This idiot misses you

Midnight odes. 

I miss you like an idiot misses the point,
But I'm no idiot, and you get the point ;
You understand that my heart was concrete you stepped on before it dried, and now there's a stamp I can't erase. 
If I sound foolish, maybe I am the idiot 
And you are the point.

Blunts of Grace

"If sin is something that you understand yourself to do on occasion, well then grace might be something that you need on occasion; but if sin is something you are, then grace must be something you live by; grace must be in fact Him living in you. " JH

"Father forgive me for I have sinned." I said as my knees touched the ground. I was really getting tired of this. "Your word says to approach your throne of grace to receive help and mercy in time of need". I needed a fix, another blunt of grace. Another pick me up, I was feeling low. I knew this feeling all too well. Yet despite my best efforts and knowledge, I seemed to end up at this point each time this temptation came,

In my heart I asked, "I know. I know. Yet I still come to this end. Is there no end?". 

Yesterday I heard a brother talk about Paul, and the thorn in his flesh. He noted that whatever was happening was in the realm of the flesh, not the spirit, and despite the discomfort it brought, and the longing he had for God to take it away, it remained. God's response was always "My grace is sufficient." It was not an overcoming grace but a sustaining grace.

Paul after that experience decided to boast in his weakness for it was in that that God's power was made perfect.

Selah.

I try so much to overcome this. It angers me. In the flesh, I would be pleased by it but in the spirit, I find great distress. I find myself a slave in the flesh. I often tell God, something different would have been more workable. A different weakness. Something I can control. Something where I can apply my power and strength. 

A preacher man one time said to get rid of the distress. To make war. War. To exercise my human capacities; mental in this case - to be resolute, to choose to do the right thing. I tried. I failed. 

I ...and it occurred to me then. I.

In all of this, I come first. I detest the shame. I hate the weakness. I hate it. Christ I only come to as an enabler. A blunt to ease the pain of failure. 

The grace I desire is like the "Break Glass in case of fire", when there is no fire I can manage on my own. See, without realising it, the weakness has been about me and no one else. I feel like sometimes I took on Christ to appear sane and cultured, not a bad boy, an outcast. I received a self centred salvation. Something that cleaned me up. 

How I have been deceived. 

Often, without knowing it, God's Grace is a mere blunt. Something for me. Yet grace is Him living, not me feeling better about myself. The more I say I, the more I realise I need to get out of the way and boast in the weaknesses. A free man is sans fears and cares of self preservation; seeing this, I find my idea of freedom has been an illusion. Walking with a very long leash thinking I can move far from where I am chained.. I even realise, love is not comprehended for perfect love casts out all fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of loss. 

His grace is Him bringing me into His death, a death I could not die and even if I did, would not be accepted to the Father. His grace is His life taking over. It comes to the place whereby I live by it, yet not I but Christ. Oh but He needs to reveal this to me to the core; inside out lest I put on a show.

Lord, undo me. Take me to that place where it is not I but Christ. I take too much care to myself. If it is letting me fall free, let me. Unhinge me. Remove me from my sights that I may walk in your light. Open my eyes to the grace that is your life, not my emergency button, or blunt. Erase me, establish you. I pray.

Amen.

Awakening

See, my Saviour,
I am waking up,
Though I feel like a man
Waking up from a very strong stupor.

There are no scales in my eyes
But gosh, these eyes are heavy
And the new light that shines
It starts with itching but thankfully soothes.

I am waking up, Saviour
To the reality You've called me into-
I rise but I am used to gravity
So my heart races as You raise me up.

I want to be where You are;
Yet indeed that is where I am,
But the winds and voices from below
Would accost my ascension.

But I am awakening;
This dead body is responding to Your life
Albeit slow and stubborn at times,
I know my old life is not here any more.

I am awakening
To the sound of Your voice;
There's a secret key my new ears respond to
They are keen on the life in the words You speak.

What can I call you Lord,
A word that can resonate with my heart's mind;
Abba, Saviour, Lover, Friend?
Oh, that there was a word to say it all!

There's a flame in my heart
As I think on You-
That You brought me into a needed death
A death that is accepted to the Father because it is Yours.

And a life and resurrection
Docked in You;
My life has gone, Yours has come
My time has passed, Your day is here.

I am awakening Lord to this new day, new life
As you breathe in me, defeating gravity;
Adam has gone - Christ is come
My whole being rejoices and sings!

Hallelujah for the death, resurrection and the life
Zion is home, heritage and life;
The Messiah has brought me into His own
A new day is here in Christ alone.

Image: The Awakening (1980) is a 70-foot (21 m) statue of a giant embedded in the earth, struggling to free himself, located at National Harbor in Prince George’s County, Maryland, USA, just outside the District of Columbia. It was created by J. Seward Johnson Jr. and originally installed at Hains Point, Washington, D.C.

[ Read More at www.homesthetics.net/the-awakening-by-j-seward-johnson-jr/ © Homesthetics - Inspiring ideas for your home.]

Nova Aetas

Feeling empty, but you are everything
Accosted by noise, but you are the silence.
I walk a path of which ground you are
There is really nothing you don't fill.

Simple words like undeniable,
Undeniably deny you your grandeur
Yet you exalt the humble and lower the mighty;
You undo my familiarisations of the divine.

You are that piece of paper I write upon
And yet the pen with which I write,
The thirst in my soul for you
And the drink that quenches it.

You're a flame consuming
And the oil that spreads it,
Engulfing and clearing
Dust to dust, ash to ash; that no flesh remain.

I want no part of myself to stay
Except the part that is awake to your day,
Eyes walking in the light
Heart beating to your life.

New Zion,
I am waking up to adoption
Visions of the past unfolding reality
In this one man, all things find life.

image:thelegacyletters.com