taking flight // incense

i've been making observations about this faith of mine.

little by little, i'm stepping deeper and deeper into the Holy of Hollies, the place now opened from top to bottom when He whispered it is finished. and the ground shook with the intensity of how much He desired me. and now i'm shrouded in veils with Him, a tent in the wild.

and i'm seeking, floating like a mermaid with fingers through the seaweed, sinking deeper and deeper in the water until i close my eyes and let myself drown to be risen again with a new name, a moniker of Light.

:: oh let my prayer 

be counted as incense 

before You

{psalm 141:13}

why do we fear the candlelight and the whispered repeated words and the sweet smell of incense rising to the heavens in a cloud of delicate worship? it's so strange when we look at the words and somehow wrap them up in a Church-appropriate package with a bow on top and pass it out as the only way allowed.

because He went to the mountain for peace be still, and i'm following in His footsteps, or at least i'm learning how to walk that way. for now, i'm riding on the Lion's back like a lamb with a broken leg. and i have a warm blanket for those cold winter nights among the fur trees with the stars above singing His glory.

and i'm drawing a circle in the dirt and sitting there with candles lit around me. and i'm worshiping here in my wilder-ness to the One Who Sees, to the Wild-Maker who tucks feathers behind my ear and whispers

rise up on eagle's wings, daughter
and I will teach you how to fly

mantra

{via pinterest}

there's something about the unknown, something deep that i cannot fully explain, even though i'd like to try. we've become a people set on the solving the unsolvable, unmasking the hidden, and insisting on the knowing and the knowing now. 

but there's a lot of power in these unknown things. and it's okay to exhale and whisper, 

i know naught, save Thee. 

there is so much power in the things that are yet hidden, those things too vast and too beautiful and too strange to comprehend. things He knows, and that i don't. because He is God, and i am not. 

and sometimes i don't know how i'll take one more breath, because life is hard sometimes and the dishes fill the sink and the tears fall to match the shower drops, invisible to all but the One who sees it all.

and there are times i find myself on my knees with the water raining down on my head and strands of hair falling on my face, and the ceramic is the only thing keeping me from falling down through the core of the Earth.

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}

because He is One, and He is Three. and i am body that dies but soul that lives eternal. and i cling to the Rock that is higher than i, and i stand in the storm. 

i want to live from inhale to exhale, and then live again. i want to burn with the holy fire that never goes out, never falters, even in the rain. 

and i lift my hands and sing fire to the sunrise, the mantra of the warrioress that thuds beneath my skin as familiar as my heartbeat. 

i know naught, save Thee. 

{linking again, only redemption, with dear emily and her community of imperfect prose}

:: in which we are behind the glass

{via pinterest}

there's a lot of glass in this world. we spend most our lives behind glass, looking through panes to see out. we live and sleep and eat and breathe and even travel from ocean to ocean behind glass.

it's a lot of inside-out living, transparency our friend but the glass is covered in fingerprints with noses pressed up close to see everything that we just can't touch.

lend me your eyes, i can change what you see

but your heart, you must keep totally free

:: mumford and sons

sometimes the glass is there as a leaning post, something to press against and keep us steady, keep us close to the world but just out of reach.

are we afraid of the world outside, the puddles that might be deeper than we first imagine, the sharp stones that might cut our feet and make us bleed? 

there's an unsure-ity, an aspect of hesitation that comes hand in hand with that sunlight, oh that sunlight that kisses the glass and sends a thousand rainbows our way...always just out of reach.

and thumbprints, one of a kind, smoosh across the glass as we press our palms there like little children and wait...

...we wait for the day that the blinders come off, that we grow up enough to pass milk up for the meat and stand strong on the Rock that is greater, stronger.

and the curtain is torn and the glass shatters like ice from a shed roof in a sparkling crash that sings

freedom. 

{via pinterest}

and on and on and on and on it goes

till it overwhelms and satisfies my soul.

:: just one thing remains ::

it's childlike faith that never falters and never changes. 

it's innocent hearts in adult bodies.

it's wise serpents and gentle doves curled together like the promise in Isaiah, two things so foreign and so deadly one to another made sanctified and holy because a little child shall lead them. 

and so we press bare feet to hardwood floors and press our noses to glass as we wait until we're grown, just a little stronger with roots a little deeper. 

then comes the shatter 

// and then comes the light. 

sdrawkcab // backwards

{via pinterest}

sometimes, i marvel at how the words of one can ring deep in the soul of another. 

it's one of those reasons that i find it a privilege to spend my Sunday mornings in my church. because we have people that resonate. 

but then i have to sit and question my motives. because i don't know if i take this gift with me when i step out those double doors. 

am i Martha when i should be Mary?

each morning when i wake up, i find myself making lists of things i need to do in the limited hours that i have this day. 

laundry and dishes and linens and groceries and menus. 

i have to separate myself from these things to find my quiet. and its only after every checkmark is in place that i take a moment to myself, that i share a moment with the King. 

it's backwards. 

i know i have my daily chores, my obligations and things that must be accomplished for my day to proceed onwards. 

{via pinterest}

but why is He not first? and why do i think that when i rise from my knees that i leave Him on the floor? 

this is why i am Mary, seeking Him in clothespins and laundry lines. 

finding conversations with my Lord amid the dishes and the passing crowds in grocery aisles. 

because eternity matters. 

ten years from now, my lists will be crumpled and tossed aside, and my chores of November and December will not be remembered. 

this sacredness, this seeking, will change my heart. transform my life.

i'm putting Him first. 

daily striving to leave Martha at the door, and live as Mary at His feet.