The authority of God made all creation. But it was the affection of God that made all His children.
You are made of the dust of this earth, and you are made of the happiness of heaven. You are flesh and you are spirit, and you are of two worlds longing for the home of forever and Him.
No matter your story before, this is your beginning now: you were formed by Love…for love.
– Ann Voskamp
The moment that he begins to walk along it, the warrior of light recognises the Path.
Each stone, each bend cries welcome to him. He identifies with the mountains and the streams, he sees something of his own soul in the plants and the animals and the birds of the field.
Then, accepting the help of God and of God’s Signs, he allows his Personal Legend to guide him towards the tasks that life has reserved for him.
On some nights, he has nowhere to sleep, on others, he suffers from insomnia. ‘That’s just how it is,’ thinks the warrior. ‘I was the one who chose to walk this path.’
In these words lies all his power: he chose the path along which he is walking and so has no complaints.
Paulo Coelho
Manual of the Warrior of Light
The sun punches through the cloud gaps
with strong fists and the wind
buffets the buildings
with boisterous good will.
Bad memories are blown away
over the capering sea. Life
pulls up without straining
the jungle tangle between us
and the future.
Easy to forget
the last leaves thicken the ground
and the last roses are dying
in their sad, cramped hospitals.
For gaiety’s funfair whirls
in the gray squares. Energy
sends volts from suburb to suburb.
And April, gay trespasser,
dances the dark streets of November,
Pied Piper leading a procession
of the coloured dreams of summer.
“April Day in November, Edinburgh” by Norman MacCaig
There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
a shatteredness
out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is a sorrow
beyond all grief which leads to joy
and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.
There is a hollow space too vast for words
through which we pass with each loss,
out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being.
There is a cry deeper than all sound
whose serrated edges cut the heart
as we break open
to the place inside which is unbreakable
and whole
while learning to sing.
The Unbroken by Rashani Réa
I stood in the surf
waiting
for what I was to receive
I looked at,
then past,
glistening rocks,
colored shells,
green sea glass,
none of them were right.
My back was to the Sound,
Waves coming and going,
Sand shifting under my wet feet.
I scan,
wait for what I must recognize –
then I see it.
this?
a black glob of rocks stuck together
browns and grey and bits of reds
it’s ugly
it’s heavy
it’s rough
it’s jagged
it’s not what I thought I wanted,
it’s not what I thought was valuable.
what is it, that the water has just delivered,
and I feel lead to pick up
to cart home with me?
I want it to be romantic.
Maybe…
I search for romance…
a meteorite?
a mystery from another planet?
I walk the mile home,
wondering what lessons I will learn from this ‘gift’
I have just received from the ocean.
Almost home,
one more curve,
I spot my favorite kinda caterpillar,
the brown and black,
softest, loveliest velvet
crawler in the world.
I loved the feel of them as a little girl,
let them crawl all over me.
I pass it,
then double back,
as directed by intuition,
to visit this small friend.
I am bent down,
and my fuzzy friend moves along,
and recognition comes.
I carry,
in my hands…
asphalt,
ASPHALT???!!!
a piece of the road,
which came to me by way of the ocean.
I belly laugh
as I my lesson,
my gift,
becomes clearer.
I am,
right now,
every moment,
in the ocean of grace
no matter where I am
the path is in the ocean of love,
of God.
The road is everywhere!
It rises to meet me.
It comes one chunk at a time.
This is gift –
teaching me what I need,
bringing me diamonds with each step.
Living,
and breathing,
thanks
is the best gift.
We are always loved
The message is waiting in
every surf
every leaf
every tree
every song
every heart beat
every tiny created thing
every little moment breathes and burns.
Remove your shoes,
dance wild by the fire,
dive into the sky,
sing loud and long –
holy,
holy,
holy
and fly away
home.
I’ll meet you there!
xoxo
ACL 9/22/14
Above all temples
You chiefly prefer
Oh Spirit
The heart upright
and pure.
Instruct me
You who know
For You were present
from the first.
You sat
dove like
With might
and outspread wings
Brooding over
the vast abyss
And made
it pregnant.
Oh Spirit
what in me
is dark
Illumine.
The prayer of John Milton as he took up his pen to write Paradise Lost
I lost my shadow to find myself
I lost my house to find my home
I lost my money to find my value
I lost my motherhood to find my children
I lost my belongings to find my treasure
I lost my song to find my words
I lost my words to find my silence
I lost my illusions to find my voice
I lost my ego to find my truth
I lost my knowing to understand
I lost my anger to find my peace
I lost all my people to find my friends
I lost my insecurity to find my joy
I lost my surety to find my mystery
I lost my perfect to find my human
I lost my dogma to find my divine
I lost my seeing to find my sight
I lost my pride to find my beauty
I lost my fear to find my faith
I lost my religion to find my love
I lost the world to find eternity
I lost my failure to find my victory
I lost my light to find my dark
I lost my dark to find my fire
I lost my will to find my life
I lost my life to be reborn
Sometimes you have to lose everything you think is most important,
to find what really is.
AL 8/22/14
perhaps we are
saving each other
one song at a time
reborn, drowning
in these oceans of grace
endlessly moving
wind, waves, water
kissing the shore
achingly beautiful
true colors
of black and white
melting together, dancing
in and out
through each other
ever weaving, creating
new life
filling the empty
emptying the full
like music
itself
AL 8/18/14
That our God would only be safe if He were dead.
But He is the Living Word and His Word is a flashing, double-edged sword and He doesn’t write Himself into neat five-point outlines but He is like the wind — and He speaks in parables that subvert and poetry that ignites and metaphors that jolt and there is nothing safe or small or stiff about Him.
That’s what I am thinking as I scrub smudge marks off cupboards, try to wash away all these marks. Thinking what the Beaver said of Aslan:“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver.“Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
There is nothing safe about the Christ who rent the veins and the veil to save us — He is Divine and He is Dangerous and He is Detonating. He is no tame lion.
What did Randy Alcorn say and in the most Scriptural sense? “It’s dangerous faith in our untamed Savior that leads us to the joy we crave.“
And what the world desperately needs is more dangerous disciples of an unsafe God.
He is wholly unsafe and He’s the untame lion whose claws tear into the scales of my thick sins and the ripping away of everything filthy dragon can feel like a burning right through to the heart. I need His perfectly dangerous ways.
Real love is never safe.
Because grace is a dangerous thing and too often those who speak the most about grace are the most graceless of all.
I am just beginning to learn it and see it painfully in me: The modern-day Pharisees focus on avoiding sin and not on ardently loving our Savior.
What all us Pharisees need to experience is this: Ardent love for your Savior is the most direct path of sin avoidance.
What all us Pharisees need to experience is the mystery of the whole of holy Scripture and real crazy love.
“The holy wild is always pervaded with mystery,” writes Mark Buchanan.
Maybe faith isn’t as much formula as the mystery of being drawn to, surrendering to, the overwhelming love and will of the most dangerous Reality in all the universe?
– Ann Voskamp
read full blog at http://www.aholy experience.com
On this day of your life I believe God wants you to know…
…that safety is not the thing you should look for in the
future. Joy is what you should look for.
Security and joy may not come in the same package.
They can…but they also cannot.
There is no guarantee.
If your primary concern is a guarantee of security,
you may never experience the truest joys of life.
This is not a suggestion that you become reckless,
but it is an invitation to at least become daring.
Neale Donald Walsh
http://www.nealedonaldwalsch.com
life: acoustic & amplified 