Naked I was born, Clothed in His righteousness, by His faithfulness I will live.

I stand lingering in this quietness, in admiration of the majestic and commanding giants as they shed their glorious coverings exposing their nakedness before God and man, shivering, silent if not for a whisper.

Their weighty coverings, countless in color, are thrown to the ground, melting into the dark soil nourishing the roots as they thrust themselves deep into the bitter and unsympathetic earth.

White falls; like a cavalry onto its adversaries it presses forward. A messenger declaring that the King ought not to be forgotten, for He prepares the earth for His return. Stripping bare both mighty and modest alike, cleansing the weary roads we have wandered down all year, to set before us a new path. 

Now elevated arms stretch toward the grey vault, reaching out, trembling in sanctified fear and in praise of their King. Knowing that though He allows a season for winter He will not forsake them, for He is always faithful to bring the spring.

Life after Death.

It’s a breath and a whisper but I hear the music in my soul, softly now it grows, shooting up from the old earth its been enslaved in for so long, surviving in the icy snows, I can hear it louder now “Its time to go…its time to let go”.

Like a wild green vine twisting its way around my heart, uprooting older, deeper plants, stubborn plants that have grown brittle in the cold, clinging to the ice they love so much, they begin to sway and crack under the weight of this new creation, groaning as the warmth of life ignites its branches.

I feel the unyielding pain of death at the hands of unyielding love; I feel the triumph of new life, rushing to the loosened earth of my soul. Breaking me is making me whole.

Its melodies are bitter sweet, a ray of sunlight, rushing forth like a chariot, in a storm of clouds and thunder, rushing forth, brilliant messengers of salvation, only to be swallowed up by the grey, leaving only the memory of the warmth and light, it is enough… it is enough.

There is a war being waged for glory, and everyone wants their share of what they don’t deserve, and they will fight to the death and further still to ensure their royal crowns of stick and mud don’t melt atop their blaspheming heads in the frightening light of true Glory.

I have heard the song; I cannot remain as I have been. Yet I cannot fight in this newly revealed nakedness of mine, if I try to fight in my own strength I will die. If I were to put on the iron shield of a king I would be crushed under the great weight of this glory that pours out of the heavens. I lift my eyes to the hills, from where does my help come... from where?

My hands shoot up from the mud, twisted broken and trembling under the weight of this struggle. A chorus is now singing the song that started as a whisper, it is lifting me up, breaking off and tearing out the remaining roots that would cling to death and tie me down. The Glory that I feared would crush me is raising me up to new life.

The melodious sound of rebirth breaks out and resonates within me, the sound of cleansing water pouring out to mark and claim this victory is devastating to the darkness, which once threatened to consume me. The darkness is dispersed, death has lost its sting, and so I sing… I sing.

 I am given a robe of bright white reflecting a much deeper red, and a crown of gold and silver has been placed on my newly anointed head.

 As the unfolding mystery of this abounding love is made known to me through this mercy I become staggeringly aware of the mud clinging, stone worshiper that I have been and of all that now, through grace, I have become. I fall on my face, casting my crown into the sea of glory at the awe inspiring and beautiful feet of the one who is the only source of life and light.

As my adoration blooms in the spring of this new found victory, flowering in every glorious footprint, spontaneously bursting into delicate petals of joy, unfolding at every precious word and breath that flow forth unceasingly onto my heart. Reaching out with every leaf to feel more of the light, and with every new bloom of praise from this vessel of mercy comes a sweet aroma being offered up onto the holy mountain on which the feet of Glory rest.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.”

A moment in time

I am sitting at my usual corner in my usual and increasingly familiar coffee shop. I hear the low warm hum of milk being foamed to a frothy perfection and the buzz of espresso being ground and pressed into a portafilter for the hot water to rush through it, taking the earthy flavors for a ride down into a shot glass and mixed with various syrups for the customer at the counter. The smell is overwhelmingly enticing. Resting on the balancing act that is my small wooden table are two things I rarely come here without; A worn leather book with holy words on every page and a journal with my thoughts on those most precious words.

As the flood waters of my mind pour out into trickling thoughts and meandering memories I can smell old cigar smoke and wine, and hear the sound of dusty books being rustled to life again by the cold air and cracked open by old men in their church coats, with their nimble fingers tracing the binding of the ancient volumes.

To watch the thoughts long forgotten come out to play on an older yet familiar face, to see them roll over every wrinkle and fold and dance round the curved edge of the aged mouth.. This is what I love.

New year, new place, new blog!

Okay so, as indicated in the title it is indeed a new year, I am also in an entirely new place both in location and in my own personal and spiritual journey in this foreign land, and this new blog is here to share my thoughts, tales of adventure and woe, the many hills on which wonderful husband says I'd gladly die on, as well as, no doubt, my many ramblings!

My personal goal is to write at least one blog post a month this year, with my life as it is right now.. this is a huge goal! And although just in the nick of time for January this post deserves a little slack considering I had to create my site first!

"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
 “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”"