After Two Thousand years in the Era of the Covenant of Grace we still find ourselves embroiled in an all out argument of the LAW. Just as in the time of Moses where God gave the Israelites the Law to show them their sin and need for a savior we continue to believe that the only salvation found for men is in the ink that we press to papyrus, paper or tome. What may be changed in God’s Law to rationalize, deconstruct or transform God’s intention in the mirror He provided to Moses?

At each historic juncture when leverage provided flexibility of law, morals and argument men imposed rapid, well constructed updates, negation or transformation of previous law to infuse tolerance and/or controls necessary to achieving greater Dominion. Always the push to inclusive control by powers and principalities and the men who serve them. Even those who call themselves atheist must acknowledge the obvious drive to broader control of humanity. Seeking Global Conquest.

Since the law is their vehicle we must review the history of law and realize that it has always been left undecided, ambiguous or intentionally vague in one area, the Laws that govern the powerful, rich and conquering elements of humanity. Mankind as commoners lack no such ambiguity as apparently those in power or with ambition to become/remain in power must contain something inherent to the masses which threatens their dynamism and quest for Dominion. It is almost as if the power of law is the only method through which they may achieve their prospective greatness.

What then of Spiritual attenuation to legal understanding? What is that relationship of Sovereignty to Law? Is Freedom governed by the law or is the law merely a defining vehicle attempt description of that which lays outside its control? Are men attempting Godhood by their manipulation of the law, proclaiming themselves as Eve and then Adam, equal to or above God? Does the act of putting together words in a new arrangement convey the authority or right of power that those seeking conquest demand? Well, in a review of man’s history we see precisely that.

Men continue to convince themselves that a well written legal document somehow transfers, duplicates or imperially issues God’s Sovereign Authority to the hands of; Premiers, Popes and Presidents when the true cast of Freedom is only found in the Cornerstones of the Rock of Ages. Investigating the word unalienable provides instant dilemma to the would be Emperor all that eyes may gather, for how may any power recognizing the flux of Dominion seemingly pronounce their paper words; Rocks or Sovereign edicts that withstand all impeding forces?

Popes have to call themselves “deity”, bridge between Sovereign Authority or agents/angels of God Almighty to disingenuously wield the image of unalienable anything. It is all a ruse for the Law could never save only define the need for salvation. We are warned that any man or angel proclaiming an alternate Gospel is not of God and ought be accursed. Yet, throughout history we receive and place trust in these waxen examples of men declaring themselves in charge of that which only God may dispense. The Law is their vehicle in this application. That is why throughout history the laws well define the scope of “common Man” but miserably fail in the constraint of elitism.

For God alone is Sovereign and why they must chip away at the law not having arms long enough to contend with the Almighty.

Nobody wants losses in the column. Wins and strong chins to withstand the volleys of times assault. There conquest is psychically untenable, threatening the moorings of man and measure. Take pleasure in defeat as there in the wisdom lay. Nothing is learned in conquest but greater lust and hunger.

Onboard to end the parade of dissatisfaction. Likened to comedic buffoon, dike splinter or antiseptic to drone out or cauterize the slow steady loneliness of drones and weekenders. What pleasure to be found in folly of individuation, but the welcome forgetfulness and destabilization of psychic plunder.

Devoid of writ, part or station, assigned no lines or closeups, just shrugs of indifference and helpful hands to carry the occasional burden or sop the random tear. Our happiness may not be found selling the dreams and caretakers procedures to fill the moments when death would have been strongly preferred.

The smug, indignantly look and sodden stare of those unwilling for part and tender. Gone are the banquets, medals and stationery, replaced by cardboard cutout and denials trouble. What legion of hope in monogram upon stenciled jacket or embroiled handkerchief. The cravat or black-blotched dance card.

We prayed together for things beyond our own contrivance. Measures and worlds exceeding universality, things that mattered to no one who only matter to anyone. Love kept sweet in letters and poems written for saints and queens. Finding only the lonely standing sideways to glimpse the seaside.

Oh row to rhythms of wild men and blistered hands that have taken life and lover. Drums beating down upon our crucial equipping, leaving us bereft of courtesy or madness. In dreamt tones of harmony and peace we ride the waves seeking slumber or sustenance. Our minds empty our bellies unguarded.

We are not men who fall for lax judgment, tomfoolery or the occasional breech of moral ineptitude. We stand tall against the dark thinking ourselves lashed to the sands of time. Playing roles that make us all heroes to self and splendor. Our coats unkempt we rise to greet the King who already knows us.

Get in our own delightful reason that paints walls with brown sugar and hearts with force and ardor. Stumbling through pathways long and darkened heights we seek windows to wonderland and fall pray to fables, porch swings and slow gentle strolls beyond the lilacs and lilies.

Valley long and mountain deep, granite sticking fingers to the sky welcoming cloud and eagle. Our promise the long walk to pick up and drop off the inconsequential. Daylight our only food, washed down with the rain of tears. The dark still beckons but the Light has forever come to heaven.

Into the inflamed reserve. Sourcing the navigation, supply and focus required to complete. Floating downstream taking in scenery as the tough part has yet to begin. As one anticipates fire, flood or health scare, doubling down on an additional set of lives to repair the unexpected. These are not moments of self recrimination but belief upon revival and miraculous recovery.

Men waiting around to die is the toughest truth to stomach. There is always one last road trip, campaign or voluntary assistance in the tank. What a wonderful understanding when it no longer needs to be about wantonness or entitled myopia. I see a spark, now to bellows to draw the flame from ember. In an instant our hearts embrace the warmth and hope of a growing fire.

We hope even when reason dictates logic and all remaining evidence or argument shouts that there is no there from here. This has never been about my faith unless measuring my love, but about trust in something beyond myself. Someone that sees beyond the curves and plunge of time’s coaster knowing that at some point after the fear resides we will smile in furious splendor.

It is therefore a wondrous adventure when the road ends at shear cliff or ascending wall without climbing gear or experience. Even imagination exceeded I am forced to look within to the imagination beyond my scope and polish. Finding grand pleasure in the testing of my faith by doubt, fear and unbelief. For the lands that grow beyond this generation are product of those things unseen.

Revival is that moment when I know longer count myself and my limits as the end of this or any story. When I expect miracle originating from the hand beyond crevasse. What mercy graces the undernourished with a belly full of peace and silence? Tomorrow exists because it must and even if there were ample expectation that this day would be the last. Joy remains embedded in promise.

Rainbows and Handlebars as the sun beats down on that long Mid Texas line

Promises of Jupiter and Mars when porch swing in Lexington would be just fine

When days are made of seasons and months lead into years

There’s never enough light to chase away the dark that hides those lonesome fears

Windshields and daydreams and all the fine print you never saw

Hand holding enterprise, drawn out fights so clearly over, before you could ever draw

When dreams amount to nothing and nothing ever comes too late to think of anything but everything you want. They tell you not to reach too far for gold and heaven’s door But everything seems so far away when you’re prostrate on the floor. The Floors too flat and the world too round to reach the other side and the heaven’s seem too far away when the door’s just inches wide. He gave us wings to fly away but I cannot find the sky, everything seems impossible and I can’t begin to understand why. 

Nightmares and silhouettes are shadows of all that’s real

I tried to borrow but all I ever got I cleverly had to steal

Lunchrooms and hidden hopes and the things they sold you as a child

Scratching out a rood good living when you’re just too meek and mild

A Patron Saint and fables begin to seem the same, found out too late if it’s not a date then no one is to blame. The boot black and a candle the waxen hope of shame, Grabbing on to something that smells just like fortune’s wish and freedom’s fame. A leaf with spots and dogs with stripes and flags with just a star,It’s all too close to reason and beyond each distant star. The ashen doubt and broken heart that leaves where you are, you shot too far and swung too hard to ever think of reaching par. But part of heaven’s window is believing in the bride, too pretty to deserve her too good I must confide. But answers seldom show themselves and riddles love to tease. Wisdom often whispers in the cold late Autumn breeze. When the humility first hits you it knocks you to your knees and you may have lost the will to win but never lost your keys. Locks and secret windows you find them when you hide Nothing feels like winning until you lose your pride.

Mystery, fog, love and flowers. Days in brightest morn, rain, sideways in the windy afternoon. Welcoming birds desperate for me to answer or for once perhaps listen. Streetcars, slow meandering walks admiring flowers on the lower mountains.

Soft sand, sun washed sandals threatening to split. Always and never. Repaired, no longer simply existing to meet deadlines and expectations, but dreams. Far off rivers threatening to crash and crush the stones below. Admiring simply out of wonder.

Forgotten pathways. Praising in silent worship. Trees standing guard as my patience dwindles and the stars call me so slumber. Dirt, that moist greeting of forest floor, repels the weights and bundles that this world wants for me to carry.

hand rails and desert dwellings, cactus and naked climbs hardened bright-red in baking summer. Snow holding on to memories of Winter, far above the Eagles circle, somehow knowing that there will come another tomorrow. Fresh roasted pine and sandstone wait.

Some will worry never listening nor caring for the voice in the calm white distance. Ride the range, embracing loneliness as treasure that you know will never leave you. Avoiding idle thoughts of mastery and learned struggles that taught us navigation and recovery.

Is there a late stage plan you wish to employ. Another chapter yet finished begging for ink on pages. The days of solemn anchor. Nearby a tiny kitten wanders if you’d feed or give him safety and place to sleep. Yesterday was my best yet, a slow steady string of walks by fire.

The Cool, quiet and unmoving madness of chaos given up for a moment. Planning catastrophe by daybreak. Soldering-iron eyes melding and molding each moment in alabaster, nightmare and orderly procession. Waiting for the bell to toll and wind to call.

Just as with the passing or change of seasons there comes an obvious day that indicates the time for change is approaching. America is at the precipice we have long feared or perhaps expected and longed for, a point where change becomes possible. Not the radical de-formative transformation of new-world or new-age thinking but the healthy recollection and instrumentation of ideas that had fallen from popularity.

Our Enemies read U.S., realizing while we were eager for national coma that our strength and power came from hair untouched of the goodness God gave U.S. to overcome our enemies. We dangerously locked away and over generations forgot those things that were not simply conducive to our greatness but essential for blossom. We were designed for this dormant time beneath the permafrost of our reluctant capitulation to our Creation. America was great only and simply because of God’s Goodness.

It is not yet determined except in the heart of the faithful that this change shall arrive without obstruction. Most still follow the fears God didn’t give U.S., apologizing for their rationality found in the relationship with Sovereignty. Though the immature awakening of those who feel it necessary to hide from bold proclamation. These days many are in fact receiving and displaying the Power and fluidity of Speaking Boldly in the Gospel of Truth to a world that is hungry to listen. The One who sees time as one completed line is timely indication that it indeed has been finished.

That does not preclude the predicted and evident struggles within the body for which are reluctant in disbursing the prophetic solution. You see we forgot so long ago that our enemy watches and sets obstruction endemic to our own doubt and proclivity to sinful behavior. However focus upon self though helpful in identifying trespasses against God and Man, helps U.S. little when searching for applicable solutions. Leaving U.S. empty when seeking good relations with the Family of God.

Argument serves ego and self. Yes, investigation and debate may be helpful in most worldly disciplines, however, in the Church it does little to coalesce and much more to divide, conquer and set up barriers to union that have lasted generations. As Pastor the greatest part that I may play is maintaining target and focus. The sheep must not fight over disagreement, superior intellect, legalism or station. These are worldly pursuits that inhibit spiritual achievement and just as contest in marriage will spoil the soup on your neighbors table as well as your own.

Yes, there is a right idea, perhaps infinitely deeper than we now regard to the bounty of scriptural lesson, guide and maturity. However, that should be pursued through Love without the expense of worldly quest for dominion in the body. We must primarily and continuously remain prayerfully in the Spirit, immediately redirecting any wins of argument to the detrimental losses of allowing arguments won to guide the formation of Brotherly Love. Our will to be right must be surrendered daily to sponsor the growth of faithfulness, Trust and sharpen each saint not by scouring but by loving Kindness. Winning is only everything here.

The Enemy receives his due and has been very effective once entering the church through Rome in creating dissenting idea, theory and ego power eloquence of those of strong/weak character to cure their psychological deficiencies at the expense of Church position and Denomination division of Christianity. I contend that there are no denominations in all the descriptions of heaven because they are entirely an Idea of Earth dwellers and dominion. We must arise from our assistance of God’s Enemies in this struggle and surrender to the Love and Fullness of Christ God says are the unique characteristics of Christ’s Body. Jesus never fought with His Father, Brothers, Disciples or spirit and although he was angered to action over hypocrisy and the prostitution of His Father’s Temple he never argued points in the Word instead using calmness, parable and prayer to build lasting dependence in the Body.

Endless Grace, Authority and patience in the Ministry of Christ Jesus through the indwelling Spirit of God. This is the only way I am ever able to point someone to the Cross where they might by choice and God’s Foreknowledge make their humble request for salvation, adoption and everlasting Life. All know the Truth that is God.

Roman’s one makes me rejoice in this statement for although we know that many are predestined before time began to be with Christ, God in His infinite understanding and love makes it clear that all have the ability to listen to the Holy Spirit. That means there is a moment or a time when they could obey which gives me hope for all mankind.

Yes, it is true that many will fail to acknowledge the God that they know is there and be turned to their vain imagination to recreate the world in their own image, mistakenly turning down the gift of Grace. This is another opportunity where those who do not know Christ Jesus and are disobedient to God may turn from their wickedness and find Grace. Another moment, I would so love to see it never wasted.

This is the opportunity to know the Spirit, to be indwelt and filled with Power, Purpose, adopted into the Family of the Most High God. The moment or period where we may listen to God and not quench (throw a cold bucket of water upon the Fire Baptism by the Spirit). Another opportunity prayerfully not squandered we must struggle with our longing for the world and humbly place ourselves grateful, filled with spirit and truth before the Throne of God.

This opportunity passed we are then thrown into our sin with a darkened lust and heart. Now the danger has closed in about the disobedient man or woman. Leaving them myopically focused on the quest to maximize their satisfactory sin. A brief window before being fully turned over to a reprobate mind wanting all to join us in our sin of choice that we may not face the conviction of sin, the anguish of the soul and see all fall prey to the lusts of eye, pride and flesh.

Yet in my heart of hearts there must be those who recognize God and eschew or stiff arm the call to sin instead wisely choosing the skinny path, choosing Life everlasting, forgiveness, cleansing, freedom and repair to our relationship with God Almighty. That is God’s Will for creation as I understand it in His Word, Prayer and conviction by the Holy Spirit. He loves all equally, yet knows that most will not stop to think before acting in blasphemy to the Spirit. In effect sealing themselves away from the Grace that would ignite them for eternity with God.

Gunwale grip, adjusting my eyes to get sight of land, knowing fully that a swim with the sharks may be fatal. Don’t have the desire to be mean, but sometimes you catch yourself on the edge of something different. What they do is not about you but about their own dances with the daylight.

Coaxing the boat to shore, I kid myself I am ready for more, but fully remembering how many times the rocks have caught us. A bit off balance and sad that things don’t often land upright, though the doldrums won’t last forever and we will find our way to brighter beaches. Ready for the sand.

Seeking summertime and the lazy days of August have taught us to stop, reflect and remember, even those distemper filled moments that left us ill engaged. Certainly would be nice to never argue again, however in this line of service they really want to figure it out and they are eager for scalps.

Easily upset a signal of guilt or unsettled conscience. The learning is never one way and fashionable for every one at the party. Some will refrain from discussion and robustly seek escape from the topic, but the price of conviction is either learning leading to change or avoidance leading to blame.

So precise the Lord’s intervention in moments where more words would have been less. The impact of emotion sets loose the arrows which should have remained in quiver. The tongue eager for opportunity loves to bite the chocolate as if it detests sugar, honey or the docility of indifference.

It is all okay especially when someone is seeking to revise their statements to provide an avenue or relief from the duty to be amenable. If we wound when we could have cooperated it sets in motion the removal of percentages. Leaving us free from contemplation or expectation of things turning fruitful.

These are all choices that demonstrate internal topography and declaration for the things of which we have not been made ready or decided along the way we didn’t want the moment. No one who can face the duty of pregnancy leading to the service of another life when they have an iron architect.

I will leave to God’s will rather than kill the rabbit for showing its pink nose too early. I am no longer afraid of words though they often sting the backside of baby’s history, they so often to lead to a mutually beneficial resolution that could have been cancelled by manipulation or the fear of failure.

It is right to be pleasant and skirt the desire to be hurtful. Many cannot look upon themselves in the mirror of their casting and the closest of friends will bury you in turf to find their way to not being responsible for episode. It’s okay in this safe space of being accountable for all my dysfunction.

For when the horizon is met I find that the man present in its pleasure looks so different than that man who ventured. It is okay to be wrong, finding a new song that doesn’t smell of either passion or depression. I seek opportunities, Divine ones in the blessings of today’s sounding measure.

Opportunities seized every ripened fruit squeezed, enlightened by freedom and seeing so far receiving the friendly waves as I leaped from my car. A bundle of avenues as I stray from the path not knowing which boulevard not village idiot dispensing false wrath. The mirth and the giggle resume at the tape, I tuck in my shirt tale and the edge of my cape. Note the extended monologue as evil seeks to escape. French fries in the oil and the cheese in the crepe.

A rye simple grin displayed above my false chin, as poets cry, great lovers try to write down the sonnet they just learned to play. Not a thing of great works, more a tale of two jerks, equipped to be stunning but stumble while running to wear our dessert on our best pressed blouse. Mouse and an elephant playing a role golf without clubs, a ball, tee or hole. Run to the cops so proud we just stole, the harmony, the blossoms and the bells and the ball so hot in the Summer just waiting for fall. Trying too hard to roll when I fall.

Just another even tide ten thousand miles from no where. With a mess of well rehearsed dreams and dinner plans, laying out schematics for fitness and tans to catch while we would and have while eating from cans. The beach and the playa are made of up of sands. To establish nothing from the midst of masterpiece and find wisdom secured in the depths of righteous pains. Dousing stains in soda and bicarbonate sauce we wanted the victory but accounted the loss trying so hard to establish to queen, king and boss.

Finely defining the moments of elation and dance too happy to find the time for romance to distant the scarcity to make our advance, stick to the water as it will be hotter than June on the moon and our hunger too soon. We ate when we wanted and drank really fast very little talent as we sought out the cast the world just our oyster our boat without mast. Imaginary distance too small to detail we belly flopped our dive and hung out on the swale took out the parsley and replaced it will Kale. The tell of the tape and reading the scale. Which was deliverer out beyond distant pale?

Replaced the fork with seasoned spoon a prayer for the mighty and red booted dragoon a day or two journey but leaving too soon we ran from the demons, the sounds and dark tune. As if someone chased us alone in our fear, hadn’t come up for air or to comb out our hair but just to be fair the fabled folk tales of childhood capture aptly the common sense and lock it up for Tuesday when Sunday long needed. Thick is the lawn when watered and seeded. A false of land when improperly deeded. Delight in the fight and the days leading to night hard to see from history through the lens with short sight. We that it moving comedy to suffer this plight.

Clarity of heart, cleansed by unmet expectations and the dangers of self protection. The Learning inevitable unless escape is your diversion. The host is challenged, seeking re-calibration to systems monitored. It is good to give things time and the dime well spent even when they were never intended to match lifted prayer. For we seldom know the way from here to there. Whether misdirection or path well tamped, poorly lamped and bit too cramped.

The Light of the World calls the shy to stand boldly, counted by the loud crowed in the middle of town central. Smiling while they point out the cracks, chips and dings, happy in the learning it brings, please as punch that the salt and light has made a Godly sort of things. There are always two perspectives even a path well traveled must be reviewed or renewed if we wish to use it for travels home. Which flower blooms in darkness or left in the shadows?

Mistakes are my finest art, making sense in all that falls apart, a brand new chart to catalogue the winding path to holiness, when a straight line should have been the path. Led by fear, pulled by bended ear, a lassoed neck, head and rear, directions were never given. There must awards for the most coin used, the worst path taken using all the wrong words and skills for those are my techniques mastered. Filled flesh waiting to be emptied Spirit.

Perfect timing, evidence of the Kings hand upon the sands of time. No longer chomping on bit but free to speak a tempered mind and take alternate route pointed out by the stout and wise. It is the size of the dog in the fight and what he ate last night that will win. Never should have failed so big, but small wins are still so pleasant it is hard to focus upon misgivings. We were once the Lords of air and a dream so fair sparking sweet the random tare, leaving bold and fresh to crimson kernels of hard ripened pomegranate husk and seed.

Standing so assured that we will never again face these dragons that rent our souls, but being honest in matured hearts that dances will be stepped, songs warbled and cases made for relinquishing or retiring to desert chambers. Yet here is the old age earned, the stories written and prime hearts remembered, in loss and infrequent victory. The hope remaining hidden in the small gift of days forgotten or cherished as we find our way to the better parts, where hearts are grown to healthy things, wings given and memories never made to rust.