Why do we crave peace?  Is there some central understanding among men that at some point all men wish to set down their arms, cease argument and live normally without perceived threat or air of danger?  Are there actual, literal forces at work attempting to inhibit this joint arrival at an armistice of sorts?  What would such a troop gain from ensuing chaos, continued division, interruption of normalcy or a return to balance in humanity?  And if there are no such forces then why is peace so elusive to us all?  If we crave it so why don’t we work toward it more, seek it with all of our hearts, fiber and formis mentis universita, a collective form of thinking determined beyond all calamity to achieve some lasting peace in the world?

Perhaps, we don’t really want and rather just discuss it as a good form of conversation to seem relevant in the mainstream discussion.  I mean no one wants a warmonger, so appear as opposite we must consistently refer to this illusion or peace to fit into the common stream of thought pursuance.  But maybe we don’t want peace, maybe we want the calamity, the excitement of the chaos, the unknown, undetermined, Wild West stagecoach robbing, sky is falling mentality that gives those who would be king an upper hand?  I mean you cannot take power or keep things out of balance without the injection of inconsistency.  What if we really don’t want peace and that is why we never see the components of its active pursuance on the planet?

Maybe it is beyond our scope of achievement.  The nirvana, beyond the horizon, unreacheable star that remains an ideal that always remains an inch beyond grasp.  What if we are at our core people who crave to be in some manner of disarray and quibble because like Momma said, “Don’t mind him he just doesn’t know any better”?  Are we that frail, that simplistic, that under evolved that we can only imagine peace never achieve that lasting rest in social discourse and agreement?  Really that seems a bit hopeless, but after all it is a possibility.

What if there are components within the paradigm who would lose their authority if peace were to be achieved?  No one needs to spend billions of dollars on standing armies as long as there are no dangerous foes waiting to land upon your shores or show up on your door step.  What if they know without doubt that if peace were to rule the day then their lustful quest for conquer of the innocent and authority would cease to exist?  What if the hopeless pursuit of disagreement at any cost is their objective as this is the state of affairs that perpetuates said authority?  Could there be people that evil who would resist peace as a means to maintain dominance?  It is hard for a peaceful man to comprehend that lane of thinking, to imagine someone so determined to have power that they would see all others cast into the raging seas of violent turbulence to further its establishment.  Perhaps, it is just as hard for them to negotiate around the islands of a man pent upon living in harmony with the world around him, even to the point of voluntarily giving up some authority.

Maybe it just isn’t time?  Did you ever stop to think that some seeds have been planted with a long term germination intended?  What if we crave peace, because the Prince of Peace is the only thing that can bring that lasting peace?  What if it is an encoded yearning for the righteous order that will only come when Jesus arrives for rule and reign, setting all things in their natural intention?  No, that can’t be it, you are a bit off your rocker so to say, perhaps you should slide back in, reseating your self?  Peace is something we crave, if we don’t crave it then most of us agree that there is in fact some error in our thinking.  If we want it so, cannot achieve it no matter the effort or cost and cannot seem to get it out of our minds as the pinnacle achievement for humanity, then we must reasonably conclude that it is a thing of a hopeful future.  What is hope?  Hope is belief in things yet to pass, yet to be seen, which is by definition “Faith”.  Faith in what, man’s apparent incapacity to stop lying, cheating, beating, deceiving, enslaving or killing his fellow man?  No, faith in something beyond us that will provide the answer to the unanswerable question that remains upon our tongue at the edge of our minds, how do we find that peace we all crave.  My peace surpasses worldly understanding because it is the promised peace of God that is given me for the asking, by God.  If you want peace, find it with God.  In Jesus’ Name.

He loved them enough, enough to leave heaven and make the journey into the caustic daydream that he might offer a sacrifice grand enough to be enough for all was owed and none might pay.  It is not enough for me to try to live a life that meets the measure of my own good understanding.  If that were enough then none of this would have ever been relevant and wouldn’t now be struggling with our growing or ebbing faith.  This play in which we’ve been cast was written and designed by much greater thought than yours or mine.  These rules are the plans of God and therefore the payments, challenges, worthiness and gifts follow his understanding, not mine.  Try as I might I cannot imagine men giving up a perfectly lived life that all people might have the choice to live forever, be redeemed to the Creator and live their lives now free from the burden of sin.  Those are thoughts entertained by a greater mind than mine.

Since I was never able to be enough, being enough just doesn’t matter.  For this thing this grand redemption is something planned, executed and extended as a gift by the Hand that made us.  Therefore, for simplicity’s sake it is enough simply to say that His sacrifice was enough and in so doing acquiesce to the guidelines presented.  And in so doing understand that this gift is something that continues to grow, replenish, provide and preserve each of us in our journey to splendor.  It is enough to say, it’s okay Lord I believe.

What pressure remains to a man who has already relented to reason, purpose and direction?  What journeys are too long, arduous or intolerable within the Hand of God?  How many days must I spend in conquest, defeat or mediocrity to make this life worth the living, when living it is the meaning for which I have been selected?  It is enough to enjoy it enough because without the price having been paid in my stead, it would be all that I ever would have.  So the promise of eternity is more than enough to make up for the sadness of not being rich enough, charming enough or talented enough, to become someone who might be remembered in the annals of humanity.  For I meant enough to God that He sent His Son who was more than enough to pay the debt which I would never have had enough to pay.  Jesus, More than enough for me.  Amen.

Where is my forgiveness found?  Did I find it that moment when the child looked into my eyes, embarrassed, ashamed offering apology?  Was I born with it, a youngster capable of letting go of each trespass, easily suffering no lasting implication?  Maybe, it was the day she came back and apologized for straying, having learned on the road the importance and rarity of a man who will stand beside you?  Perhaps, it was the day my Father nearly knocked me out or tore my hide so fiercely because of his drunken rage that I knew some were just given to crazy?  All these taught me the meaning of its riches, my forgiveness was found the day that the Lord forgave me for the horrible man I had become because of these unfortunate experiences.  That was the same time I learned about true, unconditional love, that we all talk about but few understand.  He loved me completely at my worst possible moment, forgiving me where I stood with no requirement but my own willingness to admit my circumstance and ask for help.

How then should I approach the world, having seen such fine example?  Should I rage at their misgivings, holding them to account for every misstep, mistake or encroachment?  Shall I harbor resentment when I know they possess neither the understanding nor insight necessary to awareness?  Shall I disbar them from my organization, finding them unworthy of my approval?  Shall I hate them for standing there watching me in desperate straights only seeing what this world has conditioned them to believe?  At what point do I become responsible for my own actions, manicuring my own yard, tending my own accounts, guarding my own children from the dangers that ought be expected?  To what responsibility do I hold my own willingness to forgive those who have offended?  Can I forgive the Clinton’s or must I hold them in contempt, this somehow pronouncing some manner of judgment over their atrocities?  What does it mean for a man to forgive his enemies?  Is this an easy thing?  Perhaps, impossible.  But isn’t that the expectation to which I am accountable?

Forgiveness is the key to contentment.  The grudges I hold, hold me back.  The angers I compartmentalize turn into plots for revenge and fester.  The forgiveness I withhold bars the blessings of God from flowing through me.  I love you and in so doing must forgive what you’ve done.  That doesn’t mean that I must remain in good company with you if you are unrepentant and believe it acceptable to carelessly harm those around you, but you have been forgiven for that is the power of Christ.  The Holy Spirit gives us understanding beyond our mortal perspective, that we might see that a person who today does not see his misery, may by throwing that rock at my back, tomorrow surrender to Christ.  It is an impossible thing to men to forgive enemies, but a normal thing in the Kingdom of God.  They do not know.  I pray that they will know and that they too will be forgiven as I was forgiven on that faithful day of my awakening.  For now I pray that maybe they see God’s Face in the wake of my forgiveness.  That is the greatest thing that I will have ever done.  In Jesus’ Name.

Does it matter that it matters?  Shouldn’t we be removed, isolated, disengaged, uncaring, unresponsive, untouched by those around us, their opinions feelings and moods?  If this is my planet and I am the captain of my ship, who cares naught for the crew, for they just be hired hands.  Acceptable to simply forget the one person who has fallen from the ranks or the two people to whom I owed forgiveness and apology or is there some internal obligation that requires it is consequential, what they think?  Does it have to matter?  Is it possible for each of us to go our own way, blinding and silencing ourselves to the abominations and plights of the world around us?  Is that okay to just live your way and if something pleases or displeases it is collected or discarded based upon that criteria?  How do we view the man who cares about them all?  Just a fool perhaps to be pitied for caring he ought turn casual eye?

This thing hurts, this life.  It hurts to see everyone going through it alone, tired, hungry, cold, disenfranchised with nothing but a sad story of victimization that earns you nothing but a handful of change.  What a predicament when we first become disengaged from humanity.  Not only those who are the outsiders but the insiders themselves, who must develop, accept and project a tapestry of understanding upon the world that they see the haves and have nots and avoid or engage upon that understanding.  Yes, their stories are atrocious, they are difficult to ingest and frankly easy to sidestep, ignore and forget while set about more important things, the things of “my” day.  But isn’t that even more evidence that each meeting is a test of my own perspective?  For if I view them nuisance, then I have made a discerning judgment based upon my need cylinder that places my time, assets and treasure and schedule above those things which God calls precious?

They stink.  Yes, and so do I, it is just that I have fresh water, soap and even a hose if necessary to wash from me the troubles and perspiration of my walk in this world.  I know what it takes to be a pleaser of men, that I might be classified as a Have and find myself acceptable, relevant, passing muster for every occasion.  What if I were to forgo my hygienic rituals for several days or even a week?  Oh, then I risk becoming unpleasing to the masses, avoidable, inconsistent with public norms.  What if I took every homeless person, gave them a shower and a meal at the beginning of each day.  Would they then become relevant or remain expendable to our imaginations?

Each of us was crafted by God.  Some are having a harder time reckoning that fact than perhaps I have experienced, but all are important to Him.  Perhaps the next person I fail to ignore, truly loving them as God intended me, might find in himself the spark to reach perfect understanding.  Will I take the risk?  Will I pay the price of forgetting my own endless appetites for gratification, necessary to taking care of someone else simply out of obedience to a holy and righteous God who first saved me?  I don’t know folks,  I hear so many complaints about homeless people in every city but see so few actually trying to do something about the problem of their disengagement from the body public.  Perhaps no one cares or no one is watching and I will not be held accountable for the sheep I have ignored for my own purposes.  Ah, but I know different.  I serve a God who sees all, accounts for all and will be requiring of me an explanation for what I have done with the assets given me.  Does it matter that it matters?  Well each of us must answer that question from our own hearts.  In Jesus’ Name.

The open accessible book is easy to chastise, critique or pull out in use to demonstrate hypocrisy, disbelief or pride.  It is known and cannot escape the reasoned analysis any who have read its opened pages.  But there is power in transparency, for a man with Jesus written on his heart, on the binding of his autobiography and on his hat is a man who may not be mistaken for anything other than who he really is.  Do we crave that transparency in our lives, our work, play and government?  For that is the only true method of accountability, that men know who you are what you have done and are doing in and out of the public eye.  This book is here for you to read, like it or not you have the authority to choose to like it, ignore or attack.

I don’t want to escape for that attempt is clear indication of lacking contentment in what the Lord has assigned for my life.  I am accountable for my actions, steadfast in my belief and ready to love, not just as a reward for deed or an attempt to gain some pleasure, but because I truly do love you.  Many mistakes I’ve made and continue to ascribe to the columns of my self inscribed history, but these are not the troubled mistakes of a desperate man who would hide them in shame or reason.  These are the mistakes of a man who knows he is forgiven and is called to be holy even as my Maker bids me be like him in holiness.  Yes, I will falter, fail, stumble, mumble and whine, but it is what I do next and the truth that you see in my life that is truly important.  For if I am ambassador of Christ then my actions on the planet before men are the only things that matter to that role.  Therefore look upon me, you will find fault, you will find frailty, yes you will find all these things and more, ignorance, pride, misunderstanding, envy and pride.  What you will not find is a man who either wishes to explain these things away or hide them from your vision.  I am what I am, and that is sufficient, because God sees all, I might as well stay consistent with that understanding.

It is all worth something.  Read the book, love the book, hate the book throw the book, it is all done in choice.  My life is open to viewing and I know and understand all that this means.  Thank you Lord for allowing me to embrace transparency in its truest form.  I love you and praise you with all that I am.  In Jesus’ Name.

Within this heart, certainly just a chemical pump, made for maintenance, regulation, delivery and recovery.  Why then does it matter so when considering those things which reside at the center of our relationship to the universe, to God and each other?  Does the heart have memory?  It appears there are no such capabilities attached to its physiognomy.  Does it have depth, perhaps as a unique, specially crafted device for maintaining the primary plasma?  Why then do we assign to this organ the romantic or credible allegiance to God, Family and Country?

The head thinks yet the heart feels.  Aren’t those both functions of the head?  I mean all electro chemical impulses, memories and response are from the brain, sent through the central nervous system.  Why would these be assigned to the heart for what appears to be the history of mankind?  Because there is something there that is not of logic, not of simple thought or comprehension.  That spot where idea passes some intangible boundary to become belief and then further to increase in to dependence and faith.  We do not look to a man who has character and courage as a man of “head” but a man of “heart”.  Because at the center of our chest resides the core of who we are the blood pumping oxygen regulating, cell energizing mechanism that makes us who we are?  I don’t just simply think therefore I am, my thoughts Matter, therefore I am.

In this moment I resemble my Maker.  Knowing that although it is always important to be a thinking man with ideas, reasoning and wisdom, it is also equally, perhaps of greater importance to be a man of Faith, without which it is impossible to please God.  Father, this thing is complicated and I count my joys that I have been able to face diverse temptations, lusts, angers, envies and fears that patience has been employed which left to do its good work will at some point lead to perfection.  I understand the difficulties of that task that you face with me and I am sorry for the troubles you will inevitably encounter with this nearly impenetrable cranium.  But Lord you have my Heart, that has always been open and I believe it is there that you reside.  For I know you, not idyllically, not ideologically, not conceptually, but know you for the awesome Father God that you have always been, are and will always be.  My Heart tells me it’s true and that is good enough for me.  In Jesus’ Name I thank you for sparing me for whatever purpose it is you have before me.

No confusion in the moment where the Lord and you meet and he says clearly it is not yet your time son.  No hesitation you fight, stick your finger in your wound and run toward battle, knowing if the Lord has left you here then he will certainly preserve you through the storm.  It rages, your head feels like it will rupture from the pressure, but somehow you breathe, take a moment, wipe the sweat and blood from your brow and act.  That is the moment of disambiguation, where you have traveled beyond event horizon and there are no lies, only truth and that truth is that God wants you to survive.

You thought that you couldn’t get any funnier looking, but then you have to laugh and a young Mexican girls runs to her Mother’s skirt in fear having seen your outstanding condition.  Bloodied, battered, scrape, scratched and swollen you must appear a gruesome sight, but you are still alive and that makes only laugh harder when the little girl points to you.  Defenders of life, we are not always pretty, but to see out hearts as God sees you would think again.  How they see you and who you really are may be two different things, only one of which truly matters.

They loved me and many tried their best to care for their Brother.  Though I was beyond reach and communication, I felt their mighty prayers, bidding me stand up and fight.  So I stood and cried out to Jesus, running in his strength for mine had gone, still focusing on the fact that none of these creatures can hurt us as the Word clearly says.  So it was the promise that preserved me.  The firm stand in His righteous promise to cover me, provide for me and protect me.  Sure, He may allow the enemy’s fiery darts to reach my flesh, but that too is for larger purpose, a purpose that may yet be seen, oh but my growth, my faith, my testimony they have been changed by that interaction.  It is never me who fights, I overcome, I depend, I stand in courage knowing that the Lord fights for me and will deliver us from our trials.  I love you Lord and will follow you even to the shadow of the valley of death, if that is where you bid us go.  In Jesus’ Holy Name.

How do I do nothing?  It seems an impossible thing, to stand bye while that monster on the wall marks time as metronome marks the four four of a Gershwin tune.  Nothing!, Really, I am to simply watch while my eye twitches and my hands quiver admonishing my feet for beginning to walk without command.  Oh, this has got to end, this agony, but how can doing nothing be such burden, such trial?  I know people on their couches that crave this thing, this nothing, gazing slumberly at a energized rectangle, hypnotic, filled with pleasures, history and words they would have you remember.  Not for me this nothing, but as the Lord bids, his will be done.

Doing nothing, seems an irony, for one action and the other the lack thereof.  But, it is a psychological nothing to which I am referring, doing nothing meant to bring about a result tailored to my own desires for completion.  Meaning, this nothing is not doing the something that I desperately want to do to evoke the other something that I wish to turn out right.  Letting go is the first step of a control or willfully disobedient man of God, after letting go an prized moment of voluntary surrender, the true toughness begins.  For at this point when God bids us stay in Jerusalem or go to Jerusalem we understand that the something that needs to be done is the something for which he has commanded us WAIT.  What you are telling me that doing nothing and waiting are one in the same.  Yes, I am.

There are so many times that I have embarked on travels ill advised or left situations meant to teach me the next component of my training simply because I could not tolerate the frustration of not being in charge of the whole thing and being incapable of waiting upon God.  Especially in tough circumstance this is vital, as the Lord is the one who delivers and sometimes if we try and save ourselves we will do unnecessary or further damage that need not occur.  The Lord is my shepherd, which means me being the sheep of his flock I go when he says to go and stay when and where he tells me to stay.  Doing nothing ought to be something with which I am entirely comfortable.  The problem is that it isn’t, entirely comfortable that is.  In fact, it still drives me up a wall.  Standing still for an accomplished man, a doer, a people pleaser, a manipulative man with a fixer mentality is tantamount to failure.  And logic would dictate in worldly terms none of us wants to be known failure so doing something, anything, even the imprudent thing is better than failing immeasureably.  The complication and learning is that waiting upon God is the Best thing that can be done as always indicated by the results of that discipline.

So doing nothing it is and learning to unclench my teeth and untwist my toes and take a big long breath is exactly what I am going to do, for the Lord is in charge and He knows best.  In Jesus’ Name I rest and wait for the proper time to act.

Polished wonderlands, avatar bodies of steel and ironed flesh, memories reprogrammed for the purpose of seeing utopia on Mars, or Sweden or perched in pendulum at Hilton’s L4.  It’s okay they’re just forgotten family, no need to pay heed to their apoplectic pleas for nicety and nurture.  This is the drome, the dome the gathering of tremendous accolade and proportion within which you too may compete for the fate of your brethren.  Snapshots of old tomes reflecting the placating coliseum of empire where innocence was lost or burned for the delight of masses craving, more.  We’ve got no need to remember for in the past lay the failed dreams of yesteryear, forgotten, buried deep, non recyclable rubbish.  Hardened maidens designed for battle, resistance and rebellion dissolve all reflection upon the blessings of motherhood and fealty to good man.

I look to the dream for what it does not possess.  It is full of domination by violence, conquest at means that will matter not as time dwindles memory, forgotten norms of innocence nor investment for sake of others and Spirituality not emanating from self.  Certainly I am as my Fathers before, a warrior, basking in my name echoing against the clouds as my fans clamor for glimpses, sweat and treasure.  What need have I for imagination?  It has all been designed before me with naught but for me to part the curtain and take my honored call, bowing for obeisance in the normalcy of nothingness. Food grown, crops harvested, land tended, water cleansed and captured or children reared, these are jobs for those who have no fancy, no acclaim, no worth in the systems of neon and flame.  What matter have I for feelings, especially my own, for all things will be given or taken by blade, torn, severed or shackled for the purposes of pleasure?

The device, oh the grand pixelated master, beckoning never rest for the price of entertainment and service to digital experience.  When will they convert me to signal that I might live in the blessed dream, sucked from sadness of green, rock and ocean to the limitless horizons of ions, photons and flux?  Wearied of interaction with these frail victims of a life with time and tension.  Escape is my pleasure, to worlds without sand but crystals and suns doused in the silken madness of dimension, holes, within worlds within storms, scorched by stars of tourmaline and tarot.  Where we are all gods and none bid us linger, but fly on to be measured by the game.  Resetting for a time to slumbers rest, questing for that moment to be dead to life but alive to venture unknown worlds in silicone splendor and synaptic fulfillment.  Make me again part of the dream, that I might not struggle with identities and ideals and this tawdry thing I am.

The happiness of helplessness.  Couldn’t make it in sports, academics, music, engineering, computers or even gardening.  Lost my way trying to be all things to people just so I might encounter that love of which so many had spoken.  Lured by its romanticism, called longingly by its promised brotherhood, edified by its warm embrace of encouragement and blessed that some day the ship of contentment would be at the dock precisely as I prepared to board.  The dream was a dream that I chased as I thought the dream was more than a dream but the treasures of reality, a reality I sadly misunderstood, chasing after romance, friendship, folly and approval.  The joy of being empty, the joy of not experiencing love is where we are drawn to the only place from which we could ever experience it unconditionally and be finally, hopefully acquainted with the Reality of the Love of God for each of us.

I’ve got nothing in the tank, but all I have to do is wait and the Lord will provide, not only material need but also energy, thought, words, counsel and comfort.  Being poor is no longer a thing from whence I run or plead victim to be removed from its anguish, it is a thankful, humble, faithful spot upon which to reside in the trust of God’s Promise.  If I am meant to be empty, unloved, hungry, cold, tired, naked and alone for a while, then good, for this is the purpose to the Good Glory of God.  Having walked this valley I will be able to truly appreciate my perch when once again sitting at pinnacle’s peak gazing on the victory of the mire I traveled below.

Please don’t misunderstand this is not a thing where I seek self denial or masochistic indulgence for the sake of spiritual perfection through longing and trial.  It is a thing of faith and trust knowing that God sent me to this planet for His purposes, one of them being my preparation by trial and crucible of sorts.  I welcome it for at the end lay true happiness and resounding joy in the victory of endurance and overcoming.  The trials are God’s message of faith in my capacity to reach out to him and be propelled beyond each obstacle to the finish line of realized faith.  I am not saying that I want to be cold, naked, tired, hungry, poor and alone.  Rather I am saying that I see the personal faith opportunity in each of these circumstances, knowing that the God who loves me dearly will deliver me, provide for me and call me once again to the mountain for prayer after I have walked through that horrid valley absent fear, longing and disappointment.  This life is not tragedy but only opportunity to learn and express the faith I’ve found in process.  Life is its own meaning, found in the living of each day to its fullest.  In Jesus Name.