Consuming Fire

I was a blaze of fire,

A pile of gas-covered kindling,

And the match was dropped.

And I burned so uncontrollably hot that the flames licked at the walls,

And so we threw water on the fire and squelched it,

And I stepped back, dripping and wondering what

On earth

I had done wrong.

I want to be on fire. I want to be passionate and zealous.

I want to look in the distance and always see the hope dancing on ahead—

But we were scared.

I was scared. Because fires can be warm and good,

But they can destroy and consume,

And I was burning fast like a wildfire, hungry for change.

Oh God, oh God, oh God,

I want to be more than a fire that burns for a while,

Then goes out and leaves only smoke behind.

I don’t want to burn,

And yet I do, I do.

For the fire that rages through my soul and courses through my veins

Destroys the dead trees that bear no fruit.

It opens up the barren womb of the pinecones so that they may bring forth life again.

It rids me of distractions and curling, suffocating weeds,

But the rocks remain.

And by the power of God, these very rocks will cry out,

Proclaiming that Christ never changes, He stays the same.

I’m willing to burn for that.

Because when the soil is tilled again, it shall be more fertile than before,

And roots will grow deeper and stronger.

These trees will stand firm beneath the storms,

These trees will bear fruit.

So I shall burn,

And I shall burn unapologetically,

For this fire was not of my own making or created by my own breath,

This fire was placed in my heart before I was even born,

Knowing that I would struggle even to take that first breath.

Oh Lord, teach me to burn, but not burn up,

To lead but to surrender,

To hold firm to hope and to stand fast on truth,

Plant a courage within me that is stronger than my selfish will,

And a pure heart to beat in my chest.

For unattended, the fire will destroy all that I hold dear,

But under your mighty hand it will preach your truth.

For you, oh Lord, are a consuming fire.  

PFYTF: To Build a River

Penny For Your Thoughts Friday, May 22 Edition!

From Pinterest

Today, we built a river.

Well, okay, it wasn't a river. It wasn't even a creek. We merely diverted all the water that was pouring off the mountain from the rain we've been getting off of the road and into the river.

And man was I proud of that thing. Because it worked. We pushed our shovels into soft ground, we levered out rocks, we patted and pounded and we made that little current of water flow into where it was meant to go.

Like, so proud. Like I just wanted to watch it flow.

There was a waterfall.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. The beauty of it was overwhelming and the fact that I was part of the team that just diverted that water gently.

Can you imagine how it must have felt to create the world? How crazy is it that our ecstasy when we create or accomplish something or something is borne of the work of our hands, all of that is a reflection of the joy of the Creator when He said, "Behold, this is very good." I mean, that just makes my brain go !!!!!!!!!!!!!

So yeah. That's the thought that has been whirling around in my brain and I needed to solidify it on paper otherwise it would have been like, "RIVER! Precious river. So beautiful. I'm so proud. Oh river, river. Oh man, yeah, God is so good. Oh man. River. It is so pretty! I want to go look at it right now. Oh man, it's so satisfying for something to work out like that."

XD

What'cha all been thinking about lately?

Floors and Prayer

From Pinterest

Have you ever washed the floor? Not with a mop, I mean down on your knees, scrubbing one patch at a time.

Scrub, scrub, scrub, polish, scoot back. And repeat.

When you first see the floor, there’s a moment of internal panic because this floor is big and your rag is small.

But you kneel down, you take a deep breath, and you scrub hard.

It’s funny how much that sounds like prayer.

Prayer is sometimes a tricky thing for me. A lot of times it’s a, “Oh, man, it’s bedtime and I need to pray” type-thing, without really feeling the spirit moving within me, just feeling the urgent desire to sleep.

Kind of like scrubbing hard a floor that looks like it'll never be finished.

But that floor was finished.

That thought explodes in my mind, moving me with the utter awe of this--

"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." (Philippians 1:6)

I mean, how powerful is that?

It's like scooting back as you wash your floor. It gives you perspective. All of the sudden you see a little strip of clean floor where there was once dirty floor--you see the renewal and transformation of your mind and spirit as you are sanctified and grow closer to God.

Can we just take a moment to say, "Wow!"? Because seriously, guys.

That is amazing.

May we always pray with the hope of scrubbed floors set thick in our minds. 

Hope Realized

Is this hope realized?

We floundered in the ocean’s abyss of pain,

Deep in the heart of the hurricane,

Where death was a mystery of fear,

And loneliness was all that we knew.

Now the blue sky appears like an intake of breath,

Like the storm didn’t break us after all.

And oh, my soul, the leaves are still green,

And as the broken branches are cut away, we realize—

This is not loss, it is gain.

The heaviness of sorrow only taught us what is strong,

Where a sufficiency of grace planted and tended through hail and through drought,

Where something small but bright and green grew.

So perhaps this pillaging of soul is hope realized.

Perhaps what we thought we knew as an attack,

Was an answered prayer after all—

Weeds, uprooted from the soul,

Dead branches cut away, lifeless blossoms pruned.

And growth came to destroy the seedling we loved,

To take away the tender shoots,

And to replace them with something stronger—

I thought,

That my garden was dying, Great Gardener.

That my garden was dead.

But a dead tree does not sprout up again in the Spring,

This I know.

A dead tree does not sport blossoms that melt into fruit—

A dead man does not rise again for no reason.

And so, perhaps this is hope realized.

A portion of it, at least. A little piece of answered prayer,

God transform me anew, make me Yours and Yours alone,

May this broken image of You be pieced together,

And renew a right spirit within me.



Fellowship

I'm going to surprise the bloggy world and tell everyone right off the bat that this post is not about LOTR.

Now that I've got that off my chest, I also have to get something else out before I forget. Not that I actually would forget because Treskie is the Besttttt and I love her, but SHE HOLDETH A GIVEAWAY. GO LOOK SEE. The problem here is that telling you guys about this on my blog is sort of a double agent thing because I get another extra entry, but at the same time, I make my chances slimmer because all you guys know about it now and will enter. -_- ;-)

Okay. Now I'm going to slip my headphones on, turn Josh Garrel's new album, Home, up loud, and get going on this post.

Last night was my last night of Bible Study before I leave to go work at camp for the summer. Bittersweet is a good word, because I'm stoked for camp, but over the course of the four weeks I went to Bible Study, something lovely was built.

How incredible it is to simply be in the presence of a group of young people who are on fire for God, dedicating themselves to studying the Bible and to dig deeper than "mainstream Christianity" would have them.

I'm going to admit right now, it was hard for the first two weeks. Being so painfully shy, I would come home fighting tears because I was so frustrated with being a wallflower, not being able to participate in discussion because I felt like my thoughts weren't good enough or just because I was too embarrassed to talk at all. So I prayed. I prayed hard, man. I was like, "God, please change me into an extrovert." Because extroverts are the cool ones, right? They're the ones that just make you feel accepted and loved because they are good at talking and sharing their lives and all that good stuff.

You want to know what God's answer was constantly?

I love you.

Okay, thanks God, but as for what we were actually discussing....how does next Tuesday sound for you on the whole total-Hannah-makeover?

I feel like you guys can all freely quote Eilonwy here: "Are you slow-witted? I'm sorry. It must be terrible to be dull and stupid." ;-)

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;

you discern my thoughts from afar.

You search out my path and my lying down

and are well-acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord,

you know it altogether.

You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful to me;

it is high; I cannot attain it.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?

Or where shall I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there!

If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!

If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

even there your hand shall lead me,

and your right hand shall hold me.

If I say, "Surely darkness shall cover me,

and the light about me be night,"

even the darkness is not dark to you;

the night is as bright as the day,

for darkness is as light with you.

For you formed me in my inward parts;

you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there were none of them.

 -Psalm 139:1-16

 

My God did not slip when He was forming me, nor did He make a mistake when He designed my personality. And He loves me.

 

So I take a deep breath, and I go into Bible Study as all of my introverted, shy, frightened self.

 

One of the lovely young ladies was there, despite the fact that I was pretty early. It was guacamole night, so I dumped my avocados on the counter, and she, beautifully a natural leader, got me to work.

 

Task number 1: find a juicer. We found one, an old one that looked like it had been invented in the 1800s and not used at all for at least ten years, but we were going to just go with it. So we cut our limes and I began to juice them.

 

It was laughable, really. The juicer was a little too big for our little limes, and it was so not user friendly. I had to hold it in my left hand while grinding the lime with my right hand, trying to keep the little contraption steadily over the measuring cup that I was juicing into. We experimented with a few things to try to make it easier--squash the limes hard before cutting them, warming them up in the microwave for a bit--but it ended up being a whole lot of limes flying out of my hands and skittering over the floor, a whole lot of lime juice on my hands and on the counter, not very much lime in the measuring cup itself,

 

and a whole lot of laughter.

 

Fellowshipping over cooking (or any sort of service) is the best ever. There is kinship in every moment of failure and triumph, there is deep love in rolled up sleeves and standing side-by-side, chopping garlic and squeezing limes.

 

And when that cilantro smell seeps through every corner of the church kitchen, bonding happens real quick.

 

This is the image of the Wedding Feast, as close as we can get on this war-torn earth.

 

Wondering where I might begin
I hear a voice upon the wind
She's singing faint but singing true
"Son, there ain't nothing you can do
But listen close and follow me
I'll take you where you’re meant to be
Just don't lose faith."

So I put my hand upon the plow
Wipe the sweat up from my brow
Plant the good seed along the way
As I look forward to the day
When at last I'll see
My father run to me
singing, “Oh, my child."

Come on home
Home to me
And I will hold you in my arms
And joyful be

There will always, always be
A place for you
At my table
Return to me

-from "At the Table" by Josh Garrels

 

And behold, this is very good. May I never lose heart, knowing that God is with me, whether I be sitting behind the computer or overcoming fears at a Bible study. He is my stronghold, the shield of my help, the sword of my triumph.

Writers Write

Wow, where to even begin? The past few days have been awesome (if tiring) and even more awesome stuff is coming up. My mind is in a bit of a whirl, really. :-)

First off, on Saturday, one of my favorite artists/writers, the esteemed Andrew Peterson, came to my church to do a talk on songwriting (which obviously related to storytelling as well) and then a concert that night.

Oh, what a day that was.

I could really go on about how amazing that was, but I am trying my best not to bore you. So I'll just let Andrew speak for himself through his music--one of my favorite songs of all time, and the one he finished the concert with, and then I shall move on to the point of my post.

In fact, if you listen to that while you read the remainder of the post, it'll probably make my words seem awesome. Either that or really lame. -_- ;-)

 

So.

 

Writing.

 

You know, I've found that the more that I write, the harder it is. Not to scare all you wannabe writers off, but, well, it's true. Writing is a bit of a step of faith, every single time you sit down to the computer.

 

Andrew Peterson compared it to gardening. It's a lot of work, a lot of dirty work. And most the time it's not fun.

 

But writing, like a garden, bears fruit.

 

As we sat down at the lunch table with a girl we didn't know (this creating community thing is sometimes super hard for us introverts, but yet, so worth it) we bungled through conversation until I realized that we had connected. We were writers. True, she was a historical fiction and time travel kinda gal while I've got myself buried in a Steampunk book, but that didn't matter one bit.

 

She laughed at our shared, current problem of writer's block and said, "My sister keeps sending me memes about how writers are supposed to WRITE, ya know? And I just say, 'I AM GOING TO!'" I chuckled over my glass of sparkly pink liquid (not sure what it was but it was tasty) and replied, "I feel ya."

 

But those memes have a deep truth in their rather irritating message. Writers write. Just as gardeners garden.

 

Andrew said (because he says things so much better than I do), "If you want to grow weeds, do nothing."

 

But I don't want to grow weeds with my writing. I don't want to wrangle through a mess of untrimmed plots and choked out characters when I occasionally do sit down to write because I've caught some sort of "Spring Garden Fever" as it were.

 

Writers write.

 

Every day.

 

Most of it will probably be rubbish. But gardens don't bear fruit overnight. They don't even sprout in one day. You tend that tender shoot day after day, through rain and hail and big boots and children's fingers digging where they shouldn't dig, through every voice in your head that causes this terrifying unbelief that someday something tasty or beautiful will grow.

 

It takes daily work to cultivate our stories.

 

Now, this is the part of the post where I pledge that I will write every day or challenge you to do the same.......

 

But I am suddenly overtaken by a strange beast and am swept off to an adventure beyond imagination!

 

(Eh, I'm stalling this because no matter how inspired I am to be a writer, it's still hard to write and I'm also a lazy bum ;-))

 

 

 

But yet...

 

Here's to writer's writing. I know there are going to be days where I don't write. But I'm going to give it my best shot. I am going to write Beyond the Burning Sky (my current WIP) and to the best of my ability, I am going to write every day, whether it be BtBS or poetry or random observations or whatever.

 

But more than that, I am going to constantly turn my work over to the best Gardener of them all--for God is my stronghold, my strength, and all my words and without His grace I wouldn't be a writer at all.

 

Soli Deo Gloria!

 

Miles in the Rain: a Poem

I didn't have the chance to get my own picture before the rain stopped (and it wouldn't have been nearly as lovely), so this one is from Pinterest)

I could walk for miles in rain like this

The constant sprinkle that paints the world green

It’s cold, but it’s a good sort

The kind of icy depth in which you know there is growth.

And I, like a poet, cannot help but rhyme the world

Place it in cadence with the presence of God

I cannot splash in puddles

For my shoes must be dry today

But perhaps on the way home, that will change,

And I shall jump in so deep that the ankles of my jeans

Will be wet with this funny sort of redemption.

I glance down now and see my image,

Distorted in the murky depths of gathered raindrops,

And I wonder—

Could I walk for miles in spiritual rain like this?

The constant aching that puts a dark cloud over me?

Do I have the courage to say that this chill of disappointment

Has an outpouring of grace and growth

That, though hard to see is also hard won?

How can I see God in the mist that hangs low over the hills,

Yet I am blind to Him in the veil that I grapple with

Whilst in the heart of my journey Home?

Why so afraid to slog through the soul-mud that weighs me down,

Yet so willing to dig hands down into this wet, black earth after the storm?

For there is a storm in my spirit, where flashes of pain are followed by

The thunderous silence of God, when I feel I need Him most.

And every disappointment is a gust of wind,

With me too weak to stand up against it.

It pushes me in all the wrong places, and it beats at my soul,

And when I look in puddles I see only everything I don’t want to be.

Yet—

Could it be?

Could I walk for miles in rain like this?

The word on my lips is the negative, yet—

I have. And I look back over the space traveled—

Hard to see, but not invisible through the fog,

Miles.

So I can walk for miles more.

And I shall dig my hands down into the mud,

And when I draw them up they shall hold joy.

 

P.S. See my awesome blog design? It was done by the lovely Emily over at Twenty-One Designs! I'm so grateful for her talents, and she did it for me all for free! So if you're needing that sort of thing, I definitely recommend! She's amazing.