Heavenward

Faith, Poetry

You may think I am delusional, to believe God cares about every detail

But if he knows the number of hairs on my head, then I know that he’s my author and creator

If he writes my name on the palm of his hand, then I know that I am visible to him

If he knitted me together in my mother’s womb, then not one strand of my DNA is a mystery to him

If he’s held my life in his heart, before it even started, then I am assured it matters to him

If he sent his son to die on a cross so that I could be near to him, then I know my presence delights him

If he raised Jesus up from the grave, I am confident that I will be raised with him

If he sent his Holy Spirit in his son’s place, then I am promised his everlasting presence

So you may think I’m delusional, but my heart has been altered by too many sweet encounters

Despite the pain of this life, I am born of hope, washed in the mindset of eternity to see just a spec of how utterly vast and incomprehensible his love is for me

Not just for me and not just for those who call him father, even though we have the mind blowing privilege to walk with our Papa

For every human soul, of every religion and creed is loved with an almighty love and so I cannot stay silent

Whether you know it or not

You were born to know the creator of star dust, of science, of seasons, of harvests, of music, of beauty, of secrets and stillness

You were born to receive the love of our father expressed in the life of a servant we call saviour, Jesus Christ

You were born with a singular purpose, to love and be loved by God, who wills all goodness to pour into you through his relationship

You are his favourite creation, you and billions of others…

If you don’t believe me, stop and ask him

You never know, you might come face to face with Jesus

You might just hear a whisper and an unexpected nudge to look heavenward

Light to the Darkness

Faith, Poetry, Uncategorized

Sowing seeds in the desert may seem insane

When the drought hits, some may say

“what’s the point of working the land”

In your seasons of dryness, don’t stay silent

These are the seasons to declare God’s promises

When your carpet is worn and your knees dented from labouring into what feels like deadness

Raise your voice, plant your prayers

God hears every word uttered in the name of Jesus

And there will be a crop, there will be a harvest

Turn from your disappointments and look to the gardener

He can make water flow from solid rock

Bring life to dry bones, bring joy where there’s none

His love brings abundance, even from emptiness

Holy Spirit come and bring light to the darkness

Which Voice

Faith, Poetry

The devil shouts

Even his whispers are loud

The taunting sounds of all our fears.

But quieten, still now

Listen for the gentle voice

The unforced voice

The outstretched arms voice

Perfect love making a way.

The devil tempts you

Into smaller and smaller spaces

But God’s gentle guidance 

Leads you into wide open places

Prayer

Faith, Poetry

It’s in that place, an utterance, a mumbled mutter, a barely audible whisper, a scream, a gasping, ranting, silent, loud off loading, begging, standing firm, requesting, yearning, writing his promises on my heart and then pouring them out and hoping, hoping, always hoping that the barriers between angels and men, the barriers between waiting and receiving, the barriers between winning and losing, barriers between my understanding and the reality diminish and my eyes see the glory of God revealed, His kingdom come, His will done on earth as in heaven.