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.

What is it you believe? Is it a garden that requires your attending hand? Or something that stands without edification, something so absolute whether you look, pray, touch or invest it remains unchanged, immutable from the hands of anything mortal, impervious to time, wind and emotion or death.

We struggle against unseen things. We demand results that may be posted on the stormhouse walls. Yet, none would assume or remember victories without the gift of Hands that need not our attendance. We do not edify ourselves, but are grown, paved and erected to stand against the powers outside our sight by a being beyond our comprehension.

Our choice is to serve and find mystery and miracle in laying down days, prayers and objectives for the amazing outcomes of the Divine. We are in such manner defined. Our identities tied from beginning to beyond our mortal end by our allegiance to something that will always remain beyond any of us.

It is myth, this quest for self reliance or glory beyond the walls of my own imperfection. What made me makes me great, good or a miserable form of failure, pitied by all that breathes gifted air. There is nothing created either in bravado or surrender, simply my union with things on pathways I require permission to wander.

Please stop trying to coax me into disobedience. There is no contempt more deeply felt than those things that seek to pull me away from the realization of the Kings Promise. For I was not simply made to perform the whims of my own device and dimension, but to reach the stars with kindled light placed in my heart for God’s good reason.

Temperatures coming down as the back of my neck is uncustomarily dry in the path of the afternoon sun. Greens are dampened but the blues of the sky above are so bright as if they punch me. Awe, Stricken any remorse forgotten as the valley below reveals the darkened pools of cool water awaiting the afternoon showers. Hard to imagine that this life is just the practice round, that we can barely envisage the size and shape of awaiting miracles.

How many moons tolerated my gaze? How many times tracing the craters and ridges they now say are simply our imagination? What shadow shakes us from the dream we all thought real? What questions remain in the back of minds that have been somehow manipulated in thought for a lifetime? It is always a joy when I see that I thought myself further on the journey to a lifetime of maturity. Hopefully arriving at a plateau where thoughts are certain and life somehow shared some of its secrets with me before passing bye.

Throwing caution and care overboard we cannonball over the gunwale crashing into the waves beyond, somehow fearless breaking the pall of paralysis trapping the inner child. What dreams have we forgotten? What pressures have we born that were never meant for our packing? Alive in the world that God made for us, hard to comprehend how my shallow path in this roadway will bring great glory to His Name. The things I have pondered that never needed a bit of attention remind that it is so easy to lose sight of the proper investment.

The bright orange of morning strikes me in a moment’s pause. The Earth seems ready to bust loose from its temporary orbit and take off for the outer reaches, to galaxies unknown. How simple my reflections, how basic my understanding, how meager my resolve. Waiting on ideas that resemble something worthy of God’s making. It is not the lack of capacity to say or do the impressive, but hoping someday to see His image in my own. That kinship is so far beyond the approach of marching footfall. It seems so close yet further than the light side of darkness.

I taste the air to determine which was the smoke is rising. No gray fog, but misty whispers of cloud fingers tapping each of us upon the arm and cheek. The wind it captures sunlight throwing strikes of lightning through each passing molecule of water. I blink as if time could be forgotten, remembering simpler days and nights where no child felt he could ever be alone. Something stops my breathe briefly, not struggling to hold it tightly in my chest. At best I had become a man laden with false sense of power and security. At worst a man missing all that really ever mattered as I chased the shiny bugs.

Believing in things beyond my imagination, fighting for things that bring love into focus and punching above my weight class. Forgiving as instantly as possible and walking on from silly folks who have no idea they are mocking the Maker. Trying to care for folks who most often don’t even realize that they need it. Loving kids, birds, squirrels, goats and donkeys because they know where to get it. Knowing very early that I am meant to pass through this place with very little warm and fuzzy but a treasured set of opportunities to see the impossible done before I leave.

I am not better than anyone, never wanted to be, though did waste a bunch of time trying to master everything to prove to them I was always good enough. Natural insecurity associated with believing that everyone should be given love and realizing that just is not the rules here. What a spectacular use of my time to meet people who seemingly at random needed a kind word, hug or whisper of encouragement. Always getting it wrong when trying to fit in or serve the local master, it’s just outside my structure to do anything because they believe that’s how we measure up.

Life in my cup. Selling nothing. Rarely able to convince anybody of anything especially when they accuse you of being clever enough to do so. Losing the luster of speaking with folks cause they just want to chatter about this or that never really wanting to improve the relationship. Simply marking time until something they want shows up in the availability list. Don’t want to be anything to anybody other than the guy who was there when they needed. I fully comprehend that desire to pass between dimensions at will or just blend into surroundings as it was always the only power I ever really personally obtained. Thank God He showed me how to give that all up.

Trying real hard not to shout above the misery and braggadocio as folks are not taking seriously that God said we need to be prepared. The only time that makes sense is before an event, after it is simply regretful. Never was anyone’s cup of tea or soul mate, just someone solid enough and barely entertaining enough to keep them distracted from checking their watches for the buses arrival. What is faith if we don’t respect it enough to apply all that we are to see it grow by walking? Don’t know how success looks, but I think of it akin to chopping wood. You know there is enough when you’re done chopping.

Can’t tell anyone what is right for them, but that doesn’t mean I won’t sound the trumpet as their enemies come calling. Service has never promised good treatment it really is about getting someone else what they are seeking. I read the Word and see a world that resembles very closely the moments we’ve entered into. In a scarcity sense everybody knows as well but they seem to mention it in passing, not lifting, packing, gathering or disciplining as if the last day might be this one.

Being thankful for everything is the greatest stretch of the expectations I hold dearly close. Things don’t often align with the plans I pondered quietly, but it is even harder to believe that they always turn out better. That’s the thing that makes this impossible thing, easy. I don’t want much anymore. Not that hope has been abandoned, but the trust in my own imagination has somehow gotten so much smaller than I remember. Don’t need to wow the world, I would be fine with a dog that I know I can always impress or sponsor. God is more than enough for me. I truly learned that when I let go of trying to get everyone else to realize how much I love them.

All die is the certainty of all men, women and children who have lived on this planet, with few exceptions. Those exceptions: those who history writes have been taken before death by God and those who have been set free from the appointed death and judgment provisioned by God’s Gift.

No matter: Believer, atheist, agnostic, denier, scientist, transhumanist or servant of other god all use the same declaration of faith in the something to which they owe and deliver conformative and confirmative action. Therefore the difficulty in discussion is always found in arguing over the choice rather the material of historical incidence.

Why then must science or disbelief in Christianity rewrite Biblically documented history or claim that it has been manipulated or inaccurately recorded in order to confirm their world view? To date the same argument ensues with unfounded or documented claims or revision are met with the same worldly documented data that sponsored yesterday’s document.

Yes, it appears and logic would agree that there is much more to know than is known. God provides for this understanding in indwelling gift of His Holy Spirit to accurately and safely guide each human into that which is yet known. There is no escaping our shortness of life that none remain alive who were eye witness to the history we all base our arguments upon. However, that is exactly the frustration/elation with Bible as no other documents lay effective dispute to its wealth of accurately defined events.

If there are differing choices, paths and thought collectives that entirely based upon our willingness and choice to make certain our faith, then arguably and inevitably as the Bible predicts there will be a time for all to finally realize the Truth by Test. The Bible perfectly predicts that test and exactly how it will be conducted and its provision for dispensation of outcomes based on that Certainty of Faith.

What we must all see equally and logically is that those of Faith are reckoning a convergence with the reality of today’s events leading to that eventual review. Yes, we are blessed to either walk with a “spiritually enabled sight” of the things to come in faith or await the evidence and outcome without that reliance.

We all know what is coming. The problem and the argument always begins at the decision to either acknowledge the Truth that is God as God or depart to a particular or smorgasbord of belief in action. I am rejoicing that the pregnant moment of my testing has come for it happens in this life not in the next as many sustain. It is the perfect arena for one decision: for or against the sole pathway of Christ Jesus.

When we analyze this collective purpose, we find the basis for argument is truly on the part of those who will not for whatever reason acknowledge God. For all are marching toward the inevitable unveiling of the Truth. However, the difference and it is huge is that the unveiling for Christians happened two thousand years ago and makes each of us certain of two things: we are no longer participants in the collective argument and two because we are no longer facing the inevitable death leading to the equally inevitable judgment.

There remains no doubt in all this life has been about. To stand stout and shout against the encroachment of the churl and the lout. We’re refined in circumstance whether dress, skirt or pants. In war, sales or romance. Everything determined by the portrait of our stance.

What fear is wrought in all that we’ve been taught, begged, borrowed or bought or the virus we caught? What thoughts are made pure in the things we endure? What days are made right by dark dreams in the night? What families made whole with no soup in each bowl?

So simple the word, so absurd all the history we heard. When evil makes kings the wind that it brings poisoned with things that the spring never brings. But summer is hot and plenty in pot none left to rot as the time each forgot. All sad little tales the Bishop regales forever it fails.

Asleep at my work some entitlement jerk refusing to clerk nor greasing the zerk. The system in pause my toes, beak and claws testing the laws and escaping the maws. But none true shall pass no boy, count or lass with charisma a class we are fated to pass. Happily.