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The Valley of Vision

A Puritain prayer I was able to hear on Ash Wednesday that in too many ways is the prayer of my life.

Lord, High and Holy, Meek and Lowly,
You have brought me to the valley of vision,
where I live in the depths but see you in the heights;
hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold your glory.

Let me learn by paradox
that the way down is the way up,
that to be low is to be high,
that the broken heart is the healed heart,
that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
that to have nothing is to possess all,
that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
that to give is to receive,
that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,
and the deeper the wells the brighter your stars shine;

Let me find your light in my darkness,
your life in my death,
your joy in my sorrow,
your grace in my sin,
your riches in my poverty,
your glory in my valley.
Amen

Blessed

As I have taken hold of the verse:

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”
~Matthew 5:6~

I am so blessed in that, for even in my inadequacy I hear the Lord repeating over and over again this day “I am with you. I am with you. I am with you.” And it rings on like a resounding gong that I may never forget the meaning of grace this day or ever again.

The Ragamuffin Gospel

A Word Before by Brennan Manning
It is not for the super-spiritual.
It is not for muscular Christians who have made John Wayne, and not Jesus, their hero.
It is not for academics who would imprison Jesus in the ivory tower of exegesis.
It is not for noisy, feel-good folks who manipulate Christianity into a naked appeal to emotion.
It is not for hooded mystics who want magic in their religion.
It is not for Alleluia Christians who live only on the mountaintop and have never visited the valley of desolation.
It is not for the fearless and tearless.
It is not for red-hot zealots who boast with the rich young ruler of the Gospels, “All these commandments I have kept from my youth.”
It is not for the complacent who hoist over their shoulders a tote bag of honor, diplomas, and good works, actually believing they have it made.
It is not for legalists who would rather surrender control of their souls to rules than run the risk of living in union with Jesus.
If anyone is still reading along, it is for the bedraggled, beat-up, and burnt-out.
It is for the sorely burdened who are still shifting the heavy suitcase from one hand to the other.
It is for the wobbly and weak-kneed who know they don’t have it all together and are too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace.
It is for inconsistent, unsteady disciples whose cheese is falling off their cracker.
It is for poor, weak, sinful men and women with hereditary faults and limited talents.
It is for earthen vessels who shuffle along on feet of clay.
It is for the bent and the bruised who feel that their lives are a grave disappointment to God.
It is for smart people who know they are stupid and honest disciples who admit they are scalawags.
It is for myself and anyone who has grown weary and discouraged along the Way.

On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need the doctor, but the sick. Go and learn the meaning of the words: Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice. And indeed I came to call not the upright, but sinners.” (Matthew 9:12-13)

When Will Black Be Beautiful

a poem inspired by a white man
__________________________________

When will black be beautiful
When will strong thick thighs
Noses broad and wide
Be exemplified
Like the pale skin models
Under runway lights

When will nappy hair be in style
So I wouldn’t have to pay sixty dollars
To feel lovely sometimes
When will these deep brown eyes
Be the object of not just my own kind

Cause in a world where everyone says gray’s alright
We’re all still very black and white
When what we say just doesn’t “feel right”

And while the little girl in me
Still wishes her eyes were blue with a tint of green
That her hair was light and long like Sleeping Beauty
Cause that’s the only beauty she’s ever seen
I’m waiting for the remedy

For someone to say
To the little black girl with braids
Cause that’s all those naps could do some days
You’re beautiful too in every way

Her Name Was Emilene

Wrote a new song, “Her Name Was Emilene”, (hints the title) and I’ve gotta be honest it is probably the saddest song I’ve ever written, and I’m not one to write sad songs. I’m still deciding whether or not to post it up in the coming days or to wait it out, but I do want to share the lyrics with you…and you can just imagine what it may sound like or see it as a poetry entry for the moment (it’s pretty rhymey). But I won’t keep you waiting, and for all the Emilene’s out there…you’re lovely.

Her name was Emilene
March she’d be seventeen
She wore those Wrangler jeans
So tight to cause a scene

And when her blue eyes gleamed
Boys melt like butter cream
Such a shame to see
An end to all their dreams

She was a wild child girl
With dreams to change the world
But all she’d ever known
Were black eyes from drunken blows

While she dreamed of days
When all her pain would fade
All those plans she made
They never made her stay

Had I known I’d have told you you were lovely
That your beauty was far more than skin tight jeans
That inside you was a woman so becoming
Worth more than all those school boys’ lying schemes
That my Daddy loved you more than you can see
That he loved you far before you came to be
You came to be

Her name was Emilene
March she’d be seventeen
Now all she’ll ever be
Is dirt by the almond tree

© 2010 Kristen Hines Music

Peace

By Jennifer Knapp

He is my light and my salvation
Whom have I to fear?

In his secret place I’ll hide and pray that I may hear a simple word

O how I would have despaired if you had not come found me there
I can lean against your throne and find my peace
Find my peace

And when my enemies draw near I pray that they will find that I’m protected and secure
All tempests he will bind with a mighty word

O how I would have despaired if you had not come found me there
I can lean against your throne and find my peace
Find my peace

He is my light and my salvation
Whom have I to fear?
————————————————-

Oh the beauty of it all…

Hope everyone is doing well tonight…I know I am. If you know nothing else tonight…know that you are loved.

Don’t Stop Believing

 

Listening to:
Song: I Shall Believe
Artist: Sheryl Crow
Album: The Very Best of Sheryl Crow

 

 

It’s late, and it looks like I’ll be showering at 6:30AM tomorrow (seeing as I didn’t do it tonight). But actually I may give myself some grace and make it 1PM depending on how well the morning coffee treats me.

On a night like this I wish it were raining so I could have some extra percussion to the U2 ringing in my ears, but no such luck. I’ll have to wait until Thursday according to the weather widget. Maybe I’ll still be as contemplative then as I am now.

Rain always seems to go well with thinking. For some reason the cleansing of the atmosphere seems to do the same for my mind. Rain helps me think, but then again so does iTunes. And as the morning is approaching (or technically is here) the tunes are working their magic again.

It’s funny how song can just stir within a hole plethora of emotions. It’s a beautiful melancholy where within me my thoughts range anywhere from the dull ache of missing someone to a rapid overflow of peace. It’s nights like this where I can understand someone delighting in brokenness. It’s almost sweet the sting of loneliness, and the plight of the contrite. It seems like my heart remains perpetually broken, but it’s not a bad thing.

The brokenness doesn’t steal my joy, it just makes me keenly aware of the pain that surrounds me and the fact that this place was never meant to be called home. I guess you could say I’m still dreaming of a land far away where children play and love never fades.

Love and peace friends.

~Beauty in the broken~

If You Want Me To

 

Listening to:
Song: I Surrender All
Artist: Jadon Lavik
Album: Roots Run Deep

 

 

Pandora just gave me a little blessing

The song ‘If You Want Me To’ by Ginny Owens came on and once again I was reminded of God’s faithfulness even in the silence. So much of what’s before me is unknown. Some days I wonder if I’ll reach this finish line of faith, but that song just reminded that in everything He is my Rock and my Portion. And it’s beautiful the way he remains even when the rest of the world leaves.

In Him I find my hope, and that can never be taken away.

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