The Roaring Mind

Devil's Den

The mind, the most powerful instrument or organ God ever created.  It has the power to creature beauty or bring destruction.  It is the source of words and actions that can restore life or steal it away.  It can be like a raging bull, unable to be controlled or corralled.  It can be a diligent conductor, directing the mouth and body to do things of strength and honor.  It can go mad, it can be brilliant.  The mind is so intriguing, yet so dangerous.  We try to understand it, try to quiet it.  At times we attempt to control it or want to erase it.  How can we truly understand it? 

I have seen my mind feel broken and weak; it has been wild and a blur.  I have seen it be brilliant and beautiful, creative and loving.  I have seen the full spectrum of emotion and thought travel through this organ that is my brain.  I understand hate, I understand loathing and darkness.  I understand longing and loneliness.  I have seen my mind wish for death, long to be brought to its end.  I have seen it yearn for the future and dream of the beyond.  It has gone wild and has been halted to a complete stop.  At times I fear my mind, I fear what it will think, what it will long to do.  Will I lose it, will I forget it.  It is the one thing that without we are nothing.  It defines us, makes us the personality we are.  No matter how far science advances, the mind is the one thing that cannot be recreated or replaced.  We can create limbs and replace organs, graft skin and grow hair, rebuild bone and restore tissue but the mind is irreplaceable.

Can anyone control this raging lion that stirs in my skull?  He roars and lashes demanded to be noticed, commanding to be heard.  My mouth at times opens in a flood of words or remains locked to imprison the whirling inside.  The only peace I have, the only tamer of my thoughts, the one who can conquer the raging beast, He is the only one who can see the depths of my turmoil, bring light to my darkness.  He has gone to the depths physically, mentally and emotionally yet was not defeated by the beast that resides there.  He defeated the beast that lurks in the darkness and whispers his detestable lies into my ears.  Jesus Christ alone has been the only true tamer of this ravenous creation that is my mind!

 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. II Timothy 1:7 (NKJV)

The King

Shine as the Rose



The king on his throne, crown of jewels upon his brow, rings on his fingers and gold sandals on his feet.  We stare in awe at the riches of his leisure and envy the power at his word.  Servants bring him bread and maids pour his wine.  They fill his bath with perfume and his bed with the plushest of pillows.  His wardrobe lavish and garments weaved of the finest in thread.  Oh how we wish for the luxuries of his life. 

                But do you see the burden, the heavy load of his bear?  His mind ever scans the tasks of his place.  The cart of questions and needs ever follow him around.  One after another they come, with complaint and want.  They throw their burdens ever forth before this, their king.  Upon his seat, no matter how plush the fabric or how sweet the wine, the burdens ever fall forth to lie at his feet.  Like rocks they fall to weigh down the one whom they are given.

                Do you stand back, lean by the wall, the shadows to conceal?  Do you watch the small and the weak as they bow at his feet?  Do you scoff their torn cloths and laugh at their bare feet?  They present their best treasures to this their king, whether small chicken or basket in hopes for his favor.   You watch as they come through to give of what they don’t have in hopes of much more.  You watch as the king takes great pride in their coming and thinks hard upon their needs.  He gives them his guidance and sends them on their way.  You laugh at this man, this one who is king.  Why do they bow at his feet?  Why do they humble before he?

                But what you don’t see is the biggest truth of all.  Yes they bring gifts of small and of feeble but in return what they received is so vary mush more.   This king set before you, he does not take of what they don’t have and leave them with less.  He gives them not only wisdom and discerning but treasures much more.  He loves these who come to his feet and guides their every step.  He heals their deep wounds and wipes away their stray tears.  He opens up his store house to give more than they have.  He gives cloths for their backs and food for their tables. He builds shelter for their families and protects their very lives.  He gives justice to their disparity and hope to their eyes.

                He does not give because of his wealth or because of his stature.  No, these are his people and for them he gives love.  They which give what little they have, he returns so much more.   

 

 

And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written: KING OF KINGS AND

Lord OF LORDS.  Revelations 19:16 (NKJV)

The Tree

Stretch Its Branches

A tree, it grows and stretches, never giving up its incessant attempt to touch the heavens.  It holds steady with the seasons, blooms in the spring and flourishes through the summer.  With the approach of fall, the chills and the wind, it hunkers down for the approach, the challenge ahead.  Steady at work it stores up its strength.  It gives up its leaves, renouncing its beauty, continually focused forward on the waiting sleep ahead.  With winter comes the storm, snow and the hail.  The feel of endless cold and relentless dark persists.  Waiting and still, the tree patiently sleeps, persevering and holding on for the return of spring.  It never gives up or runs away, it remains rooted and strong, feeding on the storehouse within.   

As the tree, life encounters seasons, times of joy and times of pain.  In times of summer and warmth, I stretch out my branches as the tree and dance with the clouds.  But in times when cold and bitterness attach, they bite at my roots and pull at my limbs. Do I stand strong and steady, do I hunker down and wait for the return of spring.  Do I feed on the storehouse within or do I starve and wither?  Do I bring in the nourishment of life or do I waist away in death?

The tree pushes its roots, breaking slowly through the rock and the soil.  It pulls in the water of life and minerals of strength.  It works tirelessly through the summer making its food.  It works persistently to store for the long winter ahead.  It pulls in the air, basks in the light, diligently at work on the task at hand.  It works in secret, only for its maker to see.  The eyes of the world cannot see its labor but only its beauty.  They envy its size, longing for its splendor but unknowing of its tiresome work.    

I am the tree and God is my gardener.  He plants me in fertile soil and brings waters to my roots.  He pours out sunlight over me and blows fresh air through my branches.  He keeps me rooted and tends my limbs.  He binds His Words within my depths and stores up his strength with my limbs.

I work day and night within the seasons of feasting, not to squander away or waste the hours but to store up my soul for the long winters ahead.  I feast on Your Word and drink of Your spirit.  I toil and tire to continually be filled with Your nourishing Life. 

I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing. John 15: 5 (NJKV)

The Castle

Face The Wall

The horn is blown!  The alarm is spread.  “Close the gates!” is shouted from the lookout.  “They are coming!” is cried out.  The Kingdom stops.  Everyone froze in anticipation of the danger approaching.  The gates are pulls shut, the drawbridge withdrawn.  Maids and cooks, butlers and stable hands retreat into the safety of the castle cellars. All in wait for the danger to pass.  The knights mount their steeds.  Soldiers armed and ready stand at attention, all waiting for the imminent attach.

Across the field, one would expect an army of tyrants, ready to seize.  But instead of soldiers and weapons, all that approaches is on single person.  Someone with cloths, warn and outdated.  Hair is askew and teeth may be crooked.  Voice a little boisterous or smile a bit timid.  No sword to slash or arrow to pierce, only one longing spirit continuing to search.  But even though the threat seems so small, so silly to some, to those within the walls this one is to be feared.

We walk into church every Sunday.  Welcome faces give greeting, friends say hello.  The worship team plays, the pastor gives teaching.  The offering plate passed, prayers are shared.  We fellowship and talk over coffee and cake.  Then slowly, as if on cue, people start leaving, each to their homes.  Some go for dinner, other to nap but everyone leaves to resume the lives that they live.  Did anyone notice, or did they not want to see, the couple in back, standing alone.  He stands tall but his eyes reflect loss.  She huddles close, cradling her child.  Someone says hi, another how are you?  But no one really stops to ask them their names or waits to hear the state of their story.  Each keep going on their merry way, no one to notice the souls lost in their midst. 

I know it is hard to step out of your comfort zone and speak to another.  This coming from someone who is a professional wall flower.  But occasionally the opportunity arises, that God gives me chance to speak to another.  Another wondering soul searching for answers.  I know how they feel and relate to their fears.  I get a chance to bring encouragement and words of true hope.  I also know what it is like to be the outsider, continuing to peer in but not feeling a part.  I have always fells bless but those special souls that have stepped outside their own lives and made me feel I belong. 

Some who walks through your door may be less than expected, some have baggage they carry, others swords at the ready.  Some have history of pain, others live among storms.  But each one has one thing in common, that small invisible place, God built in every one.  They search for the answer to the one real question that every life faces at one point or another.  Does anyone love me?  

Those who have Christ living out through them, have a treasure so dear, that it must be shared.  No matter the person or the history they bear, they deserve this treasure as much as you do, to be theirs.  Don’t be afraid, don’t be the judge, your mission is simple.  Open your mind and clear out your heart.  Let the treasure of Christ poor out onto all that come near.   

I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek.  Romans 1:16 (NKJV)

Celebrate Our Elders

Happy 70th Birthday

Everyone crowds in the room, quiet as a mouse.  Someone whispers a joke.  Someone snickers in response.  Another person holds a finger up, commanding all to shush. Someone quickly enters the room, wildly waving.  “Their coming!”  The next several moments pass as if hours.  Finally the door opens, steps slowly move across the floor.  Voices are heard off in the distance.  The face everyone is awaiting finally turns the corner. “SURPRISE!” the room erupts in a roar.  People laugh and cheer.  “Happy Birthday” is yelled.  A woman of many years stands in awe of the scene before her.  Smiling faces and welcoming hugs.  A cake is lit and presents are passed.  Food is shared and stories are told.  For a day in time a life is remembered.  

A 70^th birthday.  An event to truly celebrated.  For those of us at the lower end of life’s ladder, an age of this caliber is hard to imagine.  When thinking of my own Mom turning this rightful round age, I can’t help but think about how far her life has come.  She was the amazing source of my coming into this world.  She raised me from a helpless infant to a woman who can now stand on my own.  She prayed with me before bed and told me stories of old bible heroes.  She was strict with her rules and strong with her punishments.  She gave me the world with what pennies she had.  She always was there when pain held me down.      

Is there someone in your life, a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a pastor or a friend?  Someone who has been there with you through the toughest of times and the brightest of times.  You had moments where you cried together and other times to laugh together.  They corrected you when you went astray and praised you when you achieved.  They were not always perfect though.  At times they made mistakes.  Their humanness showed through.  They were not superman but they never gave up.  They were the person you searched for the answer.  The person who would push you to keep going.

In our lives, God blesses us with people to guide and help hold us up.  It may not be your parents.  They may have not been around.   They may have been overwhelmed with struggles of their own.  People may have abused you.  Friends may have lied to you but God always saw you.  When you needed a hand God would always provide.  He brought people into your life when you needed them most.  They were not perfect but their wisdom of years they would always supply. 

As you live your life, never take those who raised you up for granted.  They are the elders who made you who you are.  Celebrate them and thank them for all they have done.  Make sure they know they are a blessing God granted just for you.     

You shall rise before the gray headed and honor the presence of an old man, and fear your God: I am the Lord.  Leviticus 19:32

Fan or Follower?

Following to Leader



He has risen!  Do we say it as a cliché for our visit to church on Sunday or do we really mean it.  Do we really stop to think about the impact of this single action on the entire human race?  For all the billions and billions of people ever born into this world since the beginning of time and yet to be born, the fact that one man took every hurt, every pain, every failure, every mistake, and every darkness that has ever traveled through every life in this world is the greatest of feats no one can truly grasp.  I will never be able to totally grip the whole of the picture of this truth no matter how hard I try to wrap my fragile brain around it, I can still not see past the present moment where I stand.  At that realization, all I know to do is be thankful with as much of myself as I know how to give. 

The pastor spoke of not being a fan but being a follower of Christ.  A fan, a person who cheers and rejoices of winning, curses and pouts of loosing and stands aside while someone else slaves and works to achieve a goal while they themselves never move from their spectator seat.  The fan does not sweat on the field for hours on end trying to condition for that moment of truth.  The fan does not study and work day after day to achieve a purpose set before them.  The fan does not adjust and define their entire life behind a given reason and sacrifice to reach its end.  A follower though, they follow their leader.  They listen to the teaching; mimic the actions of the one they follow.  If their leader falls they are there on the ground with him trying to defend his position, pick him up and stand in his place.  If need be, become the leader if he can lead no longer.  They give up and let go of things just to continue on the path laid out by the one they follow.  Being a follower is painful and difficult.  There is no fame or glory on this road.  This is but great danger and turmoil that continues to pursue.  Being a follower is humbling and refining.  It grows and stretches you; you become the image of the one you follow. 

Am I a fan or a follower?  Do I cheer and rejoice over wins, wear the team colors, spouting about another’s great deeds?  Do I critique the calls of the coach while sitting in my seat behind the spectator line?  Or am a follower, am I willing to sacrifice my identity to become the identity of Christ?  Am I willing to give up everything to be the person he is seeking for me to be?  I look back on my life and see that God has already been teaching me the difficult lesson of being a follower.  He has slowly stripped away so many of the things that I have held onto to protect me from having to truly get my feet in the mud.  The people I have tried to follow, the things I have tried to label myself with, the things that I have tried to use to define myself without having to do the hard part and actually get down in the dirt of life and find out who Christ intended me to be?  Christ never intended me to follow the actions and dreams of man.  Man is not Christ, man fails and falls short but Christ, He is the General in an army that is so much stronger than any force built by man.  He strips away the luxuries of this world and asks us to get down in the trenches not to punish us or harm us but to strengthen us, to turn us into soldiers willing to follow him till the end of the battle.  To crawl in the mud, to climb the barbed fences, until the day we can all say the battle is over and the day of victory is here. 

If I had decided to stay a fan then I probably would have turned in the towel long ago.  Being a fan in this game does not bring the instant gratification that the fan continually seeks but being a follower willing to crawl in the mud of life to follow the leading of Christ brings a greater reward that only He can give. 

Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.  Matthew 16:24 (NKJV)

Battle of the Past

Battle Near Home (Gettysburg)

My mind is a stir of thought.  Fear nags like a pesky fly, determined to penetrate my deepest wells.  Each day I seek peace, quiet and tranquility but the constant conflict of life refuses to submit.  I become weary of the battle, too tired to stand guard.  If it is not a friendship gone sour, it’s a boss causing difference or a phone number emitting fear.  The lessons continue whether I want them or not.  Do I want to be a student or just a bystander of ignorance?  I learn to create boundaries with those whom I’m exposed.  I guard my words with caution with those who judge my steps.  I see how quickly a phone call can become a whirling mess. 

I ever hold the pain of friendships gone sour.  The scars refuse to leave but I seek a means to try.  I remember every broken word, stored in my deepest cellars.  The door remains locked except to enter a new offense.  No matter how hard I try to clean those dingy cellars something remains.  They leave their essence in a hair, a nail or a left over sandwich.  Always some little particle of their time with me remains. 

God heals and forgives, gives us the means of moving forward.  Does that mean the pain stops, the hurts don’t continue?   Like a pack of hungry dogs that nip at our heel?  God opens the doors to our future but the past doesn’t always depart.  We learn to focus forward, to ignore the hungry dogs.  They whine for our attention but refuse to submit.  They may fall behind and grow silent at times. Every dog we attract follows us still, whether ferocious or whimpering. 

Even on a chalk board washed clean, some form of the past still stays. Imprinted in the background of what is to be written.  Each pain, each hurt, does it not affect the future?  If I did not still remember some aspect of the past would I not just continue to be the same offender?  To repeat falls of my own weakness and blunder, to ever continue to run the same hamster wheel? 

Even though I grow weary of the battle, I know each pain has a purpose, each fear a tool for the building of my future.  With each wound I grow stronger, the wisdom of understanding grows deeper.  I realize ignorance is foolish.  If I remain ignorant of things of the past then how do I become a force for the future?  Each hurt, each wound drives me to never give up, never stop the endless battle to move forward.  Is it foolishness for me to believe this way?  Is it possible to just be a true pacifist, to never take part in the battle, to ever seek peace?  

In this world, the only giver of peace is Christ Jesus himself.  He is the bearer of peace and the strength of our armor.  No matter the pain, his love is ever near.  Only he has the power to change our past from a weight at our feet to the sword in our hand.  With every pain, every offence, my armor grows stronger.  The memories become tools instead of thorns in my mind.  Christ calls the battle continue and the march continue on.  But no matter how ferocious the battle, the Commander is always near.

“These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”  John 16:33 (NKJV)