Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Little black fingers
Something that is really refreshing about truth is that each and every time we meet, it's as if we had never met before.
Tonight was monumental for me. My brother, Desean, was sitting in my lap and it took everything I had to cowboy up and not cry. He is about two, talking, but not with words yet. He is one of the most joyful human beings I know and I'm completely in love with him. We played for about forty minutes, but what moved me took about five seconds. He was putting his tiny fingers in my ring and playing with my bracelets when he opened his hand completely and grabbed onto my pointer finger. Time stood still as I studied all of the tiny joints and bones that gripped mine. His black hand squeezed my white finger like mine had done to many when I was his age. I felt the biological sameness and saw it more clearer than ever. Our hearts were completely connected and I lost it. My heart got hot and I felt water rush into position in my tear ducts. The intimacy was worth dying for.
There's no way I could put this experience into words. I'm trying, but as I reread this I see that it's just words. I know you know that we are equal. That's not what this is about. Equality has absolutely nothing to do with this. It used to, but now it can't. This isn't a "Well God loves them too." kind of issue. In the kingdom we are past that. We are not separate and equal, we are one and loved.
I will be completely honest and tell you that I don't believe in my self enough. My confidence as a songwriter is about as low as it could be. I throw away my poetry.(That rhymed) But I need to post this poem. I'm not seeking anything from you- finally, I'm free from that! This poem is from my heart. No matter how basic, how bad, how cheesy, how whatever it is, this is what it is and I'm satisfied. This paragraph is more for me than you, unless you can relate. If you can, just be who you freaking are. If your anything but that and accepted, wake up, it's not even you they are accepting. I'd rather be me and persecuted than fake and fit in. That's enough. The message of this poem is the one we need to hear.
Little Black Fingers
Little black fingers wrap around mine
gripping tight, like a desperate vine
Little wet eyes innocent shine
Look strait past mine.
Through my mind, into my heart
past the places that have fallen apart
past all of the muck, all the grime
all this racist bullshit built up over time.
Whoa to my ignorant past
when self preservation was my only task
my life set to wither and burn like a field of grass
now my brother is first, I'm last.
This boy has found with his youth
this thing in my heart, this undeniable truth
deep inside he had to dive
to find this light I can no longer hide.
Our fingers one, like our soul and mind
the supernatural bond defying all space and time
all my life I'll leave behind
to hold this boy, just one more time.
A man is a man, a boy a boy.
A breath is a breath, life yields joy.
A mind is a mind, a heart a heart.
We can no longer be split apart!
These walls are GONE! Can't you see?!
His heart is with mine, his heart is part of me.
This boy is my brother, quite literally.
We're the resurrected body, this I believe.
Tonight was monumental for me. My brother, Desean, was sitting in my lap and it took everything I had to cowboy up and not cry. He is about two, talking, but not with words yet. He is one of the most joyful human beings I know and I'm completely in love with him. We played for about forty minutes, but what moved me took about five seconds. He was putting his tiny fingers in my ring and playing with my bracelets when he opened his hand completely and grabbed onto my pointer finger. Time stood still as I studied all of the tiny joints and bones that gripped mine. His black hand squeezed my white finger like mine had done to many when I was his age. I felt the biological sameness and saw it more clearer than ever. Our hearts were completely connected and I lost it. My heart got hot and I felt water rush into position in my tear ducts. The intimacy was worth dying for.
There's no way I could put this experience into words. I'm trying, but as I reread this I see that it's just words. I know you know that we are equal. That's not what this is about. Equality has absolutely nothing to do with this. It used to, but now it can't. This isn't a "Well God loves them too." kind of issue. In the kingdom we are past that. We are not separate and equal, we are one and loved.
I will be completely honest and tell you that I don't believe in my self enough. My confidence as a songwriter is about as low as it could be. I throw away my poetry.(That rhymed) But I need to post this poem. I'm not seeking anything from you- finally, I'm free from that! This poem is from my heart. No matter how basic, how bad, how cheesy, how whatever it is, this is what it is and I'm satisfied. This paragraph is more for me than you, unless you can relate. If you can, just be who you freaking are. If your anything but that and accepted, wake up, it's not even you they are accepting. I'd rather be me and persecuted than fake and fit in. That's enough. The message of this poem is the one we need to hear.
Little Black Fingers
Little black fingers wrap around mine
gripping tight, like a desperate vine
Little wet eyes innocent shine
Look strait past mine.
Through my mind, into my heart
past the places that have fallen apart
past all of the muck, all the grime
all this racist bullshit built up over time.
Whoa to my ignorant past
when self preservation was my only task
my life set to wither and burn like a field of grass
now my brother is first, I'm last.
This boy has found with his youth
this thing in my heart, this undeniable truth
deep inside he had to dive
to find this light I can no longer hide.
Our fingers one, like our soul and mind
the supernatural bond defying all space and time
all my life I'll leave behind
to hold this boy, just one more time.
A man is a man, a boy a boy.
A breath is a breath, life yields joy.
A mind is a mind, a heart a heart.
We can no longer be split apart!
These walls are GONE! Can't you see?!
His heart is with mine, his heart is part of me.
This boy is my brother, quite literally.
We're the resurrected body, this I believe.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Open your eyes.
I can give nothing that I have not first received.
It is in prayer that we receive what the Lord has to give us. He has everything to give us, even Himself. If we receive His Spirit, which we have if we claim to be a Christ follower, we have the very presence of the God who created all things living within us. This truth leaves very little room for limits of any sort.
In receiving, we are enabling ourselves to give. In giving, we are enabling ourselves and others to know what love is. Through Christ and through Him alone I am able to love. I am able to give my life to other people, that He would be known.
When we lay hands on each other in prayer, is it different than when we don't? If not, then why do we do it? I am learning that when one lays hands on me, if I choose to receive what the Lord is giving me through them, I will receive. I think that's one reason that Jesus always says, "Your faith has healed you..." For how could one be healed if they weren't willing to be?
Faith for me is the trust that enables me to fully open myself, to be completely willing to change, and it is completely dependent on and rooted in the truth that there is no threat and no condemnation, no limit of power, nothing but grace, love and mercy that this God is offering.
Without this trust, I can not fully open up. If I can't fully open up, I can not receive.
When I pray, I should have a heart who is open to receive what the Lord has to give me. It is much like Eyes. When they are open, they are able to receive the light that is shining in our world. It is this reception that enables our brain to recreate and make sense of the world around us.
If we open the eyes of our hearts, we are positioning our hearts for reception of the light. Jesus Christ is this light and it is only through Him that we are able to see what is true.
Seeing and receiving are one in the same.
Let us pray with an intent to receive that is rooted in our trust that what He has to give is worth the risk of being open and vulnerable. He has given us no reason to doubt that He is good. Not one. If you have one, please let me know so I can ask Him about it. I find that when I think He's doing bad to me, I am actually just looking at His work with my eyes closed. (Everyone remembers the slimy spaghetti noodles in a box at halloween time that were labeled "Brains." Of course they are brains when you can't see them!)
Prayer and receiving is seeing. Seeing the Lord work, and yes, I mean healing by touch and all that stuff, is living. Let us live.
Let us let Him open our eyes to see His love working.
It is in prayer that we receive what the Lord has to give us. He has everything to give us, even Himself. If we receive His Spirit, which we have if we claim to be a Christ follower, we have the very presence of the God who created all things living within us. This truth leaves very little room for limits of any sort.
In receiving, we are enabling ourselves to give. In giving, we are enabling ourselves and others to know what love is. Through Christ and through Him alone I am able to love. I am able to give my life to other people, that He would be known.
When we lay hands on each other in prayer, is it different than when we don't? If not, then why do we do it? I am learning that when one lays hands on me, if I choose to receive what the Lord is giving me through them, I will receive. I think that's one reason that Jesus always says, "Your faith has healed you..." For how could one be healed if they weren't willing to be?
Faith for me is the trust that enables me to fully open myself, to be completely willing to change, and it is completely dependent on and rooted in the truth that there is no threat and no condemnation, no limit of power, nothing but grace, love and mercy that this God is offering.
Without this trust, I can not fully open up. If I can't fully open up, I can not receive.
When I pray, I should have a heart who is open to receive what the Lord has to give me. It is much like Eyes. When they are open, they are able to receive the light that is shining in our world. It is this reception that enables our brain to recreate and make sense of the world around us.
If we open the eyes of our hearts, we are positioning our hearts for reception of the light. Jesus Christ is this light and it is only through Him that we are able to see what is true.
Seeing and receiving are one in the same.
Let us pray with an intent to receive that is rooted in our trust that what He has to give is worth the risk of being open and vulnerable. He has given us no reason to doubt that He is good. Not one. If you have one, please let me know so I can ask Him about it. I find that when I think He's doing bad to me, I am actually just looking at His work with my eyes closed. (Everyone remembers the slimy spaghetti noodles in a box at halloween time that were labeled "Brains." Of course they are brains when you can't see them!)
Prayer and receiving is seeing. Seeing the Lord work, and yes, I mean healing by touch and all that stuff, is living. Let us live.
Let us let Him open our eyes to see His love working.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Music comes from a musician, not a piece of paper.
This morning I stood in chapel with many people who love the Lord. We were singing a beautiful song that everyone knew very well and things were great. Then we sang a line that made me want to curl up in a ball and hide from all of the people who would ever recognize me if they saw me in heaven.
"And we, the redeemed, shall be strong,
In purpose and unity;"
These were the words. Not so bad when you read them. They are so good and filled with truth. But when I sang them as if I believed them, I almost felt the Lord look at me with eyes that left me knowing one thing: I don't know what am talking about.
As I sang this verse, I quickly realized that within the ten minutes I had been in this room that was full of Christians, I had judged each and every one, harshly. I had done all I could to separate myself from them- even the ones I know and deeply love as family. I had destroyed them without even giving them a chance. They had no chance and I murdered them all.
I've been wrestling with my hypocrisy all day long and have been furious with myself. I constantly work to rebel against my father, leaving nothing but broken lives behind me. This event was seemingly out of my control. It wasn't like when I slip up and look at a girl the wrong way, that's, (to a certain extent), something I can fight. But the very nature of my heart! How can I fight such a monster?! It was like a violent flood from underground compared to the sprinkling rain of my lust. I would have lost even if it had occurred to me that fighting it was a possibility.
I can't fight my sinful heart. Well, I guess I can, but I will always lose. Christ fights my sin ,when I let Him, and He always wins. If this wasn't true, His whole shebang would have been a complete waste of life, wood, and nails.
What I am realizing is that a heart issue is a heart issue. For me to use my mouth and brain to inhale and exhale truth is great, but incredibly limited and the intimacy is severely stunted. I have been living this stuff out and seeing true growth and life, but my heart is still corrupt- So corrupt that as my mind and lips testify to the truth, it perfectly retaliates with a much stronger blow. The movements of the heart are far superior to those of any other part of this human. If this weren't true, then being adulterous for looking at a woman lustfully would sound like a joke. It is a joke to those of us who don't give our hearts to the Lord.
We must give it to Him. All of it. I have "given Him all of it," with my mouth and my mind, but my heart has not stopped to listen. My mind and lips have spoken, but it is not until my heart can listen to the words of The God, that it will truly speak.
My heart is not changed by asking for it. It is changed by listening to Him. He speaks perfect words to it and it must begin to let them seep deep into the cracks before any life is lived. His truth is like a seed that must be planted beneath the surface before it could ever grow into something relevant to anyone or thing above the ground.
The truth that He has been speaking to me is the best news ever thought. I am set free from this. I have life when I let Him.
My heart is like an instrument and my mind is mere sheet music. You can write notes on a page all day long, but it's nothing until the musician picks up an instrument. The best musicians don't even use the sheet music anyway, and society thinks they're jazz music is crazy until they finally realize that John Coltrane was a genius!
The musician is waiting very, very patiently.
He's not patient because the issue is not urgent in his eyes. He is patient because He knows music is in the space between the notes more than in the notes themselves. He is patient because He knows very well that redemption is worth every, single moment, breath, word, and life it takes.
"And we, the redeemed, shall be strong,
In purpose and unity;"
These were the words. Not so bad when you read them. They are so good and filled with truth. But when I sang them as if I believed them, I almost felt the Lord look at me with eyes that left me knowing one thing: I don't know what am talking about.
As I sang this verse, I quickly realized that within the ten minutes I had been in this room that was full of Christians, I had judged each and every one, harshly. I had done all I could to separate myself from them- even the ones I know and deeply love as family. I had destroyed them without even giving them a chance. They had no chance and I murdered them all.
I've been wrestling with my hypocrisy all day long and have been furious with myself. I constantly work to rebel against my father, leaving nothing but broken lives behind me. This event was seemingly out of my control. It wasn't like when I slip up and look at a girl the wrong way, that's, (to a certain extent), something I can fight. But the very nature of my heart! How can I fight such a monster?! It was like a violent flood from underground compared to the sprinkling rain of my lust. I would have lost even if it had occurred to me that fighting it was a possibility.
I can't fight my sinful heart. Well, I guess I can, but I will always lose. Christ fights my sin ,when I let Him, and He always wins. If this wasn't true, His whole shebang would have been a complete waste of life, wood, and nails.
What I am realizing is that a heart issue is a heart issue. For me to use my mouth and brain to inhale and exhale truth is great, but incredibly limited and the intimacy is severely stunted. I have been living this stuff out and seeing true growth and life, but my heart is still corrupt- So corrupt that as my mind and lips testify to the truth, it perfectly retaliates with a much stronger blow. The movements of the heart are far superior to those of any other part of this human. If this weren't true, then being adulterous for looking at a woman lustfully would sound like a joke. It is a joke to those of us who don't give our hearts to the Lord.
We must give it to Him. All of it. I have "given Him all of it," with my mouth and my mind, but my heart has not stopped to listen. My mind and lips have spoken, but it is not until my heart can listen to the words of The God, that it will truly speak.
My heart is not changed by asking for it. It is changed by listening to Him. He speaks perfect words to it and it must begin to let them seep deep into the cracks before any life is lived. His truth is like a seed that must be planted beneath the surface before it could ever grow into something relevant to anyone or thing above the ground.
The truth that He has been speaking to me is the best news ever thought. I am set free from this. I have life when I let Him.
My heart is like an instrument and my mind is mere sheet music. You can write notes on a page all day long, but it's nothing until the musician picks up an instrument. The best musicians don't even use the sheet music anyway, and society thinks they're jazz music is crazy until they finally realize that John Coltrane was a genius!
The musician is waiting very, very patiently.
He's not patient because the issue is not urgent in his eyes. He is patient because He knows music is in the space between the notes more than in the notes themselves. He is patient because He knows very well that redemption is worth every, single moment, breath, word, and life it takes.
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