Never in my life have I been so sure of myself, sure of what I have to offer people in terms of proof that Jesus can do great things in your life…and yet never have I felt I had so few words to express it. I’m not necessarily speaking about speaking to Christians. Speaking to Christians is the easy part. I grew up speaking Christianese, but I’m done. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Christians need to know that Jesus is still capable…because we forget. But it doesn’t do as great a good. The Father asked us to go to the people who haven’t heard. To stand up and show them that broken people can be more than broken. To show them that they are broken and that He can fix them. That’s what we were called to. So I go to work. I try hard to stand for purity…knowing that I’m the last good candidate for the task. I open my mouth to speak and stumble over my own words. Words that, in my head, made sense. Words that, in my head, were full of wisdom and truth.
It reminds me a little of when I was in High School and pretty much put to trial for my faith (ask me about it some time if you’d like). Only this time, they aren’t ugly about it. This time it is presented as only another opinion of world view. Which is both a protective and dangerous thing. It can keep me from being persecuted, because I am only presenting a relative point of view after all. However, the mind set of relativism keeps truth from piercing to the core of the issue. So…changed doesn’t happen immediately. Understanding doesn’t come instantaneously. All I can do, is be patient with my words…not rushing them out of my head, causing them to jumble up as they fall out of my mouth. And then pray. Waiting for rhema to come and breath life into the dry little seeds that I scattered like a four year-old, without good aim or good understanding of what I was doing. Meanwhile, physically, I’m standing there and they are looking at me as if I am speaking a different language. *smile* As if I come from a culture that is as different as some native African tribe. I stand there…misunderstood.
It almost makes me wish that I wore my sins, my past scars on my physical body. It would be proof. They would know where I came from, so that they can understand why I have chosen this path. They would see me as more than the girl who grew up in church…because that means nothing other than I am handicap in speaking to those who haven’t.
So I, like stuttering Moses, can only cry out that God would choose to send someone else…knowing that it is useless, because I am called for such a time as this. No one else is going to do my job for me. It is mine. And in a way, I am comforted in this, because I know that if it is my job He will give me the strength and wisdom to stand through it. Desiring only to change their lives in such a way that HIS! fingerprint is unmistakably and irreversibly left on their hearts. But that means I must speak to them from the purity of His mind and touch them with the purity of His hands. A job that I am not sure I am capable of.
Mercy Triumph
you ever walk a mile with the men
we got these sticks in our hands and moving over broken land across the deserts and the sand, wasteland
I understand the command and the difference
of the body, mind, flesh, soul, spirit
now tell me if you hear it?
and you can tell me if you fear it
please brother move near it
don’t let your dark conscious clear it
please brother move near it
don’t let your dark conscious clear it
I’m talkin’ bout the whispers of the Holy Spirit
I woke up I’ve had enough
of all the fists and the cuffs and the prostitutes bluffs, and addictions they never get enough and now the snake’s in
the rough and the heels’ on his head
please Lord just crush it
and take the venom out my veins
please Lord just crush it
and take the venom out my veins
mental attack, flash back, half-forgotten event,
fade to black, warped and bent, represents
the arrangement of connections in my mind
the mind over man soulfully seeking signs
elevated over rhyme and outside space and time
and if your third eye’s blind then you might just miss it
like the ship in the dark looking for the house of light
and like a man with his hands
asking heaven for a fight and now the pen’s on the paper but we don’t know how to write
have mercy on me
cause I believe You’re the One, the Son, who’s come to set us all free
have mercy on me
Lord I’ve still got questions
can anything be everything if everything is hollow? or does living has a reason that’s put off until tomorrow?
and now I’m riding round the bends to the bones of the morrow finding sorrow with the joy like the boy who’s been beat slashed torn and warned not to tell the truth and now my soul’s informed and I’m putting it to use, let’s defuse, I wanna defuse the humanistic time bomb compromising truth
buried alive in their scientific proofs
uncouth evolving sayers of sooth have lost their curriculum agenda and proof
for the Love that’s livin’ in me
and for the dreams that nobody sees
and for the broken soul on bended knee
and the God that’s gonna answer him powerfully
you see, you and me, we don’t amount to much
self-centered intellect’s not a power but a crutch,
losin’ touch with God’s reality, takin’ comfort in philosophies, thinkin’ it’s a speciality, sometimes fatality
who’s next on the docket?
have mercy on me
cause I believe He’s the One, the Son, who’s come to set us all free
Eating My Way Through It 