poem
Poetry, When You Pray

Wild Donkeys Go Blind from Starvation

Pigs and pearls

And little girl dreams

And the nothing

More than what I’m not.

And you,

A

Sharp-mouthed

Word

Birthed by an

Empty

Belly.

 

Your flint tongue

Set the

Grass on fire,

But can you

Eat the

Ashes?

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poem
Poetry, When You Pray

The Disaster is Coming

My mouth

Is spoken

But hollow

And torn

Demonic

With evil

Things

And thoughts

And peeled

Inside, the

Tongue and

Tissue,

Flaked away

Like skin dying

In the sun.

 

Sin is sometimes

The only thing

I eat, less

Calories, slim waist,

And I take

That quick image

With my eyes

Like it’s the only

Picture worth

Seeing.

 

Grant me

Freedom,

Dead serpents,

Clean air,

A fiery heart.

Because no

Good deed goes

Unpunished.

Let me know

The punishment,

Like I know

The hard parts

Of the dark.

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Poetry, When You Pray

Once You Were Like an Olive Tree Covered in Fruit

There you were,

Deeply rooted

In whatever

Lie shrunk your heart,

Branches clawing

At a sky who

Wouldn’t save

You.

And do you know how

Many times

I look in the mirror,

Feel the skin,

Dig deep

Nail by nail,

To find where

My own roots

Have knotted

And lost the

Urge to

Drink?

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Killing pride.

My god is me.

I’ve never had a hard time loving myself.

And hating myself.

And focusing on myself.

It’s the sin of pride. Of utter disillusionment.

And it’s all over Twitter.

It’s all over the world.

Our fear is tricky.

It has a way of coiling, snake-like into our knees and elbows.

It becomes us.

And we play victim to it.

Sometimes, master.

But then for a few of us,

there’s that moment we give it up.

We exchange the world for the One

who created it.

And we’re left with fresh eyes,

Old lens and retina scalpeled

and peeled, soaking in a hot-white

reality where truth is buried deep

and lies are swallowed whole.

We are new.

Fresh.

But the stink

can still seep into

the pores.

There’s always

a stalking, walking

lion,

ready to devour.

But then again,

there’s also the

hopefully-winged

beating of our

hearts.

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She talks to Jesus.

I talk to Jesus all the time.

But not in a super weird religious way that doesn’t fit right but in a sort of, “Oh hey there, best friend, this guy is offering us free popcorn. You want some, too?” kind of way which often gets me kicked out of Wal-Mart.

It’s like I take Him in by osmosis, deep breath by deep breath.

And I think it might be for a few reasons:

  • I’m growing deeper in my faith journey. I’m learning more. I’m learning to love others which has never been my cup of tea. I’m making myself available to people, which I supposed is part of that whole loving thing. Again, it hurts. (The fact that my husband and I routinely joke about my icy heart and RBF should tell you a thing or two. Which he kind of loves because I can’t be moved, y’all.)
  • The world is ending. I feel like one of those crazies on a street corner with the sign and unwashed hair but the crazy has worn off and all I see is a deep commitment to truth in their eyes.
  • I’ve cut the fat. There are so many distractions on the daily. I’ve removed so many in my life that I now feel like I have my finger on the pulse of who God is and who He created me to be.

Perfection? Ah, heck no.

But growth? I’ve got that one down pat.

And really, it all began with one little word to the Father Almighty:

“Hello.”

Insert Adele sound clip here.

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He loves you, not your Lexus.

Commercialized Christianity.

I termed it this way to one of my very cool blog readers (Hi, Daniel!), and it’s stuck like gum to the shoe that is my brain.

Or something like that.

I don’t know if you feel it, but it seems pretty prevalent. Doctrine based on the prosperity gospel (this concept that financial blessing and physical well-being are always God’s will for a person…um….have these people met God?) and other false doctrine tends to lend itself to this new-fangled term.

Or maybe it’s old-fangled. Maybe there’s a whole Wikipedia page about it that I’m too lazy look up. In that case, apologies.

I guess my issue now (as well as back in the day when God was the last thing on my mind…right after getting an “oil change.” I mean, that just sounds gross) is that people turn the grit and grime of Biblical living into a beautiful little present with just the cutest little bow on top.

Have you gone outside?

Nothing cute about that mess.

This life is no different from when Moses was wandering out in the desert, face in his hands.

True, Christ came and He rose and we have that good news (no wait, BEST news) in our hearts that makes this life so worth living now.

But there is absolutely nothing cutesy and safe about this walk with Christ. In fact, let me remind of you something:

So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:33 

When Jesus had called the Twelve together, he gave them power and authority to drive out all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. He told them: “Take nothing for the journey—no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra shirt. Whatever house you enter, stay there until you leave that town. If people do not welcome you, leave their town and shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them.” Luke 9:1-5

As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.”
Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”
He said to another man, “Follow me.”
But he replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”
Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”
Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.”
Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” Luke 9:57-62

It might just be me, but I’m getting the sinking suspicion Jesus isn’t too concerned with how many Lexuses I own.

I’m not saying having money is bad. I’m not saying being prosperous is bad. And I’m definitely not saying that’s not God’s will for you.

What I am saying is that your security, safety, and good fortune are not the point of the Gospel.

Jesus is the point of the Gospel. How He lived and died and loves you and me and every sinner in this world despite the fact that we certainly don’t deserve it.

Maybe, just maybe we shouldn’t read the Bible to learn about ourselves, and instead, read the Bible to learn about Him.

One last note: Have you ever read the Book of Job? Do you understand the point of Job’s story? It’s this idea that God allowed so many horrible things to happen to poor Job, not to punish him, but to elevate him to a spiritual status like none other.

God loved Job. So God gave Job a trial to further their relationship together and to release Job of everything that doesn’t matter in this world.

Everything but God.

And I can assure you this: Job never received a Lexus.

And I have a feeling that Job didn’t care.


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All the thoughts in my head.

Last week I started getting panic attacks again.

An all out black fear that wouldn’t let me breathe.

It tried to convince me God doesn’t exist.

And I was choking on that lie, that misguided belief.

Before Jesus, I pretty much ascribed to the theory that my mind was dented sometime during the manufacturing process and all of my thoughts were simply the result of an imperfect production process.

I think differently now.

Sometimes I’ll be thinking something and it’s woven into something darker and larger than myself which facilitates such a deep fear that I know didn’t do this all on my own.

I’m not that talented.

I know I had help.

The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” (2 Corinthians 4:4)

And I think sometimes Satan still roams, preys on those whose eyes are finally open and now live with the deepest faith. 

On the intuitive ones who have known him for the longest time.

I mean, wouldn’t you want back what you were once convinced was yours to keep?

How easy to take a mind, to snatch at what God has created and render it fruitless.

But how easy to know and love a God who’s never really let it go in the first place.


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