White Hot

Let there be no more frustration, no more pangs of the heart, and no more helplessness. See the situations, see the real enemy. Sound the trumpets for war, give the battlecry. When barriers approach, know who the real enemy is. Get angry. Let it burn white-hot on the inside of you, and go to war.

We are here to smash the works of the enemy. We will demolish the fine-sounding pretensions that set themselves up in opposition to our Lord. We will not let people walk in slavery. We proclaim freedom for the nations. We do not simply acknowledge His will, we carry it. We bring it into every situation, into every street and every bus and every room.

We are not perfect. We are not powerful. But we want to be obedient. Obedience will release the floodgates of Heaven into this world. Do not give in to sadness, or self-pity, or helplessness, or frustration. See the enemy, and get angry. Keep the flame burning white-hot. Keep your faith in the days ahead, do not look to the past. The enemy will use the dissappointments of the past to destroy your future. Do not let him succeed!

Burn white-hot, and keep the faith.

What He Felt

I walked through the gathering dark of the night, with an uneasy feeling that something was following me. The wind whipped around me, and icy rain hit my face. I looked around, but nothing was there. I could see it in my mind's eye - a gigantic figure - like I always imagined a werewolf would be. It was on top of me. Was it me? Shrouded in darkness, no features other than that outline. It stalked, hungry and ravenous. Eyes glowing like half-spent coals.

A cruel barbed whip lashed out, and he stumbled sideways. His arms were bound to the cross-piece, and he was helpless to support himself. This was the man the predator stalked. He knew, he felt it, he heard the wicked laughter. He walked alone, miserable. He was a man familiar with sorrows and suffering. He walked into the blackest pit of despair, and said, "Father, forgive them". How did he do it? How? What secret lies in the heart and the soul that we could, in our despair, be consumed with compassion? Teach me your heart! I hate my own, only looking to itself. I hate being limited. I hate it when I hesitate to help or care. I hate coming home, to be consumed by my own tiredness and self-pity. I HATE IT!

I returned to the weaponsmith, resolute in tears. I leaped into his furnace, to see what he'd make. It burned away the padding I'd built up in denial. It left nothing but what was established in Him. I cried in anguish, as he removed what was left. It was the size of a marble, with a fire inside. That was everything in me. Now I hope, and I watch, and I wait, as each time he beats out the metal and folds it, it seems a little larger. Maybe one day I too will be a sword. Maybe I will never make it.

Looking for a Star in a Long-Forgotten Place

It occurred to me, as I wandered miserable through the worlds of my dreams, that I had taken a wrong turn somewhere long ago. I turned back and retraced my steps. I looked through the forgotten places of my memory. I turned over the stones that had settled on the graves of my hopes. I dug and dug.

I looked even deeper, pulling back the veil of the past. I looked for that faint star of light that would show me where to go. That would guide me to the answer. I wandered lost in dark forests of the unknown, I traced a million feelings and paths. I flipped through many photo albums of faces in my mind.

Slowly, my soul became uneasy. Had I really taken a wrong turn? I must have, to end in a wrong place. I searched deeper, I looked harder. Always I arrived at the same place. There is a nothingness inside of me that cries out to be filled. Do I even know what love is? Unconditional? There've always been conditions. I didn't have conditions - and I was crushed where I stood.

Fortunately I was saved. I was shown unconditional love. For every wrong decision I made, it was paid back with healing. For every mistake I made, it was covered over with grace. When I cried and thought my world would collapse, there was one hand there to hold me together. Only one.

I turned to try loving unconditionally, and how it hurts. I gave my everything, and had it thrown back in my face. I worked til I was exhausted, and was mocked for crying 'No more!' I looked at those mocking faces, and wept for their bleak future. If only I had more to give. If only those faces would let down their guard for just long enough. Maybe somewhere in there the hardness would dissolve, and life could begin.

I turned then to those with life, hoping to find kindred souls. I found them, and I found something more amazing. I went to them, spent time with them, laughed with them, and then looked into eyes that did not see me. Must we all be so caught up in our own lives and desires? Free me from myself! I want to see beyond my four walls, and walk into the infinite universes of others...

The Man with the Golden Eyes

I saw a man with golden eyes in front of me. Solid orbs of gold. He was a blacksmith, standing in his forge. Something inside me recognised him; I'd held his swords before. He beckoned me closer. As I approached, he turned and picked up a blade.

"This is my final creation. It is my most beautiful weapon."

I recognised the power of the sword. It was a sword of salvation. As he turned the blade in the light, I saw an inscription on it. It simply said, "MAN".

Pieces of a Dead Man

I've written often about feeling like there's nothing left of me.... but that's not true. The more I learn about myself, the stronger I become and the bigger I become. What I struggle with is letting go of the pieces of the old man inside me. He lived, and he died when God showed up. His legacy is fear, pride, and insecurity.

Why is it so hard to give up the last few pieces of that dead man? I don't want them.... but those insecurities are still there. I'm facing them daily, and they'll have to go for me to move forward. It feels like I'm trying to rip those last few pieces of flesh off my bones. The pain is deep, and it's not preventable.

I look forward in great hope to the day when I wake up with the old man inside me finally dead. My hope is in the day I wake up to the limitless possibilities of a life lived with a boldness I own.