The Bride

Words are too easily spoken, 
in haste, in anger, in foolishness;

creates division and assumptions.

Where words are many,

sin is not far behind.

And there was one 
who sent a message to the groom,

Disparaging the bride.

The audacity, the bold-crass move of

Tearing down the bride

to the covenant bridegroom,

Cutting down perceived faults

Launching arrows of half-truths based on

inadequate knowledge

And perceived judgments.

Going to the groom to tear down the beloved bride.

What sort of evil does this?

But my heart too has unleashed disdain for another’s Bride,

Her brokenness and faults apparent in such human ways.

My heart has criticized her fleshly manners,

and the hurt has welcomed bitterness,

which always leave the door open for resentment.

Unsuspecting expectations sprawl out in disappointment;

The lofty standard of holiness left in unattainable air.

This Bride is fallen and not as perfect as her beautiful Groom,

And so it has been held against her.

Judge not my Bride,

for She is my body.

She is my love,

and the One for whom I have already

spilled my blood.

How His heart must ache when we, His children,

speak ill of His beloved,

speak ill of each other.

And yet the Bride is called to be one,

unified,

Christ glorified,

Father magnified,

Prodigals stupefied,

As they gaze in wonder and awe.

What sort of evil tears down the Bride to her Beloved?

The evil lurks in my own heart,

While repentance has served its eviction notice.

This is an early link up to beautiful Emily's blog, in the hush of the moon. Be sure to stop by there Thursdays for some amazing poetry.

The Terrifying Truth

I talked with my dad while he was in the hospital, and in his doped up state, he shared with me that as soon as he arrived at the hospital, his thought was that I would be there to take care of him. Because that's what I do. Except that this time, he was over 900 miles away, and I have a family to care for here, so I couldn't just drop everything and drive to Texas, though, truth be told, that was my first instinct. Drop everything. It's time to go.

When I hung up the phone with mom that morning, I sat on the floor weeping, working out in my head how I could get my family squared away and hop in the car headed for Texas. I was working it out. And the question came again.

Do you trust Me?

Well, yes, Lord, but...who's going to take care of him? who's going to ask these questions? who's going to take care of my mom? who's going to be sure he's getting the best of care? who's going to follow up with these issues? who's going to be his advocate? who's going to get him cleaned up when he vomits from the anesthesia? who's going to call for help when his pain gets worse? who's going to do all the things that need to be done so that my daddy gets the absolute best of care?

Do you trust Me?

Well, yes, Lord, but...You are so unpredictable. Can I trust you? How do I know You are counting these tears of mine? How do I know they will make a difference? How do I know that if I cry out to You, You will hear me and answer? How do I know that I can trust You with this? This is my daddy we're talking about. How do I know I can trust You? I've seen Your haphazard ways and You terrify me.

You terrify me.

Do You Trust Me?

My father has heart disease. His first heart attack was several years ago, and at that time, he received his first of several subsequent stents. And so while this is not new information for us, it has not yet become easier when news arrives that my father is having chest pain and is now in the hospital.

That was the phone call that I received a couple of days ago. My mother had called early in the morning to notify me that my father had been having chest pain, so they spent the night in the ER where he showed some changes on his EKG, and was soon to be admitted to a hospital bed while his pain continued to be evaluated. But this time was different because he wasn't here, with me, but in another state. My folks moved to Texas at the beginning of this year, and so now my dad was sitting in a hospital over 900 miles away from me. Ever felt helpless?

As my mom was relaying all the information to me on the phone and tears began to pour down my cheeks, what I heard in my heart was a question that I dread to answer. He has asked it of me many times before in my life, and somehow, I have always managed to avoid answering it. Maybe that was answer enough. And yet again, He was pressing in, asking...

Do you trust me?

Well, by head knowledge, this is an easy answer. By head knowledge, I know what I should say. But really...in my heart...I mean, this is my daddy we were talking about.

I worked in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit here in Tucson for over 10 years. I've seen more deaths than I could ever recall. I've carried some of the most precious of God's children to the morgue. I've seen prayers for healing, and the grief and anguish of prayers unanswered. I've seen weeping and wailing as parents cry out for the God of mercy to lay His healing hands on their babies. And I've seen it go unanswered. It all seems so haphazard. No rhyme or reason as to why this one was saved and this one passed. No formula that works and no guarantee that this prayer, this intercession, will "work."

Needless to say, this has become quite a sticky point for me in my walk. How do I pray for healing, how do I step in faith with this request, knowing how unreliable He has seemed through the years? Can I trust You? I don't know. You are so unpredictable.

Ugh. Did I just say God is unreliable? Many times, it seems easier to simply not ask, as it seems that God is going to do what He wills to do, regardless of the pleas of broken hearts and hurting souls. I came across this verse today in 1 Samuel 15:29:

He who is the Glory of Israel does not lie or change his mind; for he is not man, that he should change his mind.

It's a sticky point, and I'm sure that there are some great theological answers to this struggle, and great, pat Chistianese-answers that would rebuke me for even asking the questions, but that morning, as I sat on the floor of my bathroom weeping, helplessness overtook me. And my God said, "Do you trust me?" and I replied, "How can I?"

My Heart's Desire

I have seen a life of faith lived in complete abandon to worldly traditions,

a heart so devoted to prayer for every direction,

a mind so fully dependent on His very Word,

a tongue that so boldly speaks His truth,

and feet that are directed by His command alone.

I want that.

I have seen a heart so overwhelmed with gratitude that it cannot be contained,

ears so in tune to His voice as to hear His gentle whisper,

hands so willing to give everything for the sake of sharing His Name,

eyes that are able to see God’s children as the beauty He created,

and a life so disciplined in its pursuit of God.

I want that.

What about you? What do you desire for your spiritual journey?