’t seem to shake?

Don’t worry. Jesus has the power to take down your past not only once but thousands of time. And he knows WAY better moves than Jackie Chan.

And you will meet good people out there who look at you and call you by your new name. Make these people your closest friends because they don’t only see you, but they see who Jesus is making you. These people know Jesus and therefore know the way it works.  He won’t let you go back there unless you want to…

The Tyrannosaurus will have to survive on veggies for now. Too bad, Barney.

The carpenter’s hands

The Carpenter's hands.wma

oooooOOOOAAAAAAHHH!

I was sitting in a public area right off the high street and was deep in thought. I could not shake a feeling – a feeling that had been gnawing at me since I woke up that morning. It was a feeling much like hunger, but deeper. Like a very  basic need that I could not yet describe. I felt like an infant crying because I felt hunger, but if my mother leaned over my crib and asked “What’s wrong?” I wouldn’t have been able to blink at her matter-of-factly and go “Well, mother-dear, if you would care to notice your watch it’s about my feeding time again and I’m awfully ravished.”

I tried to trace the feeling back to where it began. It began round about the time when I had last had a good experience with God. I don’t mean one of those where you’re in church and you’re singing a repetition of the chorus for the 46th time and you get a warm, fuzzy feeling right down to your toes. (Note: if anyone has experienced this it may not be God… your toes may be going to sleep because you’ve been standing for so long.)

No this experience is best described as a growth spurt. It can come through different ways; a new realization, a book you’ve been reading, a conversation with a friend, a silent moment. Point is, growing is not always comfy, but it gets you a little further away from Earth. And the feeling to growing closer to Him, or somehow being able to taste a tiny, little bit more of Him is simply addicting.

Yes! That was word I was looking for! ADDICTED. I was longing for more. More growth, more insight, more peace, more of Him. That was it. The more I knew him, the more I wanted to know him. The more I saw, the more I wanted to keep my eyes open for the chance of being taught something new.

I was trying to get my head around this new thought when some speakers from a near-by cafe blared the popular 80′s hit “I wanna be with you Everywhere.” by Fleetwood Mac.  Although I have never been a big 80′s fan the words caught me, and I found (even to my own surprise) that a passion welled up in my throat and I bellowed “OOOOOoooooAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! I wanna be with you EVERYWHERE!!!”

After the gentleman, peacefully reading his paper in front of me, recovered from his heart-attack and most people had stopped staring I thought “Yeah. That’s exactly what I wanted to say.” I want to be with Him everywhere. In the supermarket, on the street, in the kitchen, on the bus, at work. Not only in church. Not only in assigned “holy time”. I wanted him to be everywhere; in everything that I do and am.

If we really are in love with this Person should we be satisfied with a taster? Surely there is something in our hearts that longs for a feast. We can’t be satisfied by meeting him at church and then leaving him to sit and wait in the pews until Sabbath comes round again. The Jesus I know wants to come home for dinner,wants to watch you tie your shoes, wants to be there when you buy toothpaste and when you cry and when you laugh till you cry. He never asked to be a a figure in our lives. He never asked to be a symbol or a thought or an idea. He asked to give us life, be our life, live in our lives, through our lives. He wants to be with US everywhere! And nothing less seems to suffice or satsify.

Sometimes I wonder if this relationship is one of those “all or nothing” cases.

Maybe we all feel this hunger sometimes, and like infants we cannot quite explain it. All we do is cry. Or loose sleep, or feel empty, or find our relationships hollow, or leave Church service feeling the same way we did when we went in… We try and get more sleep, take a holiday or a day off, get some quiet time, eat some chocolate, distract ourselves. But maybe the hunger is good? It is not your body, but your heart letting your know that you need to be filled. And the one who broke Himself for bread is more than willing to feed the hungry.

He understands the infant’s cry and all we have to do is ask him; ask Him to go with us everywhere, to fill us more with him. (Although it may not be the best idea to bellow this request out in the middle of a high street.)

In the Garden

The key to understanding who we are and where we are going..

in the garden.wma

The Un-disappointed

“You disappoint me.”

The dreaded words. Worse than “You’ve been bad.” Worse than “You’ve made me so angry!”

“You disappoint me.” BANG! The bullet of shame pierces our skin and bones.

Savour the words and recall the moments as a kid when you were expecting the shower of angry words and yelling and wagging fingers. And then all you get is the gut-wrenching bomb. It doesn’t even have to have been spoken. Just a look. That awful look.

I think that, especially as children, we used to live under the constant fear of disappointing. Disappointing mom and dad, letting down our peers, bumming out, missing the mark, falling short, messing up, letting down. (You get the picture). Sure, some of us were more conscientious kids, but to a certain extent, everybody, at some point, wanted to live up to an expectation or wanted to please somebody.

But in many ways, this fear doesn’t disappear with the years. As we grow, so does the fear. Adults knows too well the fear of disappointing. We even fear disappointing ourselves sometimes. We make remarks such as “Oh man, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t get that promotion.” Or “I messed up- it’s all over.”

There’s a saying that goes “aim for the moon and you’ll hit the stars.”

Well, you know what buddy? I aimed for the roof and hit the garbage can. I think we’ve all sat amoung the garbage at some point and hid our face amongst the left-overs of Grandma’s spinach balls, and last night’s who-know’s-what’s-in-here Casserole.

And thing is? We don’t just fear disappointing. We fear being a DISAPPOINTMENT. You know what happens when we feel that fear? We move from the mistake being an adjective which defined that particular decision, to being it being a word that describes US. Disappointment doesn’t just become our game, it becomes our name.

Have you noticed how the fear of disappointment lames us? One would think that it would make more people tread more softly, or move forward more carefully, and stop at that. But instead it causes us to freeze up like pop-sickles and plant lead in our feet. We can’t move. Can’t move to the left; that might be the wrong move. Can’t move to the right; I might mess that up too. We become our own doom’s prophets, prophesying our own downfall prior to the trip. We lame our ability to make decisions and tame our passion to get up and try again.

Sadly, there are those who simply give up all together and stop even trying to do what they could do in the first place. Fear is laming. Its fruit is rotten on the inside and unsuitable for any use.

“There’s no point.”

“I can’t be bothered. I’ll mess it up anyway.”

“Nothing I ever do turns out right.”

These may seem like sweeping statements, and some of us roll our eyes at people who talk like this, blaming it on laziness and low self-esteem. Maybe some of those people really are lazy and lowly self-esteemed, but then there are those who suffer from a deeper problem. The phobia of disappointing. Call it cynicism. Call it defeatism. Call it pessimism.Whatever be your piece of pie. It’s a reality in many people’s lives.
Some are more prone to it, others not, but at the end of the day, like when we were children, there is always SOMEONE we don’t want to let down.

I know of some people, who I would dare to consider friends, that live under the constant shadow of the Giant of fear. They gnash their teeth at the mere possibility of letting down their parents; they worry their hair out about what their Boss may say if they don’t live up to standards; they bite their nails off at the dread of not reaching the mark created by their friends. We keep secrets out of fear of other’s reactions. We don’t reach out for help because our weakness may shock. Our fear becomes isolating.

“What will he say?”

“What will they do?”

“I can’t take a look of disappointment from her.”

“I couldn’t stand to let him down.”

Sound familiar? Yeah, we’ve all been there. The disappointment-appointment

; it’s in every diary.

Yeah, we all chain ourselves to other people’s standards. They say jump, and we pull out the spring-mattress.

Please don’t misunderstand. There are standards in life we should try and live up to; minimum requirements, qualifying meters. But there is a difference between trying our best, and being lamed by the fear of falling short of the best.

Ok, so if we take a minute to think about it…. we are at times worried about letting people down. But what about letting God down?

Woah.

That’s a whole different enchilada. That’s not even Mexican food anymore. How in the world can we live up to God’s standards if He is perfect and we are clearly not?

Now, the good Christians out there will be reading these lines and get out there Preachers voice. Wait for it… wait for it…..

“Now, now, Natalie. We all fall short of the grace of God. We are all sinners, but he loves us anyway.” Well done, my friend. You have regurgitated your Sabbath School lesson so well. We know who WON’T be disappointing the Pastor.

Funny, though, because I knew that line too. I knew that God loves me anyway. I knew that I was a sinner. I knew that I could not be perfect. So why have I experienced living with the Phobia of Disappointing, along with most other Christians? Why do I worry what people would think of me if they really knew each monster lurking in the dark corners? Why do we worry about keeping up an appearance of a stainless record when our lives really look more like the garbage can we hide in. Why do we believe in a grace with limits?

“Yes, he would forgive me for a lot of things. But not for this. I have gone too far.”

“God loves you anyway. But you’re in the dog-house until Heaven gets over the shock of your mistake.”

I was recently speaking to a friend on the phone. I was talking about making difficult decisions, and how I was so afraid of going wrong and messing up. I was trying so hard to strain and reach for that mark which I imagined my friend was expecting of me. (I emphasize IMAGINED) Then my friend spoke a few simple words into the phone that took my breath away and caught me off guard.

“Nat, you know I have no expectations of you, right?.”

In that moment it was like an invisible elephant moved its big butt off my chest and I could breathe again. I didn’t only feel liberated from the feeling of impending guilt and fear, but from the feeling of lameness. I could move again! I actually began to believe that it was worth a try; that I could climb this mountain and do this. My friend did not mean that he had no hope of me being able to achieve, but rather that his love for me was not pinned on this thing; it would not rise or fall at my success. Despite the outcome, our friendship or my friend’s view of me remained unaltered.

This new-born thought plagued my mind like the smell of fresh flowers. The sweet smell filled my shadowed fears. But surely, I thought, God looks at me differently. Surely I am able to let him down; disappoint him. Yes. God and me and the dreaded D-word.

It seems Jesus was not done with his lesson for that day. The Master had another couple of blows to swing at me.

I got home and continued reading the book I’m on at the moment, “Come Thirsty” by Max Lucado. The chapter I had come to concerned “Judgement” and I cringed at the title.

Ok God.
Give it to me.
Tell me how much of a disappointment I am.
I know. I’m not just any person, I’m a theology student. I know. Higher standard and all that. Let me have it.

“Your sins of tomorrow and failures of the future will not surprise him; he sees them now. Every day and deed of your life had passed before his eyes and been calculated in his decision… He sees the worst of you and loves you still.”

BOOM! Nat gets Celestially slapped up! Nothing can surprise him. Everything calculated in his decision. I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea why I had not heard this before. But there it was.

But then the awful thought; wait, maybe this is just the rantings of an Evangelical, ultra-liberal writer with questionable exegetical skills.

Nat turns to the Bible… frantic eyes glance the pages. John? Peter? Matthew? Help, anyone?

Good old, reliable Paul steps up to the plate.

“Nothing can ever separate us from his love.” (Romans 8:38)

It’s a homerun!!!

I could hardly believe it. In one day I got a lesson hit home by the greatest Teacher.
Lesson number one: I actually have friends that don’t hold the bar over the head and cringe when I miss.
Lesson number two: And I have a God who can never be surprised, disappointed, let down or shocked.

Lucado goes on to write how Jesus treated his followers after his resurrection:

“They abandoned him and ran away….When Christ rose from the dead, he never brought it up. Never. Not even one “I told you so.” Entering the Upper Room of vow violators, he could have quoted to them their own words, reminded them of their betrayal. “Boy, Andrew, some friend you are. And John, to think I was gonna let you write one of the Gospels.” But he never did, and he never will.

Bottom line? Jesus knows. Your past, your secrets, your future, your lowest and highest points. He is the father that doesn’t give you that look of “Oh my goodness! I can’t believe you just did that!” He is the one who has considered every possibly low point, and stooped lower, into Hell, to deal with them all.

Wow. Bye bye Disappointaphobia. Bye bye elephant on chest. Hello true love and being stunned by his grace all over again!!

Written on the Wind

The midnight talk

Under the stars of the midnight sky

On this night so secret, so black, so dark

Moves a figure of a leader who’s lost the spark

So lost, so hungry he take a breath

Under the stars of the midnight sky

He walks through the fields, with his fears on high

Nicodemus feels his heart and a hunger sting

He needs a lesson taught to him by the Highest King

(Chorus)

Under the stars of the midnight sky

On this night so sacred, so silent so free

The teacher of the law who’s words fell dead

Is now fed, under constellations, living bread

The Son of God and the Pharisee

Christ whispers words

Of forgotten truths

Of the Spirit of life that the law can loose

You can speak of faith and never walked in its shoes

And the path to salvation aint found on a map

On the slopes of Sinai, in the thunderclap

It’s found in the silence of the evening wind

Rebirth of the heart will the kingdom win

Unless by the spirit you’re born again

Your soul will be nothing but torn again

Cause the hearts of humanity were born in sin

We need the breath of life riding on the wind

Under the stars of the midnight sky

Nicodemus sees a mystery that’s caught his eye

Past the haze, through the maze

Jesus strips with a single gaze

And the Wiseman, stands there amazed

Cloaked cause the world don’t recognise

The bright morning star came down from the sky

To teach us a way to live our lives

Not live a lie

Like a wind, blowing fresh

Through the midnight sky

The lawgiver who flung the stars in place

Knows the innermost parts of the human race

He longs to rebirth his sons and his daughters

See the spirit of the Lord hovers over our waters

Cause the law alone can’t change the hearts of men

And a dead religion can’t bring us back again

Only Heaven’s dove recreates and mends

Let it blow, let it blow

On my heart descend

How often do I stand in the black of night

Thinking laws by themselves twist round my life

Rabbi, open my heart like a healing knife

Lift the curse, and rebirth me

Until my heart is thine

Unless by the spirit you’re shaped again

Your faith will be cloaked and draped again

Your heart will be burdened by the law again

We need the spirit of God to be born and win

Unless by the spirit you’re born again

Your soul will be nothing but torn again

Cause the hearts of humanity were born in sin

And the answer my friend is written on the wind

Enough said

Agent Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you’re fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can’t win. It’s pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

Neo: Because I choose to.

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