Yes, Father, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what you’ll allow. I’m afraid the cost of your goodness to me will hurt. I have a past filled with such hurt and I point to that and say, “See, there is such pain in your discipline. Deep is the suffering that brings me to your throne room.” I know that you are good and that your plans for me a not for my harm. Yet I have been harmed. I have a life that proves that you allow the sting of sin. I wish for nothing deeper than to see you face to face. I wish for no greater thing than to be perfected by you. Yet I don’t know what the cost will be to bring such things to an end. In our culture we throw words around like “Die to self” or “living sacrifices”, but have no concept of price of doing such things. Families are torn apart, business run into the ground, and lives are lost. Death comes in the most horrific forms. Sometimes death comes slowly, as you watch the one you love succumb to that disease that ravages their body. It comes when least expected, when...

“You are…”  I paused at this because my mouth always moved so much faster than my thoughts.  I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t find the words to suffice.  Each time you came into my eyes I would become tongue tied.  It was as if eloquence was lost.  It was as if two different people were in control of my mind.  The writer also did most of the speaking.  He saw you and began a mad scramble to compliment you while mumbling possible ideas, but the other, the ones who’s heart was tied with mine, he was so stunned that he could barely breathe.  He quickly grabbed the writer, pointed his head towards you and said, “Shut up and look.”  To this, both were left gaping at the beauty and loveliness while trying to absorb all of you that they could.   Here-in was the problem.  See, the writer stopped writing.  He stopped his normally uninterrupted production of quips, satire, profundity, and otherwise inspiring and encouraging words so that he could stare.    All you got was, “You are…” followed by a dumbfounded look of complete adoration and captivation.   Your spirit is vibrant and bright and you bring joy...

She was more beautiful than my memories could sustain. With each passing day, those images had faded making it slightly more bearable to go on without her. It was still new, yet that age old adage that time will heal all wound is, in the end, a somber truth. Even if the wound never completely heals, time helps you forget.   There hadn’t been enough time. Lying alone in the darkness, with sheets tormenting my skin and my mind assaulting my spirit with memory after memory, I could do little but stare into the hollow black. Some nights I would stumble into the living room and sit alone on the couch. A random TV show would be my solitary companion with the solemn duty of filling my mind with other things in an attempt to force out the memories. Distraction was the only method by which I could successfully function enough to continue living. For if I couldn’t contain my emotions, I wouldn’t sleep. Without sleep, I couldn’t wake to continue earning a living . I often convinced myself out of necessity that this pain I could deal with another day at another time. But that night was different. I...

For all its vast plains, majestic mountain ranges, open valleys, winding rivers, and mighty oceans, the earth is a fragile oasis suspended in the blackness within a hostile expanse which it, by its very nature, is incompatible. With opened eyes and new discoveries, it becomes ever clearer that the world humanity has inhabited for eons is a stark enigma to an otherwise sterile universe. Look to the stars, not for your hope and not for your salvation. Do not gaze upon other worlds with the ambition and intent for them to be your future. Instead, when you see dimly through the lenses of our time, or tread softly on the surfaces of those other barren rocks, seek truth. Expect revelation. Listen to voices that echo across the heavens. Hear what they declare. For the stars are not silent and the cosmos is not...

A letter, written in scarlet, bears the names of the fallen, And is nailed upon that cross where you erased history That the very breath of God could once again flow through men. Darkness was overcome and death was silenced. You look back at us and call us your own, Perfect, beloved, beautiful and cherished bride. From death to life and from darkness to light, You call us innocent. You call us perfect. In our earthly flesh, we look to the heavens And see the majesty and the wonder of all that you designed, And in your shadow beneath your created expanse, We cannot fathom the love which compelled you. “Who am I” David said, “that you would be mindful of me” Yet, upon that cross, with thunder shaking the ground, through the torn veil and shatter stones split by the movement of the earth, and beyond the darkness which covered the heavens and blackened the sky, You wrote these words in red, “I AM the Infinite, I AM the son, the master of the dust, the breath of life, I AM the king above all kings, author of heaven and earth, I AM the Immortal, the shaper of all that...

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned against you.  Forgive the evil within my heart that twists and turns until it distorts the truth that you revealed.  Forgive the choices I have made to lead my here, to walk outside your will, and to mark my life with scars.   Rise my child, be strengthened in me, for the journey is too great for you.   Father, this is evil.  I walk alone down those hallways and I carry out the very things you hate.  How can I find relief, how can I see peace, how can I know forgiveness when this is against the very character of the All Mighty?  How can I rest when such injustice against your perfect design is called “right” and “good”?   Where is righteousness in the midst of such perversion?   My son, all is well.   I do not hide the bitterness from you.  You see the shame, the fear, and the doubt as open pages illuminated by only by your goodness.  “Six years”, they shake their heads, “It’s been so long.”  Does it really come to an end like this?  “You must be relieved.” Five months more to those years make...

If you want to get lost, follow me. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know whom I follow. Walk along side me and soon you’ll discover I haven’t a clue where I’m going or how long it will be until we’ll get there. It’s worth every step on this twisted path because of who directs each and every foot fall. I long to hold your hand and walk together for a little while because you’re just as lost as I and I wouldn’t want any other way   When I feel like I’ve got it figured out And trust myself to be our guide I soon discover I’m really just wandering blindly with my hands covering my eyes.   We may never see the forest from the trees Or even beyond the rocks just ahead, but look how far we’ve come after all this time of not knowing anything at all. I know you and I will be okay! We’ve made it this far and tomorrow’s More of the same not knowing where we are or where we’re going.   It doesn’t matter anyway, right? Because after all this time we’re still okay. As long you’re as lost...

“Was that an original composition?” I had finished reading a prayer for the group when that question was floated my way.  I confirmed that it was and we moved on.  The rest of the night went on without another thought to the question.   Early the next day, as my mind began it’s high pace morning routine, that question returned.  The night before I was a little bewildered when I answered the question, but I didn’t put any thought into why.  Now, though, my mind raced over it again.  I wouldn’t pray with any words that weren’t my own.  It didn’t make sense to me to do such a thing, but it made sense, I figured, that someone would ask.  Then a powerful thought interrupted mine.   The night before, one of the others had made a small comment:  all talents, abilities, skills, successes, and other good things are all gifts from God.  They originate from God.  How could we be proud of something we were given and did not earn nor deserve?  We can’t even be proud of the little things, for we are images of God and the good in us is just a reflection of him.  It...

You’re love, inescapable, casts mercy on me. You’re goodness, incorruptible, has rescued me. You’re might, unfathomable, protects and hides me Within your perfect and unquenchable grace. Make straight my walk and guide me within your will For you are the master, creator, keeper and shaper of all that was, is, and every will be. For you are “I...

If I could break the chains and cables that bind me,But I lack the strength and ambition nor am I able.I see red coming down from heaven on high and I realize,My name’s been replaced there with yours, Immortal.   Deep like the depths of the bottoms pits of the oceanUnder the heavens outstretching beyond the great infinite Expanding and moving and on into nothingnessYour love and compassion and mercy and grace are, Immortal.   For nothing can stand in the wake of your justiceShaking the earth and the stars in the sky ‘till they fell from their shelters and tore through airTo carry the message that the death was paid for, Immortal.   Ruby red stains my hands and my face and my feetAs I walk to the throne room and fall to my kneesIn sorrowful brokenness overwhelmed by relieffrom the mightiest master of all that ever will be, Immortal.   You took me from rags and filthy attire, blood stainedAnd tattered from years fighting alone in the darknessDetermined to kill any remnant of you and declareMyself king of the emptiness left by hatred and pride, Immortal.   You clothed me in robes of the cleanest white satinWoven...

The thunder rippled through the sky as clouds wrapped the hill in darkness. The winds twisted the garments of the men that watched and licked the blood of the men that hung from the splintered wood only paces away. The earth shook under the weight of darkness and all creation cried out. Fear overwhelmed the on lookers. It was the day humanity died. They had heard that in the beginning, on the first morning, when the sun rose, it was declared, “It is good.” All creation was just so. Then humanity defied the almighty and declared independence with the words, “I will be like the most high”. They brought havoc and wreck upon all that was good. They destroyed paradise and welcomed rebellion and death upon the world. For eons their maker pursued the wayward race. Yet they rejected the pursuit and made their bed with chaos. For such defiance, for causing the death of countless souls, for the decay they wrought upon all of the universe, humanity, it was decreed, must face justice. For if they were not stopped, all of creation would crumble beneath their destructive wake. Humanity must die. Yet, the maker had made humanity unique....

With what courage you looked upon that cross.With what courage you defied your humanity and declared, “Not my will, but Yours.”With what courage you walked obediently to death and did not waver.And by your courage death is conquered that we may live.   Upon that cross humanity died and justice was complete.Upon that cross grace was poured out and mercy given.Upon that cross, in agony, you cried that we be forgiven with the words, “It is finished.”Your tears, your sweat, your blood stains still our souls and counts us yours.   With what courage you have granted us, underserved,That we may be one and in unity with you, your spirit, and the almighty God.Upon that cross, you took your name and engraved on us, “Courageous”That we, your sons and daughters, may follow steadfast to the cross   Seek us and expose our weaknesses that we may ever cling to youAnd in the moments our bodies fail and our sorrows overwhelm us,In the darkness when we plead, “Take this cup from me!”May your grace and mercy cry within us evermore, “Not my will, Father. Not my will, Father…”   “…But...

‘Till the morning sun strikes the treesFarthest from its reaching gazeI’ll wait upon you at your feetWith silent listening before the day,For when you speak and tell me whereTo place my hand and turn my plowI will obey my king and masterWith haste within the what you allow.What grace you have wrought on meThat I, amidst all of your domain,Walk, written on my soul, in chorusWith all creation calling out, your glorious and mighty...

I looked down at those words, “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness…” It may be years to me, but God is not late. Waiting is a joy when considered next to what I am waiting for. I am waiting on my King to fulfill a promise. It doesn’t matter if it takes a lifetime.  The reward will be worth all of the waiting a thousand times over.   “…instead he is patient with you…”   It was in that moment that it dawned on me. It is his patience that I wait upon. For he is giving someone time and he is giving them grace. Each delay is another chance for them to return to him. The next sentence reads, “[he is] not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”   My frustration at his delay is not just misinformed, it’s actually sinful. I am frustrated that God would delay my life to extend grace to another, as if my time is more valuable than his glory.   Father, what an affront my anger is to your patient love. What arrogance I have to think myself more deserving of...

“After traveling the stars, after watching suns die and their planets swallowed in the wake of their novae, after walking upon worlds where no man had set foot prior, and after shaping the galactic highways by which others may follow, I know that the answers of the heavens are not found out there. Because, in the inexplicable and unexplainable love that one man can have for another, I have discovered a thing which defies all reason and overcomes all chaos. This is not the answer of the heavens, but a marker lighting our way. For if such things exist that defy the very laws that govern our existence and fail time and time again to be adequately explained by the study of all things, then they must inherently transcend our realm and are only apparent to man during their brief intersections with us. By their nature, each of these must originate from beyond our scope of discovery, for our field of view is limited by the material machines we build to see the universe and the energy used to power them. We will never see what is outside our ability to see, nor will we be assured of their...

The engine shuttered and went quiet. Darkness overwhelmed the walls of the hotel, no longer illuminated by the headlights. I sighed. Without the noise of my jeep overpowering my senses, my breath sounded like shouting. I looked to my bag in the seat next to me and, as I shifted in my seat, my shirt rustled heavily. The sounds did nothing to alleviate my anxiety. Each one instead drove my heart deeper into the pit of my stomach.   With great force I motivated myself to reach across to the seats and pull the straps of the bag. With one motion I swung the door wide, flung my feet out the door, and slid from the seat. I moved quickly up the stairs, skipping every other step as I scaled them.   To my surprise, it was there, at the top of the stairs.   Under the silhouette of the mountains outlined by the moon, in the desert valley just beyond the highway, in the hotel to the left, up the stairs and straight ahead, it waited for me.   Room 209.   The chill of the air was deceptive. The day had been well above a hundred, yet...

The King Maker moves and takes rulers from their thrones. He breathes and presidents rise to power. By His hands judges are stripped from their office. The King Maker, Master Strategist, Sovereign Architect of History and the Future, and Author of Reality shapes our world according to His will and brings His plans into motion with impossible precision all the while accounting for and allowing the free will and independence of thought He endowed upon man. What is more incredible, a God who forces all things to His will without input or interaction, or a God who sovereignly writes the chapters of tomorrow to accomplish all He sets out to accomplish exactly as He plans it all by the vehicle of man’s free will? I find the latter so much more compelling. There is such freedom in knowing that my Father not only plans and ordains those decisions, but He responds and writes history based on the right He gave me to make them.   On this day, nearly three decades ago, a young mother went into labor. Tucked away in the Philippine jungle, eight hours by car from the hospital, she wasn’t expecting her child for another three...