Wonderland

To be anywhere but here, in this place where everything is upside down

Like Alice spiraling into wonderland, nothing makes sense in this place

Up is now down and down went sideways.

Where do i go from here?

How should i feel about this place?

My whole being tingles with emotion just under the surface, planning an explosive attack

Many casualties, no survivors.

My heart feels like each beat is another step towards leaping completely out of my chest.

Like it might flash me a peace sign as is walks away from me, leaving a hole.

Amid the war brewing inside i try to sing myself a song

"its all gonna be okay, its all gonna be okay"

This brings no comfort because i am still Alice and my body is still at war by the end of the tune.

So then what is left to do?

Do i accept defeat and allow myself to make a home in wonderland?

Will my body actually implode?

And God?

What is He doing?

Why am i in this place?

He is ahead of me on our journey, around a bend where i can't see Him.

I don't know where to go.

I don't know what to do.

I am scared, alone.

What does it look like to worship in this place?

Because even though i can't see God doesn't mean He doesn't deserve my worship.

A silent reverence, a loud song, a broken prayer, sucking carpet?

What brings Him glory in this place?

There is no set protocol for worship in wonderland.

It doesn't require a set list, a schedule.

It is a groaning, a tear, utter surrender

Like the woman who feeds Elijah, the last is given

A song is formed without catchy lyrics or a sweet rhythm

Wonderland worship is a raw response to the power and glory of a most high God that,

even when up is down and down is sideways, needs to be praised and must be glorified.

Because the truth is, He is making wonderland a beautiful place even when Alice can't see it.

Rain

Watch the rain fall from its heavenly resting place, down to the earth.

Drop after drop it plummets to soak the dry, weary land.

Does the sky miss the rain after it falls?

Or does the rain, after its falling, miss its home in the sky?

The sky where the drops were formed,

Where they danced among the clouds.

Where drop by drop created a reservoir waiting to be poured out.

Waiting to fall

Waiting to fulfill their purpose

waiting to see where their new home will be

Their time comes, the sky is alive with a symphony of sound that resonates through everything below, it marks the coming of the rain.

And so it comes.

It makes its home in the ground, replenishing, saturating, giving.

Giving until there is almost nothing left of the drop.

In that moment the drop misses the sky, longs for its home.

Wishes it wasn't all alone

Wishing it could dance among the clouds

But it can't.

There is a greater purpose for the drop

To help give life and, for a time, learn to be alone.

Every face has a story

Every face has a story.

Each smile has seen a frown,

Every laugh knows a tear.

Each wrinkle is wisdom in disguise,

Every scar a tantalizing tale.

Every face has a story.

Each success has known some failure,

Every dream has seen dashed hopes.

Each heart has known love,

Every soul has felt connection.

Every face has a story.

Each body has grimaced in pain,

Every wound has felt a healing touch.

Every face has a story.

Will you ask?

Will you listen?

Will you tell?

Won't You delight (A song)

What can I give, but all I am to You

All that I am I lay down at Your feet

Won't You delight

Won't You delight

My life, an offering

I open my hands, they are Yours to use

Unbind my feet, I follow where You lead

Won't You delight

Won't You delight

My life, an offering

Paintings on canvas

We are beings made for intimacy with our Creator.

Made as canvas to become paintings from on high.

Beautiful art that glorifies our Beloved.

Each brush stroke another synchronized movement.

Our spirit moving with His, step by step, stroke by stroke.

The color is unique and vibrant; otherworldly.

A dance of greens, yellows, purples.

All coming together to create the perfect image.

Each painting, each life, is evidence of perfect worship;

Christ and His bride moving and growing, always together, never separate.

This is what was intended, what it would have looked like.

Perfect oneness, holy intimacy.

Instead there are imperfections, wounds, separation.

The paintings have spots that do not bring glory, the colors don't dance.

Some paintings stand still.

No dance.

No synchronization.

Empty and void with hope and beauty only He can see.

His color dances alone across the canvas waiting for a response,

A partner.

On each painting He is waiting to apply His blood,

the crowning jewel of each beautiful creation.

The blood makes the colors dance again, takes away the voids.

And what once did not bring glory, sings of who He is.

His blood restores.

His blood renews.

His blood forgives.

His blood saves.

His blood covers each painting.

Making every stroke, every move, every dancing color,

shout of His never ending love!

A Psalm

You say to go then have me stay

When oh God?

When will the back and forth,

the hesitation, the confusion cease?

When will the clouds lift?

When will i feel Your presence?

Oh how i long for Your touch,

to feel Your hand in mine.

My eyes yearn to see Your face,

show me how to see.

My ears have not heard You.

Oh God must i only stand on truth?

Where has the realness of You gone?

I want to embrace You, laugh with You,

sing with You, play with You.

I do not doubt who You are or

what You can do.

I do not question Your nearness

because i know You are near.

I have seen what You can do

I have experienced Your touch.

What i am asking is to have a

romance with You.

God that You would invade

every part of me

My thoughts, my actions.

And please just touch me, wrap me up.

Tangibly put Your arms around me.

I am hungry for Your touch.

Like a dry river bed i am desperate for water.

Lord let Your love overflow in my heart.

God i love You and I will praise Your name always.

You are the Holy King of heaven and

I exalt Your name.

Release the sound (A song)

There is a new song deep within my heart

There is a melody burning in my soul

So i'm asking you God

Won't You come and

Release the sound

Release the sound

I want to sing with the angels around Your throne

I want to see heaven come to earth

So i'm asking You God

Won't You come and

Release the sound

Release the sound

And we sing holy holy holy Lord

Waiting on the rain

Lord You spoke and we have heard

the promise of Your coming rain.

Everyday we lift our face to see if

today will be the day.

The day that the heavens break,

You release a flood.

We are waiting for the rain,

waiting for the rain to come.

Faces lifted up, arms raised high

expecting the flood.

Crack the heavens, split the sky

rain down Your mercy and grace because

Lord this land is dry.

Hear Your children's plea

as they cry out desperately

for a Savior to come and overwhelm with love.

To pull them up out of the clay

Lord, they need to be shown a way.

Last Breath(not really a worship post, but some of my writing all the same :) )

A one room shack with little to show,

But a little girl sitting, and waiting out the snow.

It is not her home, just a place to rest,

a place to belong, a place to forget.

Forget the pain of the frost on her face

and the loneliness of long winter days.

She stares at the snow falling through the cracks in the window;

Falling, landing, melting

Falling, landing, melting.

Singing a sad tune that only the little shack hears

"broken chair, broken glass, broken present, broken past,

broken hopes and broken dreams,

Everything is broken it seems.

Let the pieces fall where they may and

hope for a better day."

The orange glow of the winter night shines

through the window, casting shadows in the tiny space.

The little girl curs up in the middle of the floor.

With a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth,

she whispers a prayer of thanksgiving for the shelter

of the tiny shack.

Preparing to ascend she takes her last breath and says goodbye.

Snow falls through the cracks in the window

of a one room shack.

With little to show but a little girl finding her last comfort

under the roof, sheltered from the snow.

Living, resting, dieing

Living, resting, dieing