That is what this blog is.
I don't really like that this blog is private and I don't know if anyone reads it. if i want a journal, I should keep a journal. which I have and use. but I don't know why i have and use this blog. it's seems selfish to have a blog like this right now.
that's all i've got.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
I wish...
people could solve my problems. sometimes.
I wish I could solve other people's problems. sometimes.
I am thankful I can't. Because I am confident HE can. and I know He is the answer to all problems.
it sounds so corny and obvious. even to me and I'm the one typing this. but I need to hear these words. to fight them out. to pound them in. to study them. to meditate on the simplicity.
I try to avoid the obvious simple things. it's my defence against being the same as other people. but it's all in my head. I can be, think and study anything I want. I am justified by grace alone, and grace comes from God alone.
Praise be to God.
I wish I could solve other people's problems. sometimes.
I am thankful I can't. Because I am confident HE can. and I know He is the answer to all problems.
it sounds so corny and obvious. even to me and I'm the one typing this. but I need to hear these words. to fight them out. to pound them in. to study them. to meditate on the simplicity.
I try to avoid the obvious simple things. it's my defence against being the same as other people. but it's all in my head. I can be, think and study anything I want. I am justified by grace alone, and grace comes from God alone.
Praise be to God.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
boys a're weiwd
i think i've written a post with that title before but the facts still remain. Boys are weeeeird. Never mind. It's too complicated to explain. As usual.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
...
It's hard to see yourself under the glare of guilt and shame.
that is how I have been feeling and seeing myself today.
I came around the corner to the chapel of my heart and saw myself worshiping an idol. I was kneeling on the hard dirty floor facing away from the alter and it took me a minute to figure out what was happening. The posture was easily recognizable but three things were wrong: the room was dark when it normally is illuminated by grace, my body was facing the darkest corner instead of joining into communion, and my heart beat was an irregular rhythm and pattern. I could feel the tumult of unrest and pain hit me like a wall as I reached out to brush the matted hair of my own image off the shoulder of the kneeling me. And as I touched her, me, I wanted to scream. She, I was barely alive. Starving and cold as the clay on the bottom of a creek.
But life reflected onto us from the alter behind us. And even from the moment I saw her, me. the life was joining us together. I would have been truly dead if I couldn't see her. If myself had entered the room unaware of her, me, I would have heard the strange whisperings in the dark corner and my own body would have shriveled into the skeletal creature with hands out stretched clawing at the sand that had seemed to be the one thing. But the light of the alter reached my eyes before I could see anything else in the room and that momentary blindness, that glint of the eye, gave me a moment of peace in which I could see. and that glimpse, of the worst of me, stretched out, grasping in terror, with her eyes, my eyes rolling back in her head, my head. That image, contrasted so starkly against the soft light, that I couldn't look at her for long before I was compelled to turn away, my back to the dark horrid corner and my face to the clean air around the lit end of the room. It was all so terrible. It was all so horrid.
To look at that light and know what was sitting behind me. To know I was there. I was. She was.
That is what is making me sick these days. Not the sorrow of serving or missing the idol, but the disgust and horror of having served. That aspect of who I am is there. Now perfectly redeemed but the working out is hard. And I need to let the Light overwhelm and stain backwards over the darkness.
The light of the alter bends. tat is why you can tell it isn't normal light. somehow there can't be shadows in this Light. It's hard to notice at first because we don't look for shadows very often, they are the negative version of the object. But the Light I saw could reach around me and flood between the black corner and my sorrowful form. Gradually reaching into every crack and crease of the broken form collapsed on the floor behind me. Until she too, me also, both of us were soaked through. Drenched completely. Powerfully submerged.
Undeniable salvation.
that is how I have been feeling and seeing myself today.
I came around the corner to the chapel of my heart and saw myself worshiping an idol. I was kneeling on the hard dirty floor facing away from the alter and it took me a minute to figure out what was happening. The posture was easily recognizable but three things were wrong: the room was dark when it normally is illuminated by grace, my body was facing the darkest corner instead of joining into communion, and my heart beat was an irregular rhythm and pattern. I could feel the tumult of unrest and pain hit me like a wall as I reached out to brush the matted hair of my own image off the shoulder of the kneeling me. And as I touched her, me, I wanted to scream. She, I was barely alive. Starving and cold as the clay on the bottom of a creek.
But life reflected onto us from the alter behind us. And even from the moment I saw her, me. the life was joining us together. I would have been truly dead if I couldn't see her. If myself had entered the room unaware of her, me, I would have heard the strange whisperings in the dark corner and my own body would have shriveled into the skeletal creature with hands out stretched clawing at the sand that had seemed to be the one thing. But the light of the alter reached my eyes before I could see anything else in the room and that momentary blindness, that glint of the eye, gave me a moment of peace in which I could see. and that glimpse, of the worst of me, stretched out, grasping in terror, with her eyes, my eyes rolling back in her head, my head. That image, contrasted so starkly against the soft light, that I couldn't look at her for long before I was compelled to turn away, my back to the dark horrid corner and my face to the clean air around the lit end of the room. It was all so terrible. It was all so horrid.
To look at that light and know what was sitting behind me. To know I was there. I was. She was.
That is what is making me sick these days. Not the sorrow of serving or missing the idol, but the disgust and horror of having served. That aspect of who I am is there. Now perfectly redeemed but the working out is hard. And I need to let the Light overwhelm and stain backwards over the darkness.
The light of the alter bends. tat is why you can tell it isn't normal light. somehow there can't be shadows in this Light. It's hard to notice at first because we don't look for shadows very often, they are the negative version of the object. But the Light I saw could reach around me and flood between the black corner and my sorrowful form. Gradually reaching into every crack and crease of the broken form collapsed on the floor behind me. Until she too, me also, both of us were soaked through. Drenched completely. Powerfully submerged.
Undeniable salvation.
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