three things // repost

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sometimes i want to write what i feel. i want to take what i see and do the undone and fix the unfixed and light the snuffed candle all over again. but then i look and i say, do i even see? do i even know anything?

and so i take my pen and my paper and my too-many thoughts and i sit and i wonder just what might happen if i knew something, anything at all.

i watch the people, feet on pavement and pavement on feet. and i realize what i know.

i know three things, because sarah kay says good things come in threes, and she's right, after all.

:: i know that light kills the dark ::

and when you're walking in the dark and there's nothing but a match in your pocket, it's a good thing to know. and when you're walking in the Night and there's nothing but a verse in your mind reminding to be still and know that I AM...it's a good thing to know.

:: i know that art is the voice even when it never speaks ::

i know that sometimes the silence of a paintbrush screams SEE ME and the whisper of just one wavering note in the empty concert halls cries I CAN DO THIS AFTER ALL and the raised arm on a stage is the salute to all things undone and all things done over and over and done well.

:: i know that mystery is just that, and it's okay to not know ::

i know that knowing is part of the battle, and when you don't know what you know that it can crush and scare and be unsure. but it's okay to have a mystery that you don't understand.

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and it's okay to let Him be the mystery of Love and Flesh and Man and God all in one small infant bundle, growing up up up to be Death and Life and Salvation and Water and Broken Bread with Wounds that Heal.

that is what i know. no more shaking ground for i stand on What, on Who i know. because i write what i feel and i feel what i know. and i know Him and little else. but that's power, okay? that Light is more than enough. that Water is more than enough.

because i know these things. Him and Him only. everlasting, time over time, from age to age.

Alpha and Omega, You answer. because You know

more than three things. 

{this is a slightly edited re-post from this post from December 2011

linking this renewal with emily today}

amen :: so be it

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i am in awe of the infinite. i am sitting and meditating hard on this word, amen. there is such depth in such a short word, flippantly flying off the tongue at the end of every prayer, at the pause in every causal heartwish.

but every time i finish a conversation with Him, i whisper a final plea.

amen.
so be it. 

and it's a sacred sort of whisper, the kind that resonate like the roots of a tree, solid in the earth but reaching up toward Heaven even still anchored deep in my memory.

because every word i speak He memorizes, and that's a little fearful to know that He cares so much about every letter that passes my lips that He remembers them all. every one.

and He likes me to ask Him. He knows what i need, but daddies like when their daughters come and ask them things, and Abba God wants me to lean on His knee and whisper, "can i please?"

it's the sacred amen, the faith found in the so be it, even in the shaky stillness when words come halting and hesitating. it's crying into the abyss and being caught up safe in the arms of the One who knew the second my footing trembled.

i thank God for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes

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:: e.e. cummings

and so i'm becoming less and less afraid to reach up and brush the foot of the Cross because i climbed the hill on bloody hands and knees, whispering "amen, yes, and amen, and yes and amen again."

i'm lighting a candle and pressing my face to the floor because there's something mighty about the lowering, allowing Him to wash my feet because i'm clean already except for the dirt of today's road. and it's the infinite of His glory that swallows me whole. 

and i die to live, drown to breathe.

i'm finding myself

at a loss for words

and the funny thing is

:: it's okay ::

{{word of god speak // mercy me}}

enigma

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i serve a conundrum. i worship an enigma.

a roaring Lion, King of Judah. a Lamb slain, silent before His murderers.

Living Water that burns like fire. 

a Man dead turned God alive. 

and i am in awe. because i'm unworthy, and still loved.

is it strange that barefoot equals a gesture of sacred? that exposing the dirty, broken toes that pound the earth step after step and still, that's what He wants as my act of humility?

the King of Glory wants my lowest. and all i have is enough for Him.

i want to bite into life and be torn by it

:: anais nin ::

and i do.

because He stood on cliff's edge with the Devil at His back, whispering the sweetest lies into the ear of the Son of God. and the Word was flung back, this double-edged sword which finally drove the serpent to its belly again.

oh, lead me to the cross
where Your love poured out.

this enigma i worship, the awe shudders in my soul like an ocean wave.  this Son of Heaven turned all Man but still all Deity.

:: the One who knows all is jealous for me ::

because my God is not simple, but He sees me simply. forgiven, covered, no shame here. this is the most complicated simplicity. sinner turned saint, demeaner turned daughter.

oh, the glory.

the fifth page :: mystery

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{to read the first page, visit here}

{to read the second page, visit here}
{to read the third page, visit here}

{to read the fourth page, visit here}

conviction is a powerful thing. it's something that can come out of nowhere, something that you never saw before a hand touched yours and words were whispered, you should look.

today, it took a whimsically tangled ski trip and a sacred blog post to grip my soul and turn my head toward you should look.

it's time to look at ourselves, the sisters and the brothers and the sons and the daughters of the Mighty One. it's time to look at who we were and the mold into which we are squeezing ourselves just because we think we have to fit. have we gotten stuck in the place where sacred gets sidelined, talked about in whispers and not fully understood anymore? 

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because it feels as though we let it go, and we stopped seeking when we stepped through the church doors. 

we have somehow entered the place where candle-lighters are greeted with wrinkled brows and those who seek the holy are the strange ones who look to hard for "the emotion." because mystery in the Word, not understanding everything that greets our eyes and tugs our souls...

is this wrong?

shouldn't we just know?

we need to step back and breathe and seek. we need to be free to acknowledge that it’s okay to be a mystic, a seeker in this dark world. where candles make your soul ring in the darkness and we invite the Creator to come and create WITH us.

this season is God with us, celebrated and overwhelming with candlelight and silence in the beholding. this here, this is the time where we find ourselves willing to open our door to the fragrant and cast aside the understandable. and for this, i raise shaking hands to broken clouds and whisper, 

come have me, won’t You?

mystery air

sometimes, it's hard to know things.

everyone teaches you like knowing is something you want to do, something that's required before you can exist in the big, wide world all by yourself. we have to learn things like how to tie our shoes and how to walk on the right side of the road so that we don't get hit by a speeding car.

but even when we know these things, even when we know where our feet are supposed to go, we still get hit by a speeding car. don't we all get blindsided, no matter how much we know?

but getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way

to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of 

:: air ::

{sarah kay}

so it's not about knowing. it's about being. it's not about knowing everything under the sun, it's about being willing to raise imperfect hands and whisper

my soul magnifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God, my Saviour. 

it's about taking the mystery in and making it become alive instead of locking the Light inside the vault to keep it "safe" from Earth and dirt. because that's what we celebrate a week from tomorrow, this thing of sacred becoming touchable.

this thing of gold and Living Water turning into blood and flesh and dark brown curls over chocolate eyes and gap-toothed grins in the middle of a stable with only a Star's light to herald the Light.

because mysteries are okay. the one who said they were doesn't understand this path we walk, and the Hand we hold, because sometimes it's all about mystery.

it's okay to not know. when all you can do is inhale exhale and inhale again, and that's all that you understand, i promise that it's okay.

and when you gaze into that face of long baby lashes and a soft triangle of milk-fed infancy, remember that this mystery is the earthly picture of another.

you know, the one where a teenager wrapped her arms around the Saviour of the world and kissed His cheek and called Him "Emmanuel."

:: because it's a mystery ::

 God with us, Word to flesh, breath to breath.

and it's okay to wonder, and be full of wonder.

La Belle et la Bête

"The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in." ~W. H. Auden

Every little girl has her favorite fairytale. The reason the story is her favorite is as unique and individual as she is -- a seemingly innocent glimpse into her psyche and her own brand of romance.

For me, it has always been "Beauty and the Beast."

Ever since I was old enough to pick up a book, I have been captivated by the rich romance and the sensual mystery wrapped up in the tale itself.

...a handsome yet arrogant prince, cursed to bear the visage of a beast until he can find someone to love him for his heart and not for his looks.

A dreamy and intelligent French girl who finds herself in an enchanted castle with a moody, romantic creature because of her father's careless mistake.

I don't know what it is about the story of the melancholy beast and the beautiful young bookworm that captivates me so strongly.

In fact, no matter what version or retelling of the story, I have yet to find one that does not capture the unspeakable essence of the story.

Perhaps it is the dramatic emotions of the story...maybe it is the elegant intensity found as the tale progresses...it might even be the gripping and beautiful truths found wrapped in this breathtaking package...

...the idea that beauty is more than just the outward appearance...that the heart is more important than the skin...

...the reminder that pride should be tempered with grace and elegance, and that books are doors to a vast world of imagination and romance...

For even in our adult world, filled with real-life problems and sorrows more than our hearts can bear at times, sometimes we need to remember a few basic truths from the fairytales that whisper to our youthful hearts.

Perhaps we need to take the time to crack open the long-forgotten spine of a familiar story, inhale the sent of leather and dust, and allow ourselves to find that place again...

...that place where roses are magical and castles in France hold our imaginations spellbound.