Throwninto theSea

What if all I ever did was run?

Would not my existence be lost under certian circumstance and possibly become undone?

What if all I ever did was dance?

Would not my purpose in life be more like a fluid motion of romance?

What if all i ever did was sing?

Would not the my melodies make but a simple bird among the trees?

What if all I ever did was speak?

Would not my reality be that which was only about me?

What if all I ever did was listen?

Would not even the birds in the trees share their stories with me?

What if all I did was sleep?

I would be nothing, to no one, and that cannot be. 

An arbitrary attempt at writing something that should have been written long ago, in light of the many things already written about by pen and with hope. The sun never finds its end, because it seeks to sleep once again but rather in a race unknown it hopes not to hear the morning drone. Yet, sleep deprived beings unreal to the sleep surprised beatings of the suns arrival upon the end or what it may seem to some, the beginning of a cycle. The moon more desired always finds it’s rest upon our souls being inspired with the mellow drowning of daylight seeping through our fingertips last breath. In this reality, utter silence is the symphony that no one will dream laying in a garden of leaves left by autumns last bloom. A story told in seasons that no one hears among their own train of thought blind the deaf from theories that seem most important to the hearing of hope in a desolate place. And in the lose of many things that seem important, importance is misplaced where hope is best displayed. From flesh to bone, the heart only knows. From lips to teeth, an avenue simply for the mid to speak. From hand to hand, hope is shared with best intention. Any only we know what is important as we see the last hope. 

Humanity is a beautiful reality, an experience that should be capitalized. The blood in our veins and the moist dew on our lips have created experiences through the centuries that have both made people so happy they can’t do anything other than cry, and so upset that often death is on the rise. As brutal as life can be, happiness is also part of humanity. To excuse emotion would be to excuse the ability for Humanity to feel apart of their home. 

So one day there was this guy named Jesus, He was from a small passable community called Nazareth. Around the age of 30, Jesus had become a Jewish Rabbi. In the midst of His teachings, He spoke of this idea that humanity could be whole. He talked about a humanity that would exist again in perfect reality. 

Well wait, does this mean that all of the things we experience now and even back to when Jesus talked of this that we were/are not whole already? Does this mean that reality isn’t a completed form?

Have you ever had a moment when life looks like heaven? In other words, have you ever had a moment where you said, “If this is what Heaven is like then I would be happy.” The reason why we can say this is because it is not. Reality now is not heaven or whole or completed. But then what was Jesus talking about?

Jesus was pointing us toward a Hope, Good News of true Humanity and a completed reality where emotions heighten and fall on an earth that is perfectly structured for more spectrums than we can currently comprehend now. 

We are home now. But Jesus isn’t offering, rather He is showing us what Home will look like when all things are redeemed. 

In other words, we won’t ever say again, “If this is what heaven is like…”

Rather, we will simply experience wholistic humanity in it’s perfect height. 

Often, I feel like a child. Today is one of those days, and I love it. 

Other days, I act like a child. Today will hopefully not be one of those day, and others will love it.

Then their seem to arrive days when I feel, and act like a child. On those days, only my parents will understand.

I hope for days when neither are true. These days will find favor with others, and explode with productivity. 

I hope still on these days, that my feelings and actions find the child again…at least before I fall asleep. 

 At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. “And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.             -Matthew 18:1-5

oneelleofablog:

((If I make it to heaven, I’ll make it, bloody as hell.))

…I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I remember seeing a sticker that said, ‘If Christianity was illegal, would there be enough evidence to convict you?’ That evening I had a dream that it was true and that I was summoned before a judge. the prosecution has quite a case against me. They begin by offering the judge dozens of photographs which show me attending church meetings, speaking at religious events and participating in various prayer and worship services. Next the offer up as evidence some of the religious books that I have been reading, followed by some CDs and trinkets. After this they step up the pace and reveal to the court many of the poems, pieces of prose and journal entries that I have written about faith. Then, in closing, the prosecution twist the bloody knife that they have skillfully used by offering my Bible to the judge. This well-worn book with scribbles, notes, drawings and underlining throughout-evidence, if it were needed, that I have read and re-read this sacred book. Throughout the court case I have been sitting in fear and trembling, saturated in sweat. I know deep in my heart that, with the evidence against me, imprisonment or even death is a strong possibility. At various times throughout the proceedings I have been on the verge of standing up and denying Christ. But while this idea haunts my mind, I resist the temptation and remain focused. Once the prosecution has finished presenting their case, the judge proceeds to ask if I have anything to add, but I remain silent and resolute, terrified that if I open my mouth, I might be weak enough to deny the charges made against me. I am then led away while the judge ponders my case. After about an hour I am summoned back to the court-room in order to hear the verdict and receive word of my punishment. The judge enters the room, stands before me, looks deep into my eyes and states, ‘Of the charges that have been brought forward I find the accused not guilty.’ ‘Not Guilty.’ My heart freezes. The, in a split second, my fear and terror are transformed into confusion and rage. Despite myself, I stand before the judge and demand that he tell me why I am innocent of the charges, in light of all the evidence. ‘What evidence?’ he replies in shock. I start by pointing out the various poems and journal entries I have written, but he simply replies that they only show that I have a way with words. I then refer to the services I have spoken at, the worship meetings I have participated in and the conferences I have attended. But again he simply smiles and tells me that it is only evidence that I am a public speaker and a bit of an actor who pretends to be what he is is not - nothing more. And then he says that such foolishness would never be enough to convict me. The dream ends as he looks me in the eye and says, as if informing me of a great, long-forgotten secret: ‘The court is indifferent towards your Bible reading and church attendance; it has no concern for worship with words and a pen. Continue to develop your theology, and use it to paint pictures of love. We have no interest in such church-going artists who spend their time creating images of a better world. We exist for those who would lay down that brush, and their life, in a Christlike endeavour to create such a world.’

-Ikon