Did your parents, teachers, colleagues teach you the parameters of what is right and what is wrong?  Were you born with this understanding? Certainly not.  Then how do we collectively operate on a set of moral standards that are consistent enough that you may interview a huge swath of unrelated people and they will all agree on the list? Let us play the advocate for falsehood for a moment and say that we had somehow over the ages determined through a collective examination of the moral standards of civilization an agreed upon list that has lasted throughout the ages.

Where is this list? Who in history determined it and how did they do such a precise job that people from all races, religions, cultures and classes generally agree with its content. How then is that list that has managed to survive for ages and eons now somehow inadequate and being tested? Have the foundational parameters of civilization suddenly transformed that a mass departure from that list would be constituted by an agreed upon edit?  If it was produced by society’s wisdom then shouldn’t it continue to endure throughout the ages of society?

We must face certain realities about the transformation of our nation and its natural tendency toward decay. That is the way of all things in this world, without the sufficient maintenance and upkeep they naturally begin to fray, unravel, rot and decay. First, on the edges and then within the body begins to show signs of its mortality and may be refreshed but when left to this process it will eventually fall apart and die or vise versa. We had forgotten that this nation was a living example of the aspirations of men to live free. Without proper maintenance and protection, especially of the renewed liberty necessary for the children to grow up and assume their position as steward, this country began to unravel and now is clearly demonstrating the results of full on decay as the odor of rot sets into its body. What will happen next depends entirely upon what we plan to do to either restore it to full health or allow the rot to continue perhaps even speeding up the process by division and war.

That considered, it is imperative for us to determine the answer to our first question; how do we know what is right and what is wrong? This set of understandings is pivotal to the restoration of this once great nation, for without this collective understanding then some Americans will feel that they may practice any behavior and consider it condoned. So where is our list? How do we view it and how do we update it to restore that foundational understanding to our citizens that we might walk with a faith in the security provided by this collective agreement?

Oh, there is a list but you don’t want to talk about it, because to do so would be to acknowledge that there is someone Sovereign, who developed that list to show mankind their sin. I understand, to acknowledge such a begin would mean that you are no longer in charge of what happens on Earth or in the heavens that this Sovereign being would make the rules for man.  It would also mean that He sees us and knows what we are doing and is going to hold to some account for our alignment with that list we were given. Oh, and we also understand that this Sovereign being has declared that all who come to Him and believe upon the salvation that He provided for us to be free from our guilt and sin and that every person must make a decision on that belief or unbelief before the end of their lifetime. Wow, that does make it a complex decision being faced with that reality. Do I acknowledge a list of right and wrong which will allow us to restore this nation, knowing fully that in so doing I must also acknowledge God’s power and authority over my life and the life thereafter or do I just allow America to rot?

These are important times not only for America but for all men for this is the time of our clear decision making with regard to God and simultaneously with the continuation of this Nation He has given us.  I get it that you say that you live in the land of the Free, where you get to choose who you want to worship, even if it is greed, avarice and your own personal list of delights. However, with a nation, especially a free and Sovereign Republic that boasts inalienable rights that cannot be taken from us because they were given by God, there are a set of responsibilities, just as there is a list of what is right and what is wrong that demand performance by all. You certainly do not have to worship God and say you are a Christian, but for the good and continued health of this nation you would have to acknowledge His existence and that He made the rules of what is good and bad and that you are consciously going to abide by His rules for the good of this nation.  Without this understanding there is no America.

Like it or not you are a steward, born to live free in a Nation that requires you maintain its Sovereign by standing by that nation, abiding by the rule of Law establish by men through God and acknowledge that your Sovereign Freedom is subordinate to the Sovereign Authority of Almighty God, the God of Abraham, Issac and Jacob. In so doing you must acknowledge that the Bible is in fact Truth and that the commands He gives to men must be adhered to and will be adhered to by you and your family for the good of this nation’s Posterity and Health. Yes there is a list of what is right and what is wrong it is called the ten commandments and it is the basis that made this nation powerful as we used it as a guide for a our moral action. Without it we decay, dissolve and fade into history. With it we stand strong as one nation under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for All. We all must make a choice when asked is there a guidebook for what makes America great. Will you accept and speak the truth when asked to make that decision yourself?

Must I understand the elements that construct life in order to put shoulder to plow and love to heart? Is it a requirement that each relationship be conducted in a manner that it is precise, with a sense of value and purpose in order to Love in God’s Peculiar fashion? Is it necessary to forgo those things attributed to “well that’s just the way I am get over it” in order to accept and become the transformed creature of God’s reconfigure? Must we see ourselves fully in the identity and perspective of God’s understanding in order to launch forward upon the divine quest determined for each of us? Well, Yes.

When I am done complaining about what I cannot do for God, then maybe, as I sigh, it will dawn upon this daft intellect that I never could do any of it from the outset. It is the expectation born of my carnality that marries me to a limited boundary of imagination, moderated by my incapacity to manage the outcomes. When the results are of God’s to deliver, how may I manage or become successful in reaching destinations that I have predetermined which by nature are sans the miraculous intervention of Spirit? I cannot get there because I don’t know where there is.  And I don’t know the road to get there nor do I have the power and authority to breach the immeasurable gaps or necessary skill to create the interrelationships required to build the bridge I never imagined would lead from here to there. Lengthy but you get the point.

Father, this thing you want done, I cannot do, but I will still accomplish these tasks, as Your Spirit fills me with understanding, perspective, peace, courage and equipment in the perfect timing for its completion. Surrender is a word that was counter intuitive to this man, until I understood that within that surrender I found peace and successes beyond my imagination and scope. The new man will be ready when it is time to move. Whether that is the case at present is purely within your evaluation and counsel. Here I am Lord, this man, Send Me.  I Love and Praise You for all that You are, especially for that which I am not. In Jesus’ Mighty Name.

Even the love I have for Him came from His Hand. Without the creation of this heart, mind, soul, Spirit and strength, I could not love Him as I do. Without showing me the purpose, strength, elasticity and depth of love itself, I would not know the first step in loving anyone, including myself. Without loving me when I was unworthy of attention, never mind love, He demonstrated to me the ideal that Love has no conditions and it blossoms to its ripest tones when given at that moment of disfavor or disobedience. Without His firm hand of Loving discipline within my life I never would have transformed from the hopeless carnal character I had consoled myself to destiny. Without the creation of Love I would be alone without cause, purpose, safety, solace or accord.

This life is simple for me, I just continue to walk that direction. The direction of the light that shines ahead telling me, bidding me remain on the skinny path. Even when I fall from the stonepads of the pathway, I am either gently helped back up or forced back to him by the pressures of this drastic, evil, powerful character group that have been designed for that purpose. I eat food that I bought with the money He gave my by either using the back He gave me or the brain that He gave me to earn it. I wash it down with the water He invented to quench my terrible thirst that He put in my making to tell me when my body required liquid. I don’t want to do disservice to this ideal by belaboring the point.

All that I am is easy to be because He made me what I am. I am not using that as an excuse rather as a Praise because you know what although, I tire of this world’s frailty, mortality and consistent departure from the love of God, I do so enjoy the life that He has given to me. Breathing is a blessing, watching butterflies, kids, rockets, games and science is an astounding experience. Smelling barbecue, lillies, grass, wheat and the smelly dog, remind me of days when I really felt loved by all. The tastes of snowy winter and the bite of cold upon my neck and fingers taught me to prepare and hope for spring. These are the days for which I was intended to stare into the promised future offered by Almighty God, resound and confirmed in the Love I have for Him that always brings me right back to the foot of His Throne. I love you for loving me Lord, without which I would have never known.

The say, a peculiar adjustment to the song that I always sing. Charm spectrum’s muse interrupted in the questions that you must bring. A day in between the measures waiting for syncopation of every beat. Once I believed in midnight, until I landed squarely at your feet. Now I just wait and wander with a dry mouth filled with why? Dance in the dust of skeptics a lullaby to the sky.

What is the rarity precious that causes the tears to fall? Done in the dew of morning a cheek and lip waterfall. Tiny little eyes so taming cancelled my extended youth. Born of the word of justice and the clearly expectant truth. Pregnant as the eighth month ponders each cramp a demanding sign. Gone are the lovers quarrels and the willingness to run or resign.

This is the ground for standing as if the journey be decided here. Standing with shield and buckler disaffected or mediated by the fear. Loss is the only measure of the Love we have let pass us bye. Gone for the ego’s pleasure never stopping to inquire why? This is the storm of glory and the shaking of the heavenly realm. Lost in the plunging surface is the sleeping God at the helm.

Starlit whispers ever-present as we beckon coming sleep. Into the depths and fathoms the sirens shall never creep. Wife to the King of Heaven she stands testimony of relentless hope. The captain searches the tomes of direction but finds it beyond his scope. The wings of dominion extended for the Glory of God Appearing. All those who love that moment lay asleep dreaming of cheering.

While rest is the passions potent to work the residing calm. The Magi came across the desert to sing that beloved psalm. To a baby we are given service to the king come to Earthly heart. He knew that we stood not knowing that He would save us from the start. All to the end’s beginning dynamic sparks and fine displays. As if glory bids us find our capture in the midst of mighty maze.

But seeing is believing and believing is better yet. The gift that keeps on giving reciprocal of perpetual bet. Long to know forever for now it is hidden by time. Like the love that I have for God enshrouded within this rhyme. Dance as if it’s the gift you’d give him and sing at the top of your voice. Thankful now and forever for the opportunity to make that choice.

No places, no time for serenity and comfort. No Peace but that which is delivered in exchange for cares and worries. No day but today, no face but the real one, no armor but God’s. Freed from hunger and thirst for mortal instinct but for Glory’s tasteful righteousness wrapped in a dominant Word so appealing, given in request with wisdom, courage and bridles busting faith.  To plow, shoulders now, HEAVE! Of one Accord, PUSH!, With one Voice, SING!, ,praises to the King of our Calling.

Charmed by the eloquence of a quiet voice not asking, not bidding, but reminding me of what I want to do, what I was meant to do, all that matters. In service to a dream, not the fanciful parades of imaginary sequence, but the quiet directions of slumber leading, directing, providing, engaging all cylinders set to flaming fire. Dark subjects fade into mist the mist of this temporary existence, as the seed begins to sprout a Spirit filled creature unbeknownst but akin to that mortal beginning.  Time to transform, in this chrysalis,  This life disguised as the entire package but nothing but a tapestry setting stages. We dance and believe that joy is real, having provoked ourselves to happiness, imagining the end of this is in fact some destination. Further and further from Truth. This is seedville, the crop, a new person, meant to kneel in the presence of glory, born of the transition between finite and fiction. The real of what the myth should build.

This is not a test but preparation for a meeting with the reality of God’s Faithful Promise and Resolve. A shelter, a sham, a perfectly designed habitat through which a man either sprouts and becomes the next thing or dwindles to feed the carbon remnants of the processes. What we shall become only the Lord knows, and the timing kept hidden as we would casually approach that which requires alacrity,  commitment and perhaps a measure of terror’s quickening. This mortal frame is the seed of that flourished engagement to harvest’s horizon. What then does a seed have in repair to deliver such outcome? Response and participation.

Being is our duty, I AM our God, Life its own outcome, having either chosen to blossom or retreat to the fires of Creation’s waste and memories of failed decision. This is nothing, nada, nowhere but the inside of a birthing chamber awaiting recreation for eternity spent with Almighty God we hardly understand and cannot wait to Know. In Jesus’ Name.

Monocotyledon, Dicotyledon,  Zygotes, all of them reference to plant seeds. Time bombs of existence waiting for a prescribed moment to separate, reproduce and sprout for their encoded life into a world of mortality. Whispered and directed by God for a single purpose to interact with this created world and produce and specific singular or set of outcomes. To continue in existence, repeatedly to flourish and produce some manner of shade, fruit, food, covering, symbiosis and then perish to return a chemical measure of that recipe that created life to the soil for recycle. Do they question that purpose when bursting forth, a pear not wishing to be such but instead demanding to be converted to apple? No, this is something retained specifically for humans as a measure of their free will to determine either complicity, congruence and agreement with God or rebellion.

What is the power of a seed that it is the essential provision of each disciple? A seed planted in random soil, hoping for a certain set of circumstances based upon the soil’s comport to produce a glorious result determined only by God. We must look to the simple to confound the complex. A seed meets its purpose or fails, never wavering from that genetic engineering to by choice divert from that original intent. It is a gift and perhaps curse for man to make the decision to fight against the Lord’s intention for Life planted with the “SEED”, Sperm, and subsequent “FETUS” BABY. To mess with rearrange or determine outcomes or change the specific intentions of God for that seed is anathema to His Sovereignty. If you believe that you are just doing you, well think again, you have begun the war with God that shall not end pleasantly for you, even if it provides some short-term, sinful, sensory activation.

We did not make the seed, we do not encode the seed with its purpose, we do not trigger the seed to separate, divide, germinate or prosper.  We simply follow God’s rules for creation and provide water, fertilization and maintenance of the seed as it does what God programmed it to do, as any good steward would.  I cannot determine the quality of your soil, I cannot break up the hard ground or enrich the vitamins that may be missing from that soil to provide for solid, healthy Growth.  I cannot force a seed to sprout, but through patient care may be able to provide the environment and support for a seed to flourish in completion of its programming from God. My job is plant the seed and tend it. That being said, the Lord Jesus Christ came into this world to redeem us to God himself. God cannot be near sin and each of us having that sin in our lives must be cleansed of that unrighteousness prior to being in His presence. Christ provided the means for this eternal cleansing, by shedding His life to pay for the debt that all men owe, the debt of that sin which is death. He paid the death that we cannot pay if we are to live eternally, Being Born Again into that eternity through the price paid on that day He died voluntarily upon that Cross. We have but to confess this understanding, seeing our sin and the seed of His Eternality is placed within our hearts to sprout anew a life beyond our current mortal existence. That seed sealed by the indwelling of God’s Holy Spirit, transforms us into a new planting, new fruit, new man. This is the evolution that all men seek yet they somehow have been fooled to believe that there is any other purpose but that which God has given each seed. There is only one purpose within Creation and that is God’s Intent. Beyond it there is no hope, without it there is no life. Accept the seed of the Gospel of Good News that I am placing into your soil this day that God may in His perfect timing and intention make it sprout to produce a crop a thousand fold for the Glory of His Perfect Planning.

I pray for that seed to be tended in growth that it may transform you from simple mortality into the eternal person He originally intended that will never shine forth without this new planting, pruning and replenishing. In Jesus’ Holy Name.

May I give it voice? This thing that moans and groans as if pinned between cart and horse? Is it right to scream of frustrated tragedy or must silence control the teeth biting through tongue to resist exhalation? Where is the anger when a joyous row of teeth smile candidly through the wounded lips and tongue. What wonders lay beyond this level of comprehension that I might find solace in patient understanding and wisdom’s promise? How may a man so stricken with limited learning grasp the concept of planned obsolescence and upgraded internal aptitude? How appended the abridgment when time constrains the present pain with expected relief?

There are coming storms that will make the daydreams and nightmare of yesterday’s disaster seem quixotic and serene. Snares of vast orbital gravity shall encompass mankind in prisons too strong for exit, leaving the lashed exhausted in helpless expectation. How challenging to remember they are volunteered and no man bid entry without cause? This is abomination, that the rested, arrogant and wise find themselves captive to a cause they never asked to enter but find themselves firmly grasped within. For there is no surety and fairness in the realms of war. No promised or reasonable expectation for being treated with care or kindness or anger, despair and torture. For all things are possible in the tolerable spectrum of relative probability.  The only certain components, time and finite qualifications for passage based upon utterance and request of quarter.

They team now against the inevitable frailty of their arguments, knowing as barrister that case be lost on fact or evidence so brilliant table pounding and passion the only ploy. This Judge offers no submissions, no motions, no advocates, no witness, no defense, only the pure rhetoric and fact of visual audience and action. The actual crimes reviewed as a product of memory sealing the guilty with absolute fairness in culpability. The judgement each time being swift, fair, equal and indisputable, Death and separation from God for eternity, roiling in the ashen nightmare of molten fire and darkness reserved for Angels alone, but shared through volunteer request for participation of unrequited man.

Does it matter now the man that each foresees or recalls? Is this construct this script determining factor in that horrific escapade of certain judgment? Well, yes but not the quality of travail but the humility of character responding to parley and offered release. Most will simply ignore for unjust, unsound determination that it simply be nonsense. Many will fail to accept the gift for logic’s siren and surety that another way must exist. And some will simply deny that they ever belonged within the realms of creation, somehow thinking themselves beyond its reached or lawful prudence. But most the tearful most will simply fail to make answer in allotted time, thinking to themselves that they must have at least one day left to live for themselves. In this tragedy finds definition.

Why then shall we ponder the pain of missed appointments or unheeded recommendation? For each man knows the same material, holds the key, the directions, the exact same grace before his face, to grasp or turn away.  This tarry is mine alone for it is joyous pain of promised coming and suffering aligned with Christ. A gift in preparation for eternal registration and welcome to lasting allegiance. They enjoy or seek to suck the last fat from bony marrow, whilst we hold on to what we’ve got in courage and faithful understanding, not knowing dates but seasons. Not knowing circumstances but reasons and suffering brightly, hoping as God sees to speak the Name of Jesus as Heaven’s Gate emerges in the cloudless sky. May He know us upon arrival or our delivery to His burnished feet. For this joy I hold my cry, my burden, my painful resistance in the courageous comprehension that it is finished, for all time.

In Jesus’ Mighty Name.

As they twirl about my head the thoughts no longer trouble but seek to coalesce. No trouble sleeping, breathing easy the dreams of slumber’s unmasking. Whether nonsense or real the images projected across my resting mind clarify the drivel in the mist. Realizing the power in shades, honoring light as they do, some make better camo than others. The degradation of excuse’s option leaves me naked to the cold, burning imprint of Reality’s centrifuge. I am lain bare.

Unforgotten rarity of moments from which peace may prosper. Downside to resisted war that resolution marries self-control and devotion to compromise’s co-opted influences. Where then shall I park this vehicle of hate that is so tremendously productive in misery’s cause. Shant God allow me to resemble that which has fallen and rides among us, shotgun? These are not dreams but putrefied nightmares frozen plasma into the glossary of fate’s trauma. Gone are the rotten things of wanton desire, passing for noble dreams, replaced only by Glory’s Grandeur. Ah, rest and fealty a mixture made from organic life resting on conservative reason.

They want to know all answer, when even part shall split asunder the atom’s glued together. Wisdom is not key to the entire universe but rational in appetites for knowledge, gloom and pleasure. A skeptic measure of the content reserved for man’s understanding. Day’s undertaken without shield to tympani or chalice are best spent in resolve, restored and replenished in fearful contemplation. Is this a Spring moment for answers to flourish and ripen in the sunshine of rounded epiphany? Or the tawdry, tiresome testimonies of winter’s promise to keep silent the treasures of mourning? What lay before us in star’s proximity? The leisure of universal compromise or the treasured pleasure of expanding nebulae? How far does the sun’s eye see?

They reach back to times before recording or habits brushed from the memory of night. Into complex kits of sanction and ceremony the march about bedraggled in the shiny black of the satin dew. Parading forth oblivious to Portal’s Eye upon them containing courage to feed the cold vacuum of fright’s compression upon the once unscuffable  hypocrisy of Pride’s Certain Service. The tapestry frayed upon inspection has been disassembled to colored yarn unwinding the story of its making. Into space no scream has been uttered for lack of voice, or mouth, or string to sound caution to wind unbroken. They lay dormant as this mind reflecting the images of dream, given to a soldier awaiting battle, the knowledge of a return home to the glory of God’s thankfulness and anticipated delight.

Father in the searing, soul pain of immolation forgive me if I wince and grit my teeth, murmuring. It seems that there will be a point at which this becomes beyond bearable but joyous in the knowledge of its cleansing authority. This however, is the time of my regretful, spiritual infancy. Lord, I never realized how far I was separated from the destination of this questing. For this is about purity, holiness and moment when I may be found in standing acceptable to the King’s Guard in review. Is it because I have so little understanding of your Righteousness? Is that the seeming trillion, light year journey from me to you, in that I am so undistinguished, poisoned and impure that it is impossible for man to cross that crevasse that separates man from Maker?

I will sit here Lord and pray that at some point I am removed from this conforming flame, not to escape but because it has completed its work in my preparation. It consumes, devours, reforms, cleanses and threatens at even the resistant power of my grip upon everything Earthly. And when I let go, opening my desperate clutch upon life ideas melt into the flux of nonexistence, even the tarnished memories and glib moments of sensory input are reformed, deleting memory and choice. This is the pain of rebirth, shredded by raging wind of furious fire that burns in cauterization of human wound, healing as it passes, stripping all not treasured by God.

I am so simple, in my understanding and wanton measure. No grand quests left seeking mark or pleasure. In the dream I see service in camaraderie to the King. No medals born in victories cheer as heaven’s glory beckons near, a whisper with the force of trumpet’s port, not the sort of man’s making, but of plans measured in eon. Can you see me on that burnished hill, having never ascended but descended into the recalling of all that went astray, left with awe and linen to display? What day is such that we portend that every wound and illness mend, leaving scar not forgotten but freed from sin and smell of rotten. Sitting in the forging fires not the flames fueling pyres upon a mountain shame in passing but the rekindling of a Spirit shorn from the sheep and shepherds horn. To leave this World and Be Reborn.