Heart.

You’ve suffered.

Corruption, discrimination, abandonment, offense… through words, images, actions.

How have you survived for so long?

You’ve tried.

I see a fire of fury in you, and a surfeit of spite.

You can’t go on like this.

Heart, you must find your purpose again. Awake! Come back to life. Be drained of your jealousy & rage.

I choose…again…for the 128,000th time… to trust in Perfect Love, to let it heal me, wash me, give me new perspective, and keep me safe. I choose…all over again…to believe that corruption, discrimination, abandonment, and abuse are not acts of my Father, and I choose to not participate with them or their companions – fear, fury, bitterness, pessimism.

No one said it would be easy. But, Heart, you have to make a choice: Rot and die in this bitter cold, or just start running.

Come now, Heart. Let’s run.

1998.

We knew each other. Not like now.

We fought for worlds beyond our reach. We knew what lay ahead, and we were hopeful. Never before had there been a company of people quite like us, a ragtag group of all sorts…full of fire.

Fire was what marked us. It was in our songs, in our decisions, in our actions, our arguments. We knew nothing else but intensity. There was no such thing as cynicism back then. It was all or nothing, and nothing never entered our minds.

Our entire lives lay ahead of us. And everyone believed in us. We had crazy ideas, and they said yes. We were young, wild, and carefree. We had a home.

“What if everyone could belong?” we pondered. It was an idea that always fell right smack dab in the center of every conversation and every plan.

And we actually believed we could change the world.

Creativity came easy. Time was no sacrifice. We were bold. We were safe. Moments of wild dancing in the night would turn to spaces of breathtaking intimacy we were not prepared for. We heard angels. We sang with abandon in our secret language. These songs have marked me forever.

I do remember pain. Years later that pain seems diminished when compared to the wonders. Selective memory.

It was the perfect time to be alive.

I am tired of the way things look and the way they sound and I am tired of my own voice echoing in my head as I stumble upon rut after rut in culture.

Days long past are the common goal of so many.  They cling to yesterday like it’s a prize they won, a once in a lifetime reward to be admired and attained by all generations to come.  They live there on the shelf with their prize from the 1990’s.

Only it’s 2015.

Yesterday is already old.

Don’t stay behind.

The sounds, the thoughts, the space in which to roam; we press on to explore them.  Divergent thinking is a wind that will carry us to promising places.

Everything we thought was great about the good old days was great and amazing… for the good old days.  Please don’t stay there in those days.  We have more good days to come.

When you talk about the past and all its glory, as if it’s some heroic giant, we get stuck in its shadow.

But our dreams are too big for the shadows.

Divergent thinking conflicts with yesterday’s standards.

Our present and our future, they call to us with their possibilities.

We can not sit here and try to revive all of our precious moments.  We must loose ourselves from their grip.  We simply can not afford to miss out on exploring what we do not yet know.

Oh cheap expectations, why do you plague humanity?

Oh humanity, why are you infatuated with form and substance and things you can see and fully figure out?

There is depth beyond what we see, hear, feel, touch, and there is wave after wave after wave of unveiling.

“I wonder…”.  My happy place.

Die to the satisfaction of having the Great King all figured out and wrapped up in a tidy box.  Roam free in the mystery.

Oh, how boring are the boxes of those who’ve been pierced by the sword of safety.

Our days on earth are but a shadow.  Job 8:9.  A shadow, a hint, a profile, a glimmer of what is beyond.  These days may be inferior to those days ahead… but if they are any reflection at all of what lies beyond, if there is any connection at all, then there must be some fun to be had here in exploring that which stretches our understanding.

Comfort zones.  Glass walls, separating us from the more.  We can feel in our gut there is more on the other side, we can see with our spirit man what lies past.

We shatter the glass with our “Yes.”

And then, just like that, it’s over.

A world of intellectual stimulation, discovery, free thinking, stretching, a world that gave me a sense of direction & purpose, was here for seven months and then… just gone.

Who was I before this, and who am I now?

What exactly was this all about, and could I do it all again?  Or, rather, should I do it again.  Is it mine to embrace and explore.  Is it a destiny to fulfill.

I don’t know.

Seems like I have more options now.

And more insecurities?  Maybe.

But I have come so far.

Still, the idea in my head, the me that I see, has yet to be fully realized.  I’m still scared.  And still unsure of myself.  Yet not as much as before, that’s for sure.  And that’s incredible.

So what’s going on here?  What is this, what has this been about… and what am I to do with all my likes and dislikes now?

I still want you more than ever, God.

Real life, mystical, felt touches and encounters with you.  My heart craves your words.

“Talk to me.

Cause I know You lots of ways.  Sometimes when the wind blows a certain strength and decibel, I could swear it’s Your breath… like You’re actually taking the time to really touch us here… Your breath (the wind) on our skin, Your voice (the wind) in our spirits.

And sometimes You have sent messages to me so unexpected that You had to keep sending them over and over for me to actually get it.  Like the dragonfly that wouldn’t leave me alone.  The flowers that wouldn’t stop growing.  The movies and TV shows with story lines that were more prophetic in nature than any futurist could ever discern about me.

You always talk to me.  At times it’s in ways I don’t think anyone else would ever understand.  And I like it that way.  I like our language.  I like how You get me.  I like Your nearness, I like how You reach for me, and I like how You keep communication interesting.

I wish everyone knew You like that.”

Their feelings were musical.  Their emotions were a beautiful design.  They did not know it.  So they rarely sang.  They rarely felt.  They just toiled.  But when they sang, we listened, and this is what we heard…

“Up in the morning with the sun,

Driven by the earth to find our place,

The promise of fulfillment

Is preceded by pain.

We prove our strength by how we strive,

Our axes bring us safety

We work hard because we’re told

There’s no way to fulfillment

But by being number one.”

Stand outside, study the trees, and you will learn the same lesson as me…

Structure is beneficial.

I’ve been studying the trees lately.  Their structure gives shelter, a home, a place to nest, safety, and provision.

This is what good structure does.  It gives a platform to take off and fly, and a place to come home and nest.

It’s not loud and obnoxious.  It just gives space and protection.  I like that.  I admire trees.

“Hacking away at the undergrowth of a massive forest had taken its toll on her.  Yes, she was strong.  She could carry the axe, and she could wield it fiercely.  But strength is not only in the toiling, it is also in the resting.

The strongest warriors are the ones who realize that a temporary ceasing of activity infuses more strength into the soul than the addition of ten new pieces of artillery.

So she showed her strength by how she rested…”