Dragons

To the girl on the bus drawing dragons,

Don't stop.

You're an amazing artist.

Don't let it go.

You're a beautiful person.

Don't let this world quench you.

You're gonna make it.

Don't think you're weak.

You are alive and breathing, you're far from helpless.

I hope the best for you.

P.S. I'm sorry for not telling you this in person.

Overland

"'One word, Ma'am,' he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. 'One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things – trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say.'" - Puddleglum's Speech, The Silver Chair

Winter

"Lord, you are the God who saves me;

    day and night I cry out to you.

May my prayer come before you;

    turn your ear to my cry.

I am overwhelmed with troubles

    and my life draws near to death.

I am counted among those who go down to the pit;

    I am like one without strength.

I am set apart with the dead,

    like the slain who lie in the grave,

whom you remember no more,

    who are cut off from your care.

You have put me in the lowest pit,

    in the darkest depths.

Your wrath lies heavily on me;

    you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.

You have taken from me my closest friends

    and have made me repulsive to them.

I am confined and cannot escape;

    my eyes are dim with grief.

I call to you, Lord, every day;

    I spread out my hands to you.

Do you show your wonders to the dead?

    Do their spirits rise up and praise you?

Is your love declared in the grave,

    your faithfulness in Destruction?

Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,

    or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?

But I cry to you for help, Lord;

    in the morning my prayer comes before you.

Why, Lord, do you reject me

    and hide your face from me?

From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;

    I have borne your terrors and am in despair.

Your wrath has swept over me;

    your terrors have destroyed me.

All day long they surround me like a flood;

    they have completely engulfed me.

You have taken from me friend and neighbor—

    darkness is my closest friend."

Finding Home

We live in a mismatched world. We play the part we're told to with little regard for talent or courage.
There is no "right-fit." The papers can only print the words "generalization," "racism," "sexism," "misunderstanding." We're all a crazy bunch of kids running in circles in need of something to hold onto.

In this world that can't distinguish the grays, how are we supposed to respond then to a beckoning?
If some meaning calls out can we even hear it through the salt and pepper fights on the screen?

Home isn't a place you live, it's not a location, or even a state of being.
Where do you belong, where you mean something, where you smile:
That's the hint of home, the teaser of the rich secret.

The forest, the trees.
The sea, the waves.
The meadow, the flowers.
The stage, the thrill.
The knowledge, the books.
The sounds, the music.

That's finding it,
Get on your way,

Home.

we dont see Each other anymore

all we see is how many Packs you smoke
how many people youve slept with
what your doctor told you Was fact
what your broken heart told you was true

the real Individual has been replaced
with a ghost comprised of the condition
a wraith created By the problem

the pain the sorrow the torture
all Become our defense mechanism
to keep out the pain the sorrow the torture

i see a standin a fake no more you no more reality no more no more

were not blind we Just dont choose to see
were not broken we Just let go of our wholeness

we dont Have the strength to get the strength to get the strength

our scream reverberates In our ears
the first cry doesnt stop because its the last cry

and Again
we miss each other we run right past them
and even forget to glance back

and all they get At the end of the day is
i miss you
because we dont know how To give anything more

Sought

Something in me has always longed to be chased after.
I suppose I easily relate to dogs and their fascination with having their human owners running after them aimlessly. There's a certain sense of meaning that arises when someone chooses to make the direct effort to seek you. It's an unspoken proof of love.

That is my love language.

In the misguided name of being an introvert I ran away with the hope of someone chasing after me.
I spent so much time alone waiting for someone to come and find me. Because if someone did come and find me, then I would know. I would know that I know that I know that they care. That they wanted me. That I was truly loved by them.

So I thought it a failing of man that so often I was left on my lonesome. Just me and the sky, the trees, or the grass. But it was not man that failed in this instance. It was me.

When I'm alone, I'm not.
Have you ever wondered why people of varying religions find so much satisfaction and meaning in meditation? They get away, they're alone, they're detached from the flow of trouble and mayhem.
But me, in my perfectly secret place, I tried to connect it again. I wanted to interject more humans into the equation when that peaceful solitude was meant to have a lack of people.
It isn't surprising that I was so often unsatisfied. I was doing it wrong.

Because now when I'm alone, when I put the cross before me and the world behind me, when I let go of all the chains that I myself am holding pressed against my chest, when I say, "Here I Am," then the lightning strikes and the flood comes.

And there I sit.
Me. Alone. Sought.

Yeah, alone is indeed the wrong word.
But I don't mind, because every time I go there now, someone shows up.
Every time.

Inexplicably Joyful

In a time of sorrow, moments that are fully awash with sadness, there is peace. There is a soft smile on my lips.

I am inexplicably joyful. And this is said whilst sitting amidst a pile of ashes. Only God could bring about such a marvel.

I walk on the bright coals of my failed dreams and despised hopes. The confusion of brutality seems closer than necessary. Even so, I tread with faith from a faulty heart.

As uncompassionate as pain is, it can still be the catalyst and the answer to your cry, "Bring me closer."

Though the stab of brokenness is debilitating it is equally beneficial to force us from our constrained thinking to the reality of trust and desperation.

Only God could convince me of this.

Excerpt from "Drip Drop"

"I Love You."
what an odd phrase.
we make it meaningless when we
really
mean it to be
meaningful

we're not very good at this

I peeked my head out and wondered what life would hold.
Looking out over the faces staring I thought why, who, where, how, what, when.
I'm still asking those questions.

I don't know why everything happens the way it does.
But I know that it happens.
I know that I'm here.
So what next?

The girl cries and weeps
The man rages and foams
The woman worries and runs
The boy lies and lusts

I don't know why people hurt each other
I don't know why I let people hurt me
or why I let myself hurt others
But it hurts all the same

Her head is laid on my shoulder and I think
"maybe in this moment she's okay."

He tells me what happened
I pray with him and I think
"maybe in this moment he's okay."

She smiles at me and we sit down quietly and I think
"maybe in this moment I'm okay."

but i don't know

in this i hope:

                            someday
                   we'll
          be
okay

..............................i love you..............................
          ..............................i always will..............................
                    ..............................i'm here........................................
                              ....................though i'm lost........................................
                                       .....................i'm here..................................................
                                            ......................though i'm broken........................................
                                       ...................you know i will fall........................................
                              ...................you know i will shatter........................................
                    ...................so don't try to save me..............................
          ....................because only he..............................
.............................can........................................        

Solitude

          “Spirituality is not to be learned by flight from the world, 

          or by running away from things, 

          or by turning solitary and going apart from the world. 

          Rather, 

          we must learn an inner solitude wherever 

          or with whomsoever we may be. 

          We must learn to penetrate things and find God there.” 

          Meister Eckhart

Pouring out, spilling over

To drown me

to swallow me

Slits on my wrists, slits on yours

Flooding out

again again again

Draining more than you know

Letting go more than you want

i can’t stop it

If you help me, then you bleed

If you’re fixed, then I bleed

over and over and over

What to stop the rush

What to bring the calm

to breed more than a corpse

My veins run dry

Yours run out

of what we need

Fainting

Cannot stand to see this anymore

no more please

Please

Someone who won’t die when I touch them

who won’t run out

Blood that won’t spill vainly as mine

Some to help us

to mend

Hold my tears

Feel my scars

i don’t want to be alone

i want you to help me

but I’m scared

please help my unbelief

Wander

a

little










farther

אמת

Truth

“The perfection that we can muster up.”
“The love that we can convey.”
“The vulnerability that we give to others.”
“The only thing that’s real.”

I am an imperfect man living in a shattered world.
Crawling to my feet, crawling to see the light, straining to see the understanding.
What can I give to this world? What can I give to my loved ones? What have I to offer?

My love? Yes. But how?
How do I say it, how do I show them, how do I convey the cascade of blood pumping within my soul?

Truth. All I can offer. All I can give. I’ll give you the truth and no lie.
I’ll give you the reality and nothing but. Here’s my heart, I’m not hiding it.

This is my turn. You can rub up next to me, wrap your arms around, sit quite close.
But I don’t feel that. So I’ll give you what I can.
I’ll speak the language I’ve been taught by my heart and my soul.
This is honesty. This is truth. My love for all of you.

I will not lie, because I love you.
On the day that I lie to your face, you have found a man who loves no more.
Pray you don’t find me there.

Here I am.
A man who loves with a word of truth and a sentence from his heart.
I’m not hiding. Look inside. This is me.

Micah 7:8

I laugh so I don't have to cry.

I smile so I don't have to moan.

I sing so I don't have to wail.

I dance so I don't have to crawl.

I live so I don't have to die.

I am joyful even if not happy.
I am alive even if surrounded by death.
I have hope even when broken.
I've found love even in desolation.

I am not strong, but I am sustained.

I am not good, but I am filled.

I am not able, but I am walking.

I will fall, but I will rise.

I will walk in darkness, but the Lord will be a light unto me.

Shell

          I looked in the mirror.

          That's not me.

          I stared deep into his blue eyes.

          No. That can't be me. I'm me and that... isn't.

          His eyes followed my every movement.

          How am I so different from this? This is what everyone else sees.

          But not me. I know what's deeper. That can't be me.

          I spoke to the man in the glass.

          What are you to me? What do I do with you?

          The man just blinked and walked away.

Difficulties

Life is hard.
It's a constant battle that we most often feel we're losing.
And there are many enemies that we fight.
The mountains that stare us in the face.
The difficulties that rival our faith.
And somewhere along the way we lose perspective and shatter.

Well, that's what I've seen in my life.
But no matter how far I run, or how broken I get,
there is always something that remains the same:
His love, His Spirit, His joy.

A song:
Only You can love me
Even as I break Your heart
Only You can break me
And remake me into something new 
~ Made New

Job 5:18
For He wounds, but He binds up; He shatters, but His hands heal.

God's will has always been upon my life.
Sometimes I've listened, other times not.
But no matter how much I lose myself or I feel that I've lost God,
He's still there.
He hasn't changed.
His will is still better.

But the thing is, I like running. It's easy.
And hiding, I like that too.
In the nature of humans,"Fight or flight,"
I have always chosen the latter.
But, for some reason it never works.
And it accomplishes the opposite of what I want.

Psalm 139:8
If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: 
if I make my bed in hell, behold, Thou art there.

But the Holy Spirit always draws me back.
From tears He brings me to a loving embrace.
And He encourages, He builds up.
He restores.

Even still, I never think I can do enough.
I lack faith, and I lack trust in the Lord.
Because I rely on my power and ability.
And in my pursuit to do everything I can to help others, I just end up being a weight.
Then condemnation sets in. And again, I want to run and hide.

But every time, God is there.
Every time I'm broken, He mends me.
For He alone is my salvation.

Matthew 11:28-30
"Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”

The first two verses have always been easy to understand and a constant comfort that I have turned to for encouragement in all times.
The last verse has often confused me.
"For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”

In that statement, God wasn't promising an easy life.
I don't see it as so.
What I'm learning is that He was promising one thing:

Himself.

Because He is all we need.

Psalm 23:4
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.