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News: My thoughts are clouds I cannot fathom into pastries.

--1 June 2018--

Quote: Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest of hearts. --Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The Fellowship

October 11, 2018

18.10.11 - Two Wanderers {A Poem}

My church is studying the book of Ephesians right now. So, having been inspired by chapter 2 as well as current circumstances in my life, I wrote a poem and wanted to share it with you :)
But now in Christ Jesus you who formerly were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He Himself is our peace, who made both groups into one and broke down the barrier of the dividing wall, by abolishing in His flesh the enmity, which is the Law of commandments contained in ordinances, so that in Himself He might make the two into one new man, thus establishing peace, and might reconcile them both in one body to God through the cross, by it having put to death the enmity. And He came and preached peace to you who were far away, and peace to those who were near; for through Him we both have our access in one Spirit to the Father. -- Ephesians 2:13-18 NASB 
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Wanderer in a desert place, dry and bleached bones -
Pinterest
Watch the twist of lip and bend of brow.
Drooping lids and stilted breaths. Searching. 
Dusted clothes, cracked and crooked 
Broken things make homes here. 
A cavernous ache makes a path, heavily trodden
Beneath the breastbone of this skeleton. 
Patterns of sorrow swirl silently, singing a song
A softened song of pain and pestilence. 
This was my lot in life, my unlucky landing, 
To a livelihood of longing and lingering
Just at the footstool of a place I thought
Would send me a little light, a little water,
A little grace. Yet lacking, I've lately come to see
That my lungs cannot hold the meager supply
And I am left wishing and hoping for more. 
And chains bind me to a path I cannot endure.

It is during these times of lingering and lacking
That wanderers find the softest breeze,
The silent, still breeze - a paradox of warring peace -
A strong peace. A furious peace. An explosive peace. 
Once tasted, nothing quenches the burning thirst
Except a drought of violent peace. 
A peace that silences the decay and death
And fills the empty, dry places with something cool
Something sweet and something softly akin to fullness. 

I tasted this peace and, ragged and wrongful, 
My staggering steps drew me from my knees -
Wounded and bleeding, disease-riddled sinner,
I followed the call of the still breeze. 
And there, in the epicenter of chaos and death, 
I found a well - deeply dug with damp dirt walls. 
And a wanderer, more darkly dirtied than I, 
Sat propped against the side, bucket in hand, smile cracking face.
And nearer I drew, led by the breeze, to the foot of the well. 

"Daughter, drink," spoke the wanderer,
Voice ragged and tired, body built from blood and bleedings. 
A cup he held and extended, filled with cool water
Water from the well - water I craved - water I would kill for. 
But I hesitated; this must be a mirage, surely?
I could not comprehend, having spent ages searching
To now find, so conveniently placed, a wanted well of water.
But his eyes, kindly and soft, spoke to my soul
And so I reached, with worn hand and tired limb,
Taking cup to raise to lips. I drank. 

The water was sweet, filling, and delicious. 
And as I drank, the world melted as wax before my eyes
The bronzed, dusty hues I had walked in for ages
Crumbled like dirt from a glass, and before me
I watched life bleed into the scene. 
A full spectrum of colour fleshed out and bloomed
Filling trees and grass and dust 
In greens and blues and reds.
It was as if the earth took a breath and exhaled hell,
And everything calloused fell away into beauty. 
My eyes found the wanderer, still resting by the well -
He was glorious. He was Glory itself. 
And he emanated Love and Life and Peace -
A magnetizing essence that spoke to my soul. 
His face was filled with kindness and his eyes with purpose.

"My daughter," he spoke - his voice like thunder now
And I felt my knees shake, but I stood firm and listened with opened ears.
"You have been reconciled. Hostility is dead in your bones,
I have cleansed it out and infused you with peace.
You were far, but I have brought you near. 
You were a stranger, now I call you friend.
What was heathen has now been reframed
And is holy - your body, bruised and broken
I have refreshed. You are new. You are remade.
This beauty, born into a dry and weary place,
Is seen with new eyes that are not your own
But rather, are Other. You were truly blind
But now, now my child, you will truly see." 

Then with no hesitation, the wanderer raised himself
And his garb, no longer moth-eaten and dust-crusted,
Glowed with the glow of a thousand diamonds, 
Setting fire to the grass with a collision of reflected rainbows.
And he lifted his arms, beckoning me closer -
So I stepped, one step at a time,
And with the closing distance, every dirty thing about me
Fell by the wayside, until I too gleamed healthy,
Unbruised, unscarred, unbeaten. 
At last I reached his outstretched arms 
And he pulled me close to his solid chest
And I felt the battle clothes beneath his glorious robe. 

"I have loved you with an everlasting love,"
He spoke. The truth spilled into my soul; salvation itself. 
"I have never left your side." 
My heart beat. Steady. Strong. 
"My water is life - you will never thirst again." 
And the last of the chains fell from aching ankles
Crystal tears dripped down my cheeks -
And gratitude and love and hope flooded me.
"I have called you - freedom I have given you
You are never alone. Hold fast to truth
And my light will always guide you home." 
And in that moment I knew, as I have always known,
That I would lay down my very life
For a love so pure and patient -
And at last, I have found my purpose, my peace, my only hope -
In the warm and welcoming face of a wanderer
Called Jesus. 


-----

Signed with a peace that surpasses the understanding of this world,
Squeaks.

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