Tell me once again. The story of your capture. Remind me of your difficulties, not that I may feel torn by your suffering but see the righteous example of your standing. I wait in hope for the moment of your freedom, holding huge gulps of compressed air next to my beating heart. Walk with me so I can let this learning linger and prepare my mind for tomorrows causeway to the plateau beyond.

Sing to me of your sadness and hope. In dark sultry tones deafened by the thought of your jailers. Did you employ joy against despair? Did you help yourself to purpose and provision? What held you there? Did they cut your hair forcing you to blindly drop the temple upon their heads? What did you hear? Or did you speak filling the night with words in quest to cancel the fires of fear?

Dance within the dream to give this life rhythm commensurate with cave painting days and antiquity. Where did you go to that you ended up right back here in this rustic venture of repetition and dangling participles? Where to next as you pen circles so deeply on the pad that it cuts the parchment in little geometric origami. Do you know how proudly I’ve watched you wonder into victory? What kick started your sky born shuttle?

Hollar out the names of those who taught you folly and those who took your hope. For passions sake in forgiving moments remember to forgive and live the life he planted. Seeded by the heavenlies with gifts envied and sought stealing. What plans do you have outside of this splendor? Is there anything worth more than the perfect pearl or smile of those who loved you, truly loved? Peace is offered for taking to welcome each inhalation and prayer as you write your Poem for the Father.

Caution light. Forward into the dark expanse. Seeking, wet surface searching, fingers, palms, closing my eyes for better focus. Along, shuffling kicking debris before me never lifting foot to avoid a trip into oblivion. We learned of honor in the memories of those who taught us courage is advancing against the knights of evil without curse, fear being used as fuel to stand when the tank’s gone dry. The small whistle of frozen breeze masks the scraping and shambling sound of plastic on sandy stone.

Embers in the back of my mind. Brilliant sparks, orange, white and fire engine red. The calamity led for way too long into the nebulous night. Soothing sweat upon open brow using my nose as launching slope. Eye’s welcoming rest as mind, foot and finger take lead. Dancing to the rhythm of some maddened minister hoping to challenge the fiber of each man tested. With fallow ground I planted hoping that somehow God would grow that which I am incapable. Too good Earth I beckon.

No trash left to talk only walk, stepping out in the dark, believing, beholden to the light. For change we escape the wrestling hold of fright setting its whittled teeth in to our backs of courage. Shaking free. Strength untested rising from a place we’ve only heard about. Into the silence I put my faith, knowing the small quiet voice found in its depth will lead to promise and relief. Putting down the burden of my soul I find my way into the soundless sky, flying in the dreams of forgotten realms, delightful, Truth and rays of sun. Awake tomorrow, steal me from the playing field of today’s hopeless default.

A soft hand, held loosely as to frighten not the innocent places. Purity rides by in regal white, eschewing the folly of dread and yearning. Taupe stars and maddening suns want so much to include our focus in the melee of their reshaping creation. Unlikely imaginings shared softly with those who run from dreams. I felt the pain of paltry pursuit, seeking audience with queens and bishops three. Real is pleasant as first cool breath at dawn. Right is honored here as payment for peace and passion. As long as the coffers and censures are tended.

The Word is eternal and in His Sealing Spirit so am I. I seek to Do God’s will not simply recite to attract fans and females at party. You will condemn me yet you cannot look away when captured in His Gaze from within. I am your friend, a man who loves you as God first love me in preparation for your decision to either spend eternity in His Presence or remanded to Gehenna. That is choice I do not take lightly, nor does God delight at all at any who choose everlasting separation. It is after all our choice of which we desire.

You are no less important than any who have believed upon Him. He is no respecter of persons but loves equally for that is the only way to fair judgment offering all the same avenues of approach to eternal life. Why then will some choose separation? Well I may gesticulate or ruminate in my analysis, but the truth remains that each knows and so each has his/her reason. I am neither elevated or diminished by that choice, for in either Jesus is glorified as He alone provided the choice to each chooser. I love you and want to see where eternity takes us. So, I ask, encourage and hope you choose Life Everlasting found only in Christ Jesus and Grace.’

How then is it natural to react to this decision and reality? Envy, anger, distrust or interest. Again, the choice is yours. Although emotions are indications of a subject’s importance they are any other than value judgments and must be so interpreted. You do not make me feel, nor does my obedience to God’s Word create any emotion in your brain housing group or emotional response. I am simply telling or bringing to memory the truth that all men have been given by God that we are without excuse when He calls an end to this phase of humanity.

I have no presumptions of power or delusions of grandeur, simply the desire to include each of you in the greatest family that has or will ever live, the adopted Family of God. yes, there is power and position, but it is all for the purpose of bringing Glory to the one who gave it. I don’t aspire to anything other than resemblance. My desire that shall be fulfilled and answered according to His Promise is that someday I will truly look like Him. That is more than enough however I get the opportunity to meet and seek those who have not yet made a decision to encourage and edify to that preparative outcome. Additionally, I am the member of God’s Family and that alone perhaps the greatest gift achieved by any is my long felt hope for each of you.

Questioned ritual and faith everlasting. We have entered that time leading to apostacy. What the enemy has termed and intended for evil the Lord will use for the good of clarifying the dividing line between wheat and chaff, believers and forgotten, those choosing or eschewing grace. This has to happen. We are not proselytizing but seeing God preparing for the harvest of saints. There are two possibilities: those who are filled with spirit will leave the worldly-infiltrated church or two those who have not the Spirit’s indwelling seal will leave the church to pursue the Oikumene of the world.

Not my judgment but the prophesy and must happen remaining occurrences in God’s unfolding plan for mankind. This is the most important time in every believer’s life; that time when each of us may choose to fulfill or avoid the purpose for our creation. The Catholic Church must go through a huge division along these lines. For too many centuries the Gospel has been prostituted with doctrine sown into its fabric by Pontifex Maximus, Ashkenazi and Oikumene historians seeking control of the faithful and the tithe given to God’s church. In the United States the line between 501C3 Corporate Church and those filled and following spirit rather that a Mission-Vision-Statement derived from the 1950’s tax revision.

Even now we see serious conversation and clarification of the Word versus ritual and church practice. Scholars for so long have ridden the gunwales of ships tossed about by the waves of new age doctrine and logic not found in God’s Word. They regurgitate church teaching without pausing to wipe their mouths of the vomit of false preaching and blasphemy against the Spirit. We are the Temple Jesus rebuilt in three days, the domicile of God’s Holy Spirit, The Power, that has been denied in the man centered a purpose driven replacement of Corpus Christi. Without Spirit we have no authority, no authorization as Son’s/Daughters of God and no protection against the wiles of the enemy.

The Catholic Church was formed by those who killed the 12 yet they stole lineage by proclaiming them “leaders” of the new amalgam of Judaism, Paganism and One World Church. Those launching this harlot took the thirty coins that lure every Christian in to sin and rebellion. For so long the Government hijacked the Church and still pursues the absolute Empire of Rome, married to the tainted Church of Rome. Even now they see the coming signs of the end of the time of the gentiles and return to God’s Covenant action with Israel and they lust for One World Dominion upon which the son of the devil shall rise. In this nation we have forgotten what drove US from the shores of Europe, this false religion of Corporation, Military and False Prophet. Even now they cannot name their “Jesuit” leader a false representative of Christ for it would cost them world power in so doing. I pray for those who are sealed by spirit within this shell, may they find discernment their guide in the days forward. May they be set apart for God in Christ Jesus by the Power of His Holy Spirit.

Alone or together the objectives must remain His. A Church, the body of Christ, is solely signified by the indwelling of His Holy Spirit. Therefore, each individual, and the corpus of Christ must be aligned in remaining pure as He demands. Those characters in the Bible, even the one who is said to be of God’s own heart departed from their position of favor to chase those things that offend God. It is disturbing to my soul that we would not determine to keep each other in good accounting to that which edifies us as a body, His Body.

All who walk away from God or depart for a season, however short, pay great price in this world and the next. Having missed the events, works and blessing of His Design we are left, often in shambles collecting the pieces of each disaster we assisted in creation. It is not enough to regret the works of yesterday but to refrain from creating more yesterdays of sadness and remorse. The only way to reach the pinnacle of God’s design for us as a body and individually is to be vigilant, diligent, even relentless to focus upon Him as we traverse the path of His delight.

This is my conflict. The internal one with the voices of self, leading me into dangerous, perilous and precipitous moments seeking the subjects of self. How is this possible for a man or a Body of Believers to so foolishly, even decisively pursue those outcomes of our own radical, idolatrous and belligerent will having been so grandly promised the best things in this life and hereafter? What manner of foolishness compels us such? It is nothing but the pride of my own desire to Create from my own wicked perspective and the seed of my own peradventure and internal vein of wicked intent.

The greatest mishaps is taking others with me on the ride to sleepy hollow. Headless and undiscerning, zealously seeking the cup of sensory quenching my identity in Christ Jesus put aside, forgotten or disobediently ignored that I may say I did it my way. Am I saved by Grace or not? If these frequent demonstrations of the guile of living outside promise are the evidence we review then my fate is indetermined. What then have we become now that we have made decision to be set apart for our Holy Groom? What is the oil in my lamp that will lead in the dark of night to His arrival?

Shall I be blind as well as deaf or dumb to the debits and credits of my ledger? Should I say and do whatever pleases this soul neglecting the weight of spirit’s gravity upon this life? What dangers am I willing to venture to test the strength of God’s faithfulness? I say Lord keep me in line especially when I mean to step soundly off in to the dark. Lord I beg you to do for me that which I seem incapable of achieving. I may say that I am yours but unless the acts consistently measure then what are my words but falsehood. Lord don’t let me lose even one or worse yet encourage them through example, word or lack thereof to step off on their own latitudes.

Keep us Holy Father for that is what we truly desire to be ready for you as you’ve directed and intended.

When heaven writes the dream. Stacking wood for a fire that may never come. Preparing for something beyond my own description or explanation, but somehow knowing that it is going to be just fine. I sit close to the waterline watching the striders chase the moonlight as the son rescues the day from night’s kidnapping.

What swirls loft the clouds toward Cielo. The burnt orange and crimson of August’s herald leave their calling card for all to marvel. Soon the frost will gather all to slumber for a season. What peace arrives in the wake of cold, dark winter that nights converge to silence all ambition?

How can life be kept safe, when it is this shepherd’s call to stand with crook and sling? On mountain free and cliffs protected the sloping mount gives breath to those threatened by bullies and believers. Is the retelling of a story corrected, retold in the slanted perspective of the wanton viable for reason’s porting?

We are here. Positioned for the battles and peace agreements as signals of wars won so long ago. Upon the dusty mount the feigners gather in their misunderstanding of power and surety. All crooked skyward to watch the whirlwind and dawn’s panorama. When sleep is lost all will find the gravity of God’s calling.

Working, trying, making way on this road I must walk, knowing that to depart will leave me wandering or stranded. My feet are not always certain as I slip, slide and sometimes backtrack to stay upon the skinny path. All the time the wide road beckons with smiles, evidence and promise of sensory gratification. What allure do these whispers offer?

The fray. It excites, holding the bold promises of transformation. When rivers collide or sand and stone are assaulted by massive seas, erosion tells the future and preserves the past. Our past, mired in watery grave, escaped to tell tales of mile-less journeys across the ledger of time. At the center of change we may embrace, remain aloof or be diminished/destroyed.

What then the future provides that smashes the resolve to remain buried deep in gravel or clay? Fear must be challenged, ignored or defeated to reach plateau or promise beyond resolve of personal power or gravity. The boats of joy and meet the life, death or assimilation in victory as the victims are forgotten. To which heart to you give credence? To which word do you respect and employ? Where are you going in contempt of where you’ve been?

In hand, in tandem to walk fires and furnace of salvation. We lean into the winds of pitch and turn finding friction necessary to maintaining yaw. Setting suns and sails we smile running into the unknown destinations of tomorrow. Absolute freedom in not knowing but assured that it will be better than any life imagined.

Chasing the wind, following dreams, seeking after sundown that which was missed today. Faster it seems round about the rising midnight appeared and sank any hope of remembering yesterday’s failures. The warmth raised the hair on my arms as the morning daffodil leans into the sun. Peace found my heart a welcome domain.

This is not a derivative equation, but the simple pursuits, trials and opportunities that a child finds fascinating. So, complex my unwillingness to simply respond in obedient fervor. These are not new shoes but those which show the age of my ramblings in the wandering desert. For fear of something, I let nothing detain me in the quagmire of my own captive thinking.

What is freedom but the courage to try that which appears impossible, to learn that which is yet discovered or master that which has confounded our attempts? The grace of time and temporary is the ideal of practice and preparation. For into the length of a day that will last eternal we will be launched to do works beyond expectations and current understanding.

What voices do I heed? What troubles and villains fear? What hopes lead me to despair instead of joy? How is difficulty an insult when its power to compel, stretch and sponsor growth is part of our inherent awe? How infrequent my bravery to walk outside the lines of expectation leaving the road ahead unpaved til driven?

There is no good man but God. My heart seeks a reflection of perfect thinking and action, knowing that I will always be six never reaching seven until time yet known though certain promise. In this unshakable reliance I find the pot at the end of rainbow. Filled with posture, protection and the grand chance to face all odds in victory.

All that I may be in correction is thoughtful, prayerful and contrite. I cannot correct the past for in this discipline we think ourselves perfect infallible beyond mistake. When the reality is the mistakes are Life well lived in reaching for the inevitable in transformation of rebirth. I am not the culmination of those things I have poorly done. I am the result of having wronged, stumbled and fallen again instantly seeking forgiveness, correction and the change in God’s Hand and Timing. Implausible it seems, yet more real than my vein’s red blood.

Unsuspected anticipation for the next thing. On some roster unspoken, having signed up for the journey’s end and beginning. To what do these things lead? Certainly not only my own fulfillment but the promises of great and indescribably things hereafter. Wondering how to position ourselves for the next scene we practice and announce our intention, only to be confounded at their morphing.

These are the days of coordinated effort some refer to as waiting. Yet in attendance to the promise and faithful direction of God, what then is delayed that we should classify it tedium? There is no waiting but rather walking in new timing, direction and the Will of His objectives. No more presumption or color characterization in this purpose extranormal by worldly wording. For I am not my own, nor are these objectives, efforts and activities designed to achieve my outcomes.

Free from the stagnant or ambitious pursuit of gold and pleasure customary to the man in the middle. Now the bridge, the twain, in body, mind and treasure. We have found our way, not that all are lost that have not, but they yet understand direction or perhaps the mercy of alternative. Unassuaged, twisted or accommodating to the indifferent or the unusual comfort rides with me. No longer alone, no longer a heart of stone or simply flesh and bone, but now something the universe recognizes in King’s Blood.

Opportune analysis. Thinking that I’m spot on with this one. With relative ease and no expended effort, I have assumed, judged and destroyed a perfectly good relationship for the sake of bragging rights. This is the cost of wielding a rapier unwisely.

No whit, not even a bit to make a fitting toast to accompany my palsied retort. Blunted thoughts and surgical curses brought to bear against those against whom I never had a chance. With regret I lowered jaw and sheltered my pride from demolition.

I pray not the hunter but one who has been spared with no reason. Absolutely shameless. Standing in the wings making up ad lib phrases for a stellar scripting. When I objected, they simply went on with newfound fervor. Delayed by applause no fans present I ran for the backstage portico.

Altogether presumptive, we held up our torches to monster. Seemingly innocent with minds incapable of beauty’s perception we stood in the dark throwing mud at masterpiece. Instantly awkward, we exchanged explanation for our whimsy. To the end we would stand in defense of this hiccup.

To forget what one needs to know in order to be found on the guestlist. We hid for the short time it took us to run for the hills in absolute terror. Finding our breath after what seemed a century, we sucked all the hydrogen and oxygen from the helium.

Leaving weightless we left the event horizon with nothing to say but random noises. Interpolating the primary sequence, we estimated how long recovery would demand of us. Breathing in justice we sought the consequence with no sound idea of accounting.