So brightly arrayed My King and My God. Never knew is something entirely unique, hues beyond understanding even outside the imagination of some finely honed soldiers. To deep wed passion, prayer and tearful experience knees may not withstand. Power and promise is revealed in the person for which I wait.

New Seasons burst forth from the collar relieved. Explosive relief, now sown to grow that which was meant for existence. Never embraced becomes a child’s melodious verses, caught by silent crowd in revelation of dawn beyond any event’s horizon. Displayed for all eyes that would perish in their waiting.

Quest, already best even in my elegant squaller. Cleansed unmended wounds yet already set to healing promise and scarred memory. These are the itchy times of man’s discomfort, caught in unreadiness with no self-righteous protection’s withdrawn. What embrace will show me the peace for which all men clamor?

Feet of burnished bronze equal to my quivering strength to open. Touched and directed to stand asunder in the cast of castaways. It is another gift by reflection this unloving touch by humanity as they cannot bring themselves to be gathered in His Arms Awaiting. So inclined to pause in the welcome of forever.

Too many miles to say what should have already been spoken. Awoken to the smiles, only memories long ago cast aside. Creating universes where my luck is never broken and wishes melt under clouds that warm the afternoon mood.

Too long a dupe. Dependent on pride or an unqualified imagination. Cheered up by thinking of someone else sitting by this poolside, enjoying the rays and spray as children frolic in the shallows. Oh what relief to sorrow that things are this brightly arrayed.

Joy to meet the brigands and the folly, dressed in amber hues to coax the suspect to obedient. What elevated thoughts these expressions of valor and collusion. Sacrificing the nonsense spent on reflection for the stark contrast of changing heart.

Too few the august moments of tepid relief and air hinting of the cinnamon crispness of mornings well-wept. Sweeping under the mind’s firmament any respect for time and chance, relegating all power, passion and prayerful extension to restoration.

Too soon for promised redemption, too late to escape the leeching tides mooring me to quickly to reason and wishes of better luck. Times passed express the futility of fantasy and the small, timid kiss of childlike expression.

Too many steps to a dance well beyond my keeping in times that twist more than waiting ankle. This is always the game of who cuts deepest and first knowing there is no recovery from the cruelty of well equipped anguish.

Joy so plenty, chalice full at last toasting. We see the ghosted and the temple’s grey to remind us that someone was taken from the battle’s field. Whether we liked it or not the maneuvering and candor are displayed for good upon the brows and elbows.

What is Spirit’s pleasure having led this man again to put down the script of young man’s venture. Everlasting it echos in the increasing depth of memory and master. Look again, now in the tempered glass eyes of a man who knows the absolute Joy of decision.

Nothing in reserve, including unforgiveness. Hope for all and plenty to fill the stores, bandage all the sores and open up all the doors on a new horizon of promise of the King’s return. There is nothing to hold us back, no dominion in lordship, no cages born of our own lust no regret from resources ill-directed. These are the days when God’s Name shall be exalted and ours included in the roster of His Family.

What sprouts find the afternoon sun without the waters of life and a programmed understanding of what it is to bear fruit? Where is this home we pursue, what buildings, farms or encampments present themselves with the sound and promise of belonging? How many kind words reserve themselves in memory to acquaint the unknown, to welcome lost friends or to bid encouragement to those lost in the weight of lost struggle?

Where have we gone from whence we may not return? What days are truly lost even those of my worst performance. Very little matters but to honor the gift of grace and never fail to consider the heart and reverent requirements of God. Look I didn’t make anything simply manipulating the elements of a life prepared for me, rearranging the known to accommodate our comfort or need. Perhaps God made me clever and inventive that this might occur?

You will do great things. Simply put, it will be measured as you measure to God. He knows what you can do and will be glorified even if you don’t because my friend He provided you the opportunity, the gifts and the fire only you may provide the obedience. I do not look fondly when I am forced to recognize failure as choice. I detest seeing you deflated as enemies rejoice at your depression. These are the days for great success, we live in the moments of the Holy Spirit’s presence, God with us. Who can leave them wasted or fail to see the significance and possibility?

I don’t own much and that is good for each time I see my barns bursting I find that worry, obligation and covetousness arrive. Why when I have so much do I fail to give more away? There is some oddness of man’s heart when there is too much. I love giving away plenty, yet when there is too much the scarcity mentality comes with it and the beasts of comfort bid me sit a while and rest. All while there is more work to do in this era than ever before and perhaps ever will be. What are we do when the King arrives if we’ve done little to prepare for that glorious arrival?

Time to lay it out, dice it up, label it and know what must go and that which was made to reside. My preparations are not to win some argument or convince myself that what I have done is sufficient but the one chance to right the conversation I most anticipate, the discussion with my Saviour on that Glorious day. I am sorry if I fell short at any man centered expectations, please take it up with the King. I do so apologize in advance for my lost chances at being held in your high regard. It would be nice to get things right.

Can you recover in the sight of self, tricking you, controlling you, making you do things to destroy the gifts God disburses? What nasty little game conjures sponsored pains for seemingly no reason whatsoever? How does the grand play work itself out in the repeat of the same scenario ad infinitum?

Do you dance quickly to the whispers and music played out by swarming sirens and saints? What relief found in the maze, each corner turned a darker secret labored? How many sons and daughters have found their ruin only to be left standing alone at the dais of the self-service? Alone, victoriously tired.

Expelled the dreams and pleasures ventured. Lined up on the mantle of self-resolve seeking solutions seldom found per venture. What beasts have coddled my addled understanding, mollified, vilified in sadness the reasons found in history? Oh calls to greater men than I to find my way through this villainy.

What priests to random goddess sacrifice my mourning? What hope of emerging on the other side of the written realm of folly and missed comprehension? My head pounding for relief yet none in the spells of darkened hearts found reason. I am captured by my own prison though I scream for freedom.

How do wills and wiles join in converging education? Revealing things that gossip spoke and lords and ladies prattled. Brothers, Sisters caught in the folds of their own folly. Playing part handed out in times beyond our review. What path may wind it way to confidence, stealing back what had been pilfered?

This is my own undoing. Never knowing the timing or the words and seldom finding them together upon the same annals of self-reading. Alone to be useful for no one but the King, but in responding to that leading finding the good that would escape my will and power to recall before the throne room.

Tools may not think, reasoning for themselves the best path forward and fools have lesser opportunity. Being both or neither I flounder for ocean bottom with two eyes pointed skyward feeling for rock and sand beneath me. Only finding mud and waters never ending, I lumber on to midnight in forgotten orientation.

The argument for solutions always battles the necessary time and the fear of waiting. Higher the potential impact whether life threatening, simple nuisance or solution to inconvenience, we are in this world governed and ushered through life by fear and time. Most dreams are never fulfilled simply due to the fear of the over reaching it takes to achieve them or never having enough extra time to figure out how to get there.

What if this were not the only illusion in successfully navigating our existence? What if time is simply a construct to get us to finish the race with some manner of intention, knowing that if we had eternity from the git go we would never feel the urge to finish well? What must I be afraid of, especially expecting fully an eternal existence serving God? What manner of fear may this life generate that would cause me angst or worry?

The trap looms as we venture into the known space of our own limited control in the construct of creation and space. The longer we dawdle, somehow expecting to outsmart the maker and find a rabbit hole around the maze the greater the gravity upon a person. As we approach the last go around, the last quarter or a perceived cycle headed toward an end we are forced to demonstrate some manner of logic or abandon.

I have enough, in fact I have always had more than enough to experience life, learn and meet the rare people God has placed in my journeys. I don’t fear an exit, though there are concerns about a proper departure where things are tidy, but generally there is little fear associated with the timing or manner. Certainly one must govern a fear of pain or messy experiment of passing on and take steps to prepare for departure.

What then have time and fear to do with love? Can we never get enough of love to satisfy our quest to be welcomed in this world and remembered? In fact, apparently the greater we try to grab love the more elusive it becomes, slippery fish that expectation. What then is the proper amount of love that should be shown each human? Especially when some have so little they would deny even scraps to the least of us?

I want the time and to control the fear, as it is self conceived to love everyone I meet as much as I may possibly love them. I don’t mean the sexual connotation or definition of love but the appreciation, acknowledgement, acceptance that God wishes us to give each person. I will have the time to edify them in their Creation by God, acknowledging the gifts of purpose they will use to bring Glory to that Making.

What fear is real? Maybe none, but for me that begins with reverence and its duty to respect those things for which I am grateful. I fear God for just as He was the only one to give me life, He has always been the only one who could provide forgiveness, Love, provision and protection.

But that Love in my heart extends beyond my fear of time and the shortness of life. I appreciate what He has planned for me after this, but I love Him so much that just being part of the entire demonstration of His Will has always been more than enough. Therefore, My fears are solely governed by making Him sad by the things I do or don’t, the things I say or don’t, the thoughts I have or don’t and the Love I give or don’t.

I am sorry for being such a simple man that I failed to love you greatly. I am sorry for giving in to some fear of emotional pain that I failed to love you the way He would have bid me. I am sorry for using time as an excuse to not say, do, think and love you the way for which my Father would have been proud. I don’t fear having the time or the skill to do it right, I fear the time I will have to explain to Him why I didn’t when I could.

Are we done? Have we given in to evil or tasks yet beyond our power to achieve? What is the price for taking on things above self? Is it really God’s Will that all will come to the knowledge of the Truth, finding salvation in Jesus? I never could becomes I never can.

If I am to believe upon the impossible tasks of Spirit then why have I placed faith in my own ability to deliver those things solely within His grasp? Worse yet, why have I lost faith in something for which I never could deliver and in the Spirit’s ability to do the impossible?

Is this the hole I have dug for self or must God bring me into self-failure before I may truly believe? Has my hope always been invested in my impermanence? Am I equal to or above God failing to acknowledge His sovereignty and suffering the failure of faith?

I have seen the river’s divide between bride and her waiting Groom. She dawdles and prattles tending her ministries never once listening of awaiting the filling of power, hope and fealty for the King. When will her lamp be full? When will she be urgently waiting for the Trump?

Why would God bring tribulation upon His beloved? Right. Necessary for there is simply no other path to our conversion. He knew, He always knew we would not listen until all options seemingly removed. What does that say of the seemingly faithful, never believing or placing faith in self?

Am I arguing with my own faith, my own success waffling in the self-inflicted variability or have I stuck so soundly to rules and order that I suffer from over control and correction? With all the voices readily available and painfully willing to offer their suggestions of the best way forward has it become near impossible to stand still and allow the discernment of Spirit to lead?

Apparently this self inflicted faith fluctuation is endemic to the times of this final age, as people travel to and fro seeking knowledge. Is the adherence and pressure to anoint to voice of Science to a position above the peace and understanding of God, increasing anxiety and volatility within the human race in general and more specifically in the body Faithful?

The Word counsels believers to wait upon the Lord and patiently seek to “effectively listen” to God’s Holy Spirit as He carries to deeper dimensions within mystery and discernment. However, as a species man has become addicted to immediate cessation of the “unknown” state presently and consistently lacking the foundational fruits of patience required to stay upon the Lord.

What has this agitation and dependence upon “knowledge” produced in this age of overwhelming sources of elaborate dissertation regarding nearly every subject under the stars? First, it has eroded the solid understanding and important footing associated with a trust in only one objective truth source. Secondly, it has moved people away from the garden of God’s consistent word into the currents of “professional” opinion. And finally, it has created a seemingly nervous population, apparently unwilling to wait upon anything.

This convergence of impatient promptings and accepted norms has humans rushing to and demanding answers where often the questions have been improperly framed from outset. For instance, if the truth shall set me free, does this untie the bale-strings allowing any truth, unproven or ill sourced to now become the desires of our salvation seeking hearts? Does everything set us free because all things have the same credibility?

The dangers of these accepted social guidelines almost seem silly when spoken, yet they are very real pressures facing a mankind that no longer has the patience to discern the objectivity and trust associated with the vanilla label of “knowledge” associated with having eaten from the tree of public consumption. Our children no longer debate with intent to test the data and qualify the quality of sources. They are now so gullible or conversely so non-trusting that they simply argue to argue not to achieve the pinnacle of solid decisions based on qualified analysis and constructive debate.

Worse yet they disqualify the Word of God simply because they have been told it is the “Old Tired untrustworthy resource that has led the lemmings of humanity into all historical mistake. When the opposite remains the sole criteria for wisdom, waiting upon, verifying and following the Voice of God to the best decisions available. There is only one truth that sets mankind free and that is that Jesus Christ is the only way, the only Truth and the only source of Salvation from the eternal traps of: sin, death and hell.

Therefore, a culture that is outright dismissive of that singular Truth Source at deliberation’s outset effectively leads humans astray on journey’s first footfall. Believers though less frequent to identify demonstrate a patient reliance upon God’s direction, choosing to declared through considered action the absolute understanding that there is only one fully reliable truth source for humanity, the Voice of God’s Holy Spirit.

The creates a dichotomy that is impossible to overlook: a global lust for information, any information and a remnant subsection of discerning candidates fully intent upon “Good” decisions not simply escaping the anxiety of indecision plaguing today’s overwhelmed. How do you answer those questions most frequently avoided than answered, “What is the Truth that sets you free and is the Bible One Hundred Percent the inerrant/infallible Word of God Almighty”?

How you answer these questions arguably will segregate you from the sweeping tide and rush to find data however relevant to quench humanity’s thirst for tenuous science and relegate you to the increasingly unpopular position of skepticism that demands any/all truths come from God and therefore must be tested no for their “Science” but their agreement with the Word of God.

In silence I may finally hear the voice of God. Left behind the expectations and lures of this world, it is such a joy to hear the call of God’s Holy Spirit. All falls away amazingly the imaginary self would have me cling is left in a random pile at my feet. This is freedom, being able to step out of the masquerade and be what He bids me offer.

There is no preparation but this. Seeking nothing from the list of wants and needs but to hear God’s clear direction to fire, sea, battle and peace. I hear Lord and the only request I lift up is that I am once and forever found obedient. This is the path I am counseled in surrender to find the comfort of doing the will of God as created.

Not sorry that the man I was fell away, as his pursuits were always guided to match the fallen. I was not made to find misery in ignoring or being disobedient to God. For their is no flower in the doomed shrubbery of my defiance, only sadness, weeping and crunched teeth biting upon the desires gone wrong in the poisonous heart of midnight.

I rejoice at your compelling. I dance to see the success in the laughter of what once was misery. Let those fruits grow to abundance that have been watered by His making. Find good Earth for seed and tend the ground with faith in the promises He gave each of us. We are not what we wanted to be but what gloriously emerges as all falls away.