a handsome rouge
I bought his candy rhyme
he said, “ooh baby we’ll be together for all time…
a gypsy rogue roams
he wanders far and wide
he always says he loves me, he loves to drink my wine…
dark wee hours bring despair
when I awake and he’s not there
a gypsy man cannot be true
he’s the same man I just saw dancing with you…
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A pact forged in eternity passed, present, and future between the three persons of the Godhead. Heavy stuff you say? Not even the tip of the iceberg…think on this a while… An eternal agreement in which The Father God sent the Son of God on a mission that he (The Son, Jesus) gladly obeyed to every jot and tittle so that the Spirit of God could come and reveal all to those who believe…
Jesus does not need for us to SAVE people (he does that alone and without help from us), manipulate people, abuse people, shame people, destroy people and/or ourselves. He cannot be bought for a “book” deal, a “mega” church, or even for “good” charity….
In spite of all you’ve said
it’s never been in your hands
So let us speak a farewell eulogy
over all our plans
Light the match that burns the bridge
that doesn’t lead to Grace
Now I clearly recognize
I am a stranger in this place
Every street I’ve walked upon
had to be redeemed
The places where I lay my head
never felt like home it seems
Light the match that burns the bridge
that doesn’t lead to repentance and Grace
Light the match that burns
the alters and idols we have made
It is a Lover’s dream we all have to tell
It is a Ship of Dreams that never did set sail
I wander in and out of a sleepless fog
Hearing peaceful song that draws me to the Throne of God
“Your fierceness has deceived you, the pride of your heart…”
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I hit rock bottom. For me it wasn’t an addiction that spiritually bankrupt me. It was me, my desire to be my own god that brought me to the end of my self. At rock bottom someone was waiting for me. He had been there all along. At rock bottom I remembered like the younger brother in the Prodigal Son story that I had a heavenly Father who was calling out to me to come home! I love that the Father’s heart has not changed toward his Child and I love that the son’s heart has deeply repented (changed) regarding his actions and his deep regret of his rebellion and sin…
With the daily news full of young and old stars overdosing or ending their own lives makes me ponder what is “Rock Bottom” for us all?
who’s at the bottom of the bottle?
who’s at the end of the needle?
who’s there after the divorce?
who’s there after the empty nest?
who is there when the man comes to you and tells you you have cancer?
who’s there when you have all the money in the world or none at all?
The Cleft at Rock Bottom is the only the One who delights in us. The only One who counted the cost and yet charges us nothing. If I have learned one thing in life it is that the Refuge I have found in God through Jesus Christ is the only Refuge that is offered freely.
He gives an open invitation to come and be sheltered in the dwelling of God, The Most High. At rock bottom Jesus is the cleft in the rock. I encourage anyone who might read this post to come! Come and abide in the Cleft of the Rock that is Jesus Christ.
“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: My God, in Him will I trust.”
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A penny for the boy
A peony for the girl
Oh the losing and winning
The dying and living…
Cry for sorrows
Laugh for joy
Smile at the mirror
Frown at the noise…
I want to stay right here
In this mess called “life”
Scare it off the pages
And watch it sparkle in the light.
Photo by Gratisography
It seems to me that all people who I know, even those who don’t agree with me politically or spiritually, long for redemption in some form. They want to be heard. To have value. To redeem the things inside of us that hurt us and others. These automatic responses of “defensive behavior” which only seem to widen the gap in our ability to be relational in this world must be exposed for growth to occur.
We seem to mix up guilt and shame into a toxic cocktail that instead of leading to redemption gives us a false sense of entitlement or justice…”well, I have behaved like this because so and so was done to me…” Or, we fill up our “empty self” with something to make us think we matter…
As I grow older (63 in December) I have a passion for myself and the people around me to, as one writer puts it, “have the freedom to doubt, to have fear, to fail, to be overwhelmed, to be angry, to have passion…that is the dignity that God gives us…that comes from God living deep within me…This IS the Christian conversation.”
In my recent study (almost three years now) of Job’s life I am so strongly compelled by his (Job’s) conversations with God and his friends and family. Job experiences every grief, emotion, pain, failure, fear, and joy that is the human experience…He loves God, he gets angry with God. His friends support him AND forsake him…his family is taken away, his wife mourns without him. He is utterly alone and physically ill yet all the while he is aware that God is present and that THIS conversation going on is the one that all the other conversations (life) are perched upon…
The thing about Jesus and His cross of atoning death and his Resurrection is that it is for everyone! Anyone! Billions before us have known this is true. We are “invited” to come and see that the Lord is good. Then we are invited by his holy power to grow up an invite others. No one is not welcome at the cross. Never forget.
My friend, Dr. Hud McWilliams, who is a great teacher and thinker and counselor told me the most challenging part of his work is to convince adults that your largest part of growing is STILL TO COME. He said, “you should grow until death.”
Some deep thoughts today no doubt but this is the conversation of life that drives me…I am grateful for it and see it as a huge gift…something to think about…
A silent prayer to the close of night
bloodied and battered in the morning light
No more walls or secret places
ashes to the wind from trash to Grace…
The ribbons of sadness all broken away
Redemption’s song the melody of the day
I will meet you at the road and the sky
over the edge I will let my spirit fly…
Turn my mourning into dancing
I clap my hands with the rocks and tree
The Benediction to the new day coming
a wedding feast for my Beloved and me…
Well I tried to make it Sunday
but that ocean tide came calling
I stopped on the way for some Tupelo honey
just know my soul needs healing…
My Angels have grown older now
though they do not tire of my journey
they bring comfort to my soul
they guard me in my worry…
There are no words needing to be spoken
there is no darkness I cannot face
I will sit beside the ocean blue
and for a time it will be a resting place…
I feel I am my best self when I write. To portray life as it is as well as it should or could be. I suppose that is what a painter feels as well or a dancer, a sculptor…
Writing brings me a contentment in the moment not feeding the future or regretting the past. Sometimes when I hear or read a string of words together my ears perk up like when the wind whispers in them.
I know that I’m not saying anything new but for me writing feels like the process of the sea’s relentless movement or the running river water as they both over time smooth the sharp edges off of broken glass or a rock and reshape them into something beautiful to behold.
I know most things never change but to attempt to express a feeling or fragrance or a picture using words is my passion.
Here is an example of what I am saying…
Wisteria grew along the weathered splintered gray fence that had long been forgotten. The fragrance of the wisteria permeated the bright spring day and it made her feel lightness in her heart that she had not experienced in a long while. She thought about how precious her memories of first love are for there-in lies treasure in the pleasure and the pain…
I feel a story coming on…to be continued I hope.
For many years as a young adult I felt like a “watercolor wash” painting. Blending into the dominant colors of those around me who had so much influence on my life. I didn’t even know my favorite color, food, or music. I didn’t know what I believed about life and death…and I realized I had to paint with my very own colors. My gentle memories run to those persons and I love them whether they were harsh or gentle. They had dreams of their own but listened to mine anyway and for them I am grateful…
The first and glaring color was a bright arterial red. While red is not my favorite color there is no doubt in my mind there can be no redemption without the shedding of blood. That color represents the day I met Jesus Christ and let him become my Redeemer.
The next and my favorite colors are the blues and greens of the sea and sky. The ocean, the beach is where I walked stronger and healed my heart. The salt water and wind a balm to my young weary soul. These colors are where I learned that I will live forever and that I can soar on the breeze or dive into the depths and behold my God is still there.
Yellows, pinks, and violets are the colors in my life where I flew too close to the sun and my skin was burned but the new skin grew back pink and healthy. The rich flora hues and scents drove me forward toward the goals of softness, children, and safety. Still and always learning…
The rich dark color of the brown/black dirt with its earthy scent comes next for after all this is where this earthly body was formed…how can a human not love the earth? Deep within it lies the mystery of creation and purpose…and then the clear snowy white to emerald to muddy silt of the rivers that run to the sea…a Holy Baptism there…
The last and final colors in my watercolor are silver and gold. The bright and shining stars of the galaxies. These colors remind me that I am significant but small and even greater still these colors are a testament to the infinite bigness of my God. The one who loves me beyond all measure and always will. So, I will keep painting for now and let the fire keep burning bright. On that day that I lay down the paint brush I will have said what I have to say and make my stand humbly and always trusting that life will carry on…and oh yes, I will keep painting…
Jill Autrey Dorman 