point of view

I just wanted to share this because I think it's so beautiful... It may be familiar but it is so full of hope, it is worth sharing anyway. It is written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow during the war, shortly after his second wife died suddenly as a result of injuries after her dress caught on fire. I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words repeat Of peace on earth, good will to men. I thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along the unbroken song Of peace on earth, good will to men. And in despair I bowed my head: "There is no peace on earth," I said, "For hate is strong and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to men." Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: "God is not dead, nor doth he sleep; The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, With peace on earth, good will to men." Till, ringing singing, on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voi...

If a plant is destroyed but the roots remain there is yet hope of life hope of renewal long is our winter 'i alone am left and they seek my life it is over' "I have preserved the Root and 7,000 unbowed faithfully looking" Israel is dry ground troubled at the prophecies who has believed our report? a Root out of dry ground God is faithful He is the source all along "What do you think about the Christ?" No answer. God and man 100% plus 100% equals incarnation born to die. Stumbling block fulfillment purpose and glory culmination the Consolation of Israel. This is your Savior!! The Bright and Morning Star. Look, you watchmen! It is still dark sing on all the same you see the promise day shines in your heart sure hope, unshakable trust The Morning Star has come day is coming. it is coming!

sleepy white butterflies drifting to rest snowflakes are like peace blanket me with your protection soak into my heart, beautiful mystery

in the craziness of malls at 10 last-minute shopping and a dozen different recordings of the same song played within an inch of it's life when there are obese white-haired men in red suits everywhere Don't forget when the red and green appear everywhere it's only because of the blood that there is any life when you hear "peace on earth, goodwill to men" don't forget that peace is only found in one place and goodwill is not money When you're driving through snow squalls for the last gift Remember, you've been given redemption Worth more than all the money North America spent this December Which means we are the only ones who can sing about joy and know what we're talking about And when you're surrounded by light and warmth don't forget, the light of the world stepped down into your darkness so you could understand what it all means.

shadows on the wall she doesn't understand Mommy and Daddy don't know she hears but she snuggles down to sleep sound because the shadows meld into one The yelling woke her up she shivers scared wide awake trembly fingers in her ears to block out Mommy's crying still as a mouse in her little nest watching the space between the shadows It is quiet the bed is empty because the shadows on the wall have met again and a new little shadow comes pattering to see what's in the Book that joins them.

Peace be still, my soul Why are you restless and disquieted? What's all this murmuring in my heart? Be quiet! Hush! I don't want to hear it. Shut, up. Who do you think you are anyway? You're annoying, that's what. You're too loud and complaining, I can't hear anything. I'm trying to listen to Salvation to angel songs to the heartbeat of the cross. And here you're doing all this whining. And the pity parties, they've got to stop. They're keeping me up all hours of the night. How do you even manage to make so much noise with only three guests? I've had it with this attitude. Not another peep out of you. Got it?

Victory is in the air it fills my lungs like the clear evening after a snowfall angel smiles resound their echo in my heart as I stand on the Rock with the shattered chains in my hand the song of the sunrise ringing in my ears The battle is long and weary but the war has already been won

the initial wound gapes numb unbleeding after the shock anguish pouring pain before too long faintness clots hope after a while scabbed triggers healing in time scar numb again breathe

Some say love is butterflies. Love is sparks. Love is falling, falling off a cliff into oceans of happiness or meaning or something indescribable. Love is finding the one you can't live without. But I saw Love, and it's a lot bigger than that. Love is giving up. Love is letting go. Sometimes love is allowing someone to let you go. Love is time. Sometimes love is money. Love is almost always inconvenient. Love can be letting someone in when you don't want to. Love can be persistently knocking when they won't let you in. Love is space what you don't want it and no space when you do want it. Love is almost always hard. Love hurts. Love sacrifices. Love does things it despises while knowing that, probably, no one will ever know you did it (or hated doing it) except God. Love bears burdens. Love weeps with those who weep and rejoices with those who rejoice. Love is 1 Corinthians 13. Love hung from a tree by nails through His palms and suffocated through multiple eter...

In a world where churches get locked and the lights never go off where we spend years of our life weighing our many options where "entertainment" is a culture in itself when people sell the gospel as comfort-food and ministry is about the wisdom of men's brain Jesus still says "be still and know that I am God I will be exalted" whether you try to help Me or not and listening at His feet is still the good part which will not be taken away He still says "seek MY wisdom" and He still tells us to obey and still doesn't tell us what will happen if we do. Life is not quite as complicated as we think.

Do you have a moment, sir; could you tell me a story? I can see at least one held captive in your eye If you have a moment, ma'am, I'd like to hear a little of the storms that traced the lines where my cheek is still smooth Tell me, sir, of a day that one white hair stands for and most of all I want to know what kept that twinkle in your eye Please tell me, ma'am, how you're still smiling though you've known pain and heartbreak so much longer than I have Was it easier to let go the tenth time? Do you ever get used to being lonely? When I've seen as much as you, I want to rejoice as well as you do. Will you teach me how to grow old?

from my sermon notes, on Luke 10 open our eyes to the need of our neighbor reach out our hands to span the distance unplug our ears to the call of compassion teach us the dance of the beautiful feet make our hearts bigger and break them for sin strengthen our shoulders to carry others' burdens breathe into our lungs the breath of life to sing the song of love Lord teach us how to love

Child with the downcast eyes what's all this sighing for? Don't get so caught up in the battle that you forget we've won the war! You know these are principalities the powers of darkness and sin They're huge and they're scary but don't you forget who's the King! What silly little children who stand shaking their heads at the mountain they won't touch the shovel just sigh and shrug "that's that, then" Do you know that's the sun that you're holding, there in the palm of your hand? Why you haven't melted away long ago that's what I don't understand.

We are a broken people. But we do everything in our power to forget it. We are dead men walking. So we redefine life. We are drowning in pain. We pretend there's no such thing. We are hollow empty shells. We paste yellow smileys over our soul-screams and tell each other we're loving it. The soft, piercing notes of hope break into the clouds of death We put our fingers into our ears and sing loud "la-la-la"s to block it out. We are an incredibly stupid bunch. Thank God, There is a Redeemer! He pursues He hunts us down He shatters the bars of death He wakes us and breathes sunshine into our rotted lungs We are alive for the first time Captured and rebirthed by Healing We open our blind eyes We live, and our heart begins to beat out the song it was created to sing.

Well that was the occasion at least, it applies to all of us probably. Not the greatest but I wanted to post something anyway =) Father, Free us from the dungeon of thinking we know it all our proud swelled heads are top heavy so we fall Please stop us from finding false strength deep inside May Your wings over us be the strength that we find Please let us see the emptiness that's in us Show us our blindness Lord we are only dust Show us our need make us soft, make us seek Our appetite for You is abominably weak Teach us to listen open our blind eyes Make us parched with the thirst that is fully satisfied. Amen.

So I was sitting in church the other week listening to an excellent sermon about the Thessalonians and the Church. As I listened I got more and more excited. I was thinking ‘wow, if we get a hold of this, this will change us forever.’ I glanced around to see if anyone else seemed to be getting this too. Maybe people were getting it but I will never know because there were four men sitting there with their eyes closed. Maybe they were meditating deeply. Ha, ha. Maybe they had a really late night or something. I don’t know. (Though I do know that the pastor had about two or three hours of sleep that night). The effect this sermon had on me was, I think, rather different than what the pastor had in mind originally. Do you identify with me? Have you had this happen? Do you know how totally discouraging it is to catch a glimpse of a vision of what our churches could be and then be rudely reminded that a lot of the key people in this could care less? If you know who these guys ...

I was tutoring Josh (creative writing) today, when I came across an exercise in one of my notebooks from when I was in South Dakota. I used to tutor a couple girls in the school there, and one of the things I do is come up with random little exercises to warm up before we work on writing. One day I asked one of the girls to define a few different terms in her own words. Here are two of them: Happiness - when you do something good instead of bad. Pain - something that always stays with you and never goes away. I wonder what my brother Josh's definitions would be.  The girl from South Dakota lives in a place that's full of poverty, darkness, oppression and hopelessness. Josh is a year or two older (this girl was in grade seven, Josh is now in grade nine) and he's growing up in a home that is filled with peace, hope and joy. But my friend from the Rez hit the nail very close to the head. I hope one day I will be with her in the only place where pain will finally go ...

I do not mean for this to sound like I believe myself to be experienced, wise, dramatic, or to have anything figured out. I do not and am not (except perhaps the dramatic part, at least sometimes). I do feel the small things I have been through deeply, and I wrote this in sincerity I think. My eyes are bloodshot with tears I have looked and seen sin. My feet are caked with dirt and blood from the places I have walked. My arms are heavy from reaching unsuccessfully so far. My head aches with the echoes of the voices in my dreams. My shoulder scars are a little numb where the claws of sin went in. My hands are shaky from holding on My heart, well it's still bleeding I don't know how long it takes for letting go to heal. But I just got a much-needed reminder: One day I will see my Savior face to face every tear will be wiped away. Rev. 21:4 My Savior's in the foot-washing business. John 13:5 Underneath me are everlasting arms. Deut. 33:27 Some day His songs will forever ring...

Night with no moon will you sing me some praises tell me Who sees through the blindness of night speak soft the deafening words of His promise the Dayspring, the Sun, the giver of Light Night with no moon oh sing to me sweetly we need Gilead's balm for our bruised bloody souls open our ears Lord and teach us to listen Trust may remind frozen tears how to flow. Night with no moon I am here, I am listening here in the stillness I'm desperate for hope Tell me the story we both know so clearly I won't drop the lamp we need for this dark road Night with no moon please rebuke me and scold me I know day will come yet I gave up the fight Night with no moon, just once more sing it softly and lull me to sleep with my sword at my side.

I'm going to post a link to this too, it's on facebook but I want to archive it with my other writing. It's also something I like to be reminded of. Facebook Note - Inspired by the line "run over by God" - an allegory of sorts

Yesterday I got rear-ended. I could be melodramatic and say it was a scary experience (it kind of was) or brush it off and say that it was no big deal (which is also kind of true). In actuality the experience left me with a lot to think about. I was on my way from a Bible conference on evangelism to a Christian Muslim Forum with my brother Mark and some friends. I was driving my Dad's car, Alyssa B was driving a vanload, and Aaron L was also driving a small car. We were on the Q-- (highway) and traffic slowed quickly, I had to slam on the brakes to keep from hitting the guy in front of me. Rick said/yelled something about the shoulder, but by the time I processed that I only had time to clue in THE CAR BEHIND ME! and glance in the rear-view mirror to see Alyssa's van, know what was about to happen, too late to do anything about it. You know those moments where time seems to slow. When I look back on it, I am a little amazed, and a little confused at what was running throu...

blustery rainstorms sticky mud turned lush green overnight we have been reborn promise, promise, promise buds and shoots from death I remember new life is a miracle. the air is heavy with sunshine we are thirsty buds became blossoms blossoms wither the earth swells with fruitfulness I remember there is joy in the harvest. there's a chill in the air nipping my nose and lungs blood on the leaves as they fall in their wind-whipped dance I remember sometimes death is beautiful. in the stillness of the ice blindingly blanketed life is hidden earth stands still I remember we are waiting image from http://mariusp.deviantart.com/art/Four-Seasons-35993741

Sometimes I know how to hate. Sometimes I wish I was an archer with the arrows of light. Sometimes I see a little bit of Satan's true colors, that's when it happens. Sometimes I see it when the sin in me has deeply wounded someone I love dearly then I hate . Sometimes I see it when evil men rob someone I love of what little pretense of hope she had left. Then I hate . When I cry tears of rage for the "babies underneath their beds" When I long to take the place of someone who has no hope to go through her pain and loss and trauma for her because my Hope & Comfort would get me through, in the end she has nothing That is when I hate . When I cry "what fools we were to choose this path!" thorns and thistles death and heartache. That is when I truly begin to understand what an illogical glorious breath-taking thing the Cross is. And my heart gives a great leap ...

"Today I met a traveler and something something was different about him. You see this burden on my back You've got one I've got one all our friends have one He didn't. He was carrying a cross instead. I'm not sure which looks easier but it was different. I asked him Who are you? and why are you carrying that? and how come you don't have a burden like me? He looked at me and there was light in his eyes. He said Friend, I used to have a burden but now I'm on the Way of the Ransomed some call it the Way of the Free the Narrow Path My burden rolled off as soon as I began my journey. I said Your cross looks heavy. He said It is but I have been given strength to match it's weight. When I watched him go his feet hardly touched the ground. I'm not sure but I think I might like to exchange my burden for a cross to walk that Way if I could have that light in my eyes. He told me to go to the cross He said that burdens are loosed there and slaves go free. Will ...

my arms feel awfully empty am I not needed anywhere? the wiggly bodies the eager arms the sweaty little hands that used to fill my heart and prayers they're gone there's a hollow ache in my chest are there others to love? show me other souls to embrace right now I feel awfully empty I'm glad Your arms are around and under me

Jaymie was only six years old last February. But she thought about being grown up a lot. When she watched Grandma, she thought being grown up was lots of aching and forgetting what happened last night. When she hugged Mama she thought being grown up was being trembly and staring blankly into nowhere in particular. When she listened to Auntie, who wasn’t even all the way grown up yet, she thought it was when your voice gets hard. When Roger came and she squeezed behind the stained brown sofa so that he wouldn’t notice her she thought being grown up was having greasy hands and slurry words. And when there were too many grownups and there was loud hollow laughter and shouting and crashes, she pulled her closet door tightly shut, and crawled back, back, back until her stiff little back pressed against the back wall. Then she shivered in the dark and tried not to listen. Times like that she didn’t ever want to grow up. Times like that she squeezed her eyes shut and th...

Little faces everywhere dimpled cheeks and elbows sparkling eyes joyfully uncoordinated limbs wispy curls "Daddy, come!" giggles earnest explanations of new adventures excited shrieks "Look Mommy! Look Mommy!" none of them mine to hold to teach to love to care for I am young, I know still I cannot help but watch I feel very sharply the beauty the right-ness of it I yearn for it but it is not mine. My thoughts turn to other little faces some with hollow cheeks and bony arms all with eyes too old for their faces they do not trust they long to love "child" in name only oh, to restore what they have never known! Maybe one of these is mine

created for Him made beautiful by Him the heart of a home strength and honor clothe her love, kindness and wisdom flow gently from her lips the ageless beauty of a quiet spirit she is not naive yet she is not afraid of any terror she shall rejoice in time to come see, her trust-roots are deep in the Rock in the Living Water She knows she is in His hands His strength is made perfect in her weakness she is confident in her Redeemer she loves sacrificially she does not tear down she is a supporter and strengthener she knows Whose she is He calls her precious Proverbs 31, Psalm 1, John 4, 1 Peter 3

...For tea, for peace, for candy, for numbing waves, for hope for belly laughs and late night confessions for mingled tears and for wildflowers for fairy tales and childhood memories for shared victories and shared losses for giddy moments and earnests longing for holiness for aged wisdom and childish affection for iridescent bubbles. Doubly united in blood once by Dutch "Luimes" blood once by the blood of the Lamb Thank You for ten minute hugs for ridiculous disses and totally sweet compliments for a home filled with prayer. For dishes and volleyball and the grace of God. Thank You, God, for my family. It is a promise of things to come.

Service thankfully laying down gratefulness in action what happens when joy is alive the fruit of the Spirit to live to glorify Him Freedom knowing the Truth peace inside of a butterfly living His power bound to righteousness slaves of joy Joy dancing alone in a thundershower between the doorposts of the rainbow one step further

I know that my Redeemer lives even when I don't understand the way He is working. I know that my Redeemer lives even if I don't know what to do with the path He gives me to walk. I know that my Redeemer lives even when I don't know why I live. I know that my Redeemer lives even when I don't know why He loves me.

The stars speak comfort to me cut me down to size a little say "who are you? What are your problems? Look behold the Creator was, is, is to come He never sleeps He never faints never blinks or ignores There is so much more to this story than you yet He calls you precious."

To lay aside weights To find no satisfaction in anything except for Christ To run with eyes fixed unblinkingly on the Goal To boast only in the cross To rejoice with inexpressible joy when everything is torn away All to Jesus, I surrender all

to be as the scum of the earth so that others may know what it is to be clean? Are you willing to be wounded so that others may know healing? That is what it is to follow Christ's example! “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me." Matthew 16:24

sweat blood I have not felt the fires of hell I never will Because He has for me I love Him

Quench my thirst so I'll know what it is to want fill me up so I'll know what it is to have an appetite You make me hungry I thirst for You I'm satisfied in knowing the best is yet to come.

I will follow wherever You lead whether or not it's practical whatever others think of it no matter how scary or hard or sad. Your plan is what I want, not mine. Please remind me of that! I am Yours. Amen

big hands small hands puffy hands gnarled hands thin hands bony hands soft hands sweaty hands chilly hands shaky hands gentle hands warm hands

In the luminescence of the pale blue snow breath fogs my vision and crunchy footsteps break the stillness inhabited only by star-voices if you aren’t listening for their chorus you’ll miss it altogether