Moving On
"Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant. 12If you puff yourself up, you'll get the wind knocked out of you. But if you're content to simply be yourself, your life will count for plenty.
I want my life to count for plenty. I don't want for my life to be wasted. I won't be erased when my physical existence ceases. This is simply not an option.
While the bread that molds & is devoured by the birds of the air is forgotten tomorrow, I pray that the seeds of my spiritual existence continue to germinate & produce the fruit that remains. I believe the lies no longer. I refuse to accept the falsehood that my pleasure & His glory are 2 mutually exclusive events. They are as homogeneous as a match on a fire.
Indistinguishable.
I couldn't believe the words that fell from my lips. The moment surreal. The offer genuine. To 1 spiritual bigot, who I really don't care for, but love.
How does this happen? This doesn't happen in the 'real' world. It happened in mine.
Lately I feel more like an observer of 1 who looks vaguely familiar. Sure, the shell looks the same, but inside something's gone awry. A good awry.
I continue to press on. To explain the paradox upon which my house stands. The physical mirrors the unseen now. Perhaps it has always tried to, but went unrecognized & had to be reeled back in & be put under proper 'subjugation.'
The spittle now still moist in my eyes, I see clearly for the 1st time. This new sight is matched with resolve to forsake the half-light for complete radiance from the Son. This place always scared me before, but not now.
Now's the time. To emerge from dimly lit lamps & blaze into the darkness. We've tried it the other way around in attempts to give the lamps their worth, but they refused to be. How worthless is a lamp that refuses to shine?
No matter.
I've got my orders. Some may be angry & not understand. This is just more of the same.
There are still miles to go before the setting of the Son. I wasted too much of the day already. I pray that I'm not too late.
I'm moving on...
I want my life to count for plenty. I don't want for my life to be wasted. I won't be erased when my physical existence ceases. This is simply not an option.
While the bread that molds & is devoured by the birds of the air is forgotten tomorrow, I pray that the seeds of my spiritual existence continue to germinate & produce the fruit that remains. I believe the lies no longer. I refuse to accept the falsehood that my pleasure & His glory are 2 mutually exclusive events. They are as homogeneous as a match on a fire.
Indistinguishable.
I couldn't believe the words that fell from my lips. The moment surreal. The offer genuine. To 1 spiritual bigot, who I really don't care for, but love.
How does this happen? This doesn't happen in the 'real' world. It happened in mine.
Lately I feel more like an observer of 1 who looks vaguely familiar. Sure, the shell looks the same, but inside something's gone awry. A good awry.
I continue to press on. To explain the paradox upon which my house stands. The physical mirrors the unseen now. Perhaps it has always tried to, but went unrecognized & had to be reeled back in & be put under proper 'subjugation.'
The spittle now still moist in my eyes, I see clearly for the 1st time. This new sight is matched with resolve to forsake the half-light for complete radiance from the Son. This place always scared me before, but not now.
Now's the time. To emerge from dimly lit lamps & blaze into the darkness. We've tried it the other way around in attempts to give the lamps their worth, but they refused to be. How worthless is a lamp that refuses to shine?
No matter.
I've got my orders. Some may be angry & not understand. This is just more of the same.
There are still miles to go before the setting of the Son. I wasted too much of the day already. I pray that I'm not too late.
I'm moving on...
posted by lee at 10:05 AM
1 Comments:
Hey bro,
Not sure what this means. I assume those who know you have a better perspective on your post.
I hope you'll be around here in blogsville.
I admire your desire to be consumed by God. You may or may not know this, but I think you may be a mystic ( the real definition). If you have read anything from various folks who are Christian mystics who may find that you relate to their passion for God. Anyhow, I imagine if you live 1800 years ago you'd want to hang out in the desert or you'd be martyred. God put that on your soul.
Any how, I am rambling, but wanted you to know that I admire your passion for Christ.
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