Tiny thing.

I'm trying so hard right now to wrap my head around what it means and ultimately how it shapes me to know my worth in Christ. To know that the me that I say I am is probably a lie and yet I am convinced that it is truth. I have allowed the world to develop me in such a way that I am now defined by it. This is such foolishness, I cannot even believe it....Our beautiful beautiful word is so rammed full of affirmation and Heavenly love. I'm sure that Jesus is just longing for His people to realise their true identity in Him and to experience the freedom that that knowledge brings. I feel with this like a very small girl embarking on a very long journey. It is a necessary undertaking though, and one which will lead me deeper into the Father's heart and enable me release others into His embrace without holding anything back. This poem reflects the words spoken as I take the beginning steps along this path of glory......

A little fledgling tree

Is the only me I see

The only way I am

Is a breaking, broken sham

I don't have what it takes

I'm a fraud, I'm a fake

But through Jesus I'll become

A free and chosen one.

I cannot seem to write at the moment, I have so many words in my heart and my mind but the sentences tail off, unable to be finished. Perhaps what is more true is that I cannot write what I want, I cannot create beauty. I want to express how much I care about the broken, those who are forgotten. I want to tell of marriage, of the love that I possess, of the weakness I feel. I have nothing though, no ability to communicate. I have begun so many poems but ended none. I am so full yet I struggle to express the depth of emotion I have. I cannot tell if I am joyful or mournful.  Hopefully the next time words are on this page they will be ones of meaning.

God, your love for me is just epic.

Filthy pearls.

 Jumpers, handbags, coats and shoes,

       Dirt and ruin, overspilling loos,

           I want, I want, how much can I get?

               When I see broken faces, I am filled with regret.

    A message on facebook, oh look a new tweet,

       Thousands of babies with no food to eat.

         Tesco value meat, yuck, I won't eat that,

          While in Indian slums they dine on a rat.

     A Heat mag subscription, Cosmo is what I need,

        So many desperate and capable yet unable to read.

           I throw things away without any thought,

            Others treasure the rubbish of what I have bought.

      Oh yes I am "kind", really think that I'm helping,

          The bleak reality is, I am lazy, I do nothing.

            Jesus please help me, Lord I so want to be,

  

               A girl who thinks of the lost ones and not only me.

Silly little pastor.

My heart it feels wrung, oft it is broken,

For others it hurts, it must remain open.

Is this what it's like to gather up sheep?

My crook stops them wandering, but my insides, they weep.

Rest comes not at night, strife haunts me through day,

As I watch for the wolves, stay away, I pray.

Entangled with others who take up my care,

My back is left open, with nobody there.

Pain raw and stabbing, sometimes consuming,

Acute absence noted, my soul it is groaning.

Am I not enough? What I've done is forgotten,

Perhaps not the cure, maybe I am the problem.

Where are my eyes? They look to self,

Short-sighted, I am foolish, I have such wealth. 

For when I fall down, One gathers me in,

He's the true shepherd, I must follow Him.

An Adulteress Faces the Light of the World

I'm caught in a lover's embrace,

My delight soon becomes my shame,

Taken out from comfort and warmth,

Naked in both flesh and spirit.

Men I expect to be kind,

Who instead trample my trust,

They shove me and scold me,

On a journey to I know not where.

Under my feet come temple stones,

About my face accusing eyes stare.

Words are uttered to a man of power,

Gripped by fear-my fate laid out.

But no not death, only writings in the sand,

A pardon received, a challenge comes too,

Hundreds of people are leaving the room,

'Til alone I stand, I'm seen by Him.

When questions are asked I mumble response,

His words when spoken, tell of love,

My joy unbridled, I've been set free

I'll sin no more as I go from here.

Grace poured out and lavished too,

My life I will now live anew,

Oh Jesus, sweet Saviour,

I'll try to follow You.

For my dear friend.

As a girl all she needed was loving care,

All that she wanted was not there,

What she got instead were trivial things,

A car, some money, even a diamond ring.

She grew up surrounded, yet lonely still,

Bullied and broken, her confidence killed.

She ran away in the night, where to stay?

Safety and comfort in the church 'til day,

She grew as a woman always looking to love,

Even in hardship turning to Father above.

Others were blessed, even through her pain,

She learned how to smile and dance in the rain.

But inside her still the darkness gnawed,

Try as she might she felt helpless, flawed.

She struggled and toiled, needing to rest,

Always trying hard, always giving her best.

God broke into her life, told her her worth,

"You'll laugh at days to come and be filled with mirth.

Child your life it isn't a mess,

My darling, my daughter who I long to bless,

I love you my beauty beyond any measure,

Your heart is my prize, I treat it as treasure.

I know how you've suffered, been broken, worn down,

But precious, I'm building you a glorious crown.

I'll pursue you my dear, all the days of your life,

I have your plans, I'll keep you from strife.

Trust in Me love, hear what I say,

You have a fresh start, it is a new day.

Your future has hope, joy and meaning,

I'll shelter you well, you'll come out gleaming.

You'll lead lost ones to me, carry my cross,

Your life is a victory, despite all your loss.

I'm here with you now, as I always will be,

Now keep your eyes on Me, great things you will see."

Stand firm then, submit to God, resist the devil and he will flee.

I will contend, I will contend.

I will stand firm on His holy name,

In Jesus I trust, my hope will remain.

It is not over, all is not lost,

Lord I'll pursue you no matter the cost.

I will contend, I will contend.

Away with my sluggishness, go too my apathy,

Consume now O' God I want fire all over me.

I'm here in the gap, I'm standing firm too,

Please take this life, I submit only to You.

I will contend, I will contend.

Saviour, Your victory killed Satan's cause,

Now the kingdom of darkness it crumbles, it falls.

It is finished You cried, help us to see.

Now please come Holy Spirit, set people free.

I will contend.

BOOOOOM!

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself." C.S Lewis - Mere Christianity

My Giant.

It creeps up on me so suddenly

And then it's at my throat.

It overcomes my every sense

And then my hope is lost.

It fills my mouth with all kinds of hate

And then I cannot be stopped.

It makes my hands fists of rage

And then my knuckles bleed red.

It leaves as though it were not here

And then my shame is fierce.

It will soon be gone forever though

And then I'll stand set free.

Near and Far

I love you with the fire of a thousand candles,

with the strength of ten thousand men.

I love you with the might of an ocean,

with the power of an angry wind.

I love you with five hundred colours,

with the beauty of creation's song.

I love you when we're on our sofa,

doing nothing for all the day long.

Isaiah Seven.

As the trees of the wood

Are moved by the wind

Let my heart be stirred 

for You.

As the birds of the air

Soar up to the sun

Let my spirit lift praise

to You.

As the flowers of the field

Bloom in great glory

May my life release beauty

through You.

As my feet on this earth

Are treading these paths

May my patterns be chosen

by You.

Also just wanted to share a poem by a wonderful man called Steve Brehm whose talent seemingly has no end....

It was so quiet

It was so quiet that I could hear,

in nervous whispers, the disciples fear,

the mocking thoughts of the ruling glass,

the drops of sweat on the lifeless grass.

It was so quiet that I could hear,

a soldier smile and a high priest sneer,

the wrenching pain of a mother's loss,

my sins being paid for, at such a cost.

It was so quiet that I could hear,

the pride of Satan disappear,

death crushed with an almighty blow,

the dawn of life and His Kingdom grow.

I find this poem-in particular the last verse so moving and powerful. So glad he shared it with the church, it really impacted me.

Pride comes before a church hall?

So yesterday at church we had this Illuminate day which was to celebrate God's creativity being outworked in His people and it was truly lovely. The church had several flower displays which were beautiful, and many people contributed art and poetry-all of which were astounding.

I wrote a poem about six months ago which Tom heard and felt it could be a song for our church. He and Charlie crafted my words (and added some others) into a little ditty which I very much enjoyed. I was humbled that my thoughts could be taken and formed into something which could bless other people. Sooooooo I learnt that this song was to be played in church as part of the creative day, I was assured of my anonymity. Of course Russell D informed the congregation exactly who wrote the song which I suddenly felt very shy about.

I knew when I wrote it that what I was expressing were desires that my heart and surely every other Christian heart should want to experience, but I never imagined that vulnerable words I had penned, would be so starkly laid out for people to critique, judge or ruminate over. I prayed: "Father I wrote this for you, so I give it to you, I don't hold onto any comments about it-good or bad, it reflects my heart and God I pray other people would somehow use it to be drawn into deeper love for you, anything creative in my being comes from you-the Father of Heavenly lights so I use it now to worship."

I learnt yesterday to let go of my pride and tried to discover too what it means to be truly humble. They played the song twice just to really ram home the message to me. Tom and Charlie-thank you for bringing the words to life and for singing them so beautifully, for having confidence in your giftings and for being lovely men.

I have so many more irrational emotions on this subject but I'll not bore you with them now, here is the original poem and my heart.

Let my love for You be constant
Let my love for You be true
Let me put no other before You
Let me only want to worship.
Let my life reflect Your glory
Let my heart rejoice with praise
Let me give You all the honour
Let me love Your Holy name.
Let Your presence be my fragrance
Let my clothing be Your grace
Let me please You dearest Father
Let me long to spread Your fame.
Let me live a life of victory
Let me love creation's song
Let me lead many others to You
Let me fight 'til the battles' won.
Let me run this race with vigour
Let me see it to the end
Let me always want to serve You
Let me see You as my friend.

France

I love France, I always have, to me it is peace. The Mediterranean makes my heart happy, so it was so wonderful to return there with ten other beauts for a week. We stayed in a glorious villa with utterly lovely views. In our garden we had a hammock which looked out across the valley-being in that was incredible! I am sad to no longer be surrounded by vineyards, cheese and wine.....

My heart it felt alive before,

but suddenly now aflame.

My memories of that place so dear,

re-awakened they remain.

My France you are such beauty,

you delight my every sense.

My God you made this wondrous land,

while far away is home.

                                                                 

A shattered face,
A broken faith,
Startled by the sun.
My perception wrong.

A beauty here,
A radiant hope,
Staring at the Son.
My fears are all but gone.

I'm discovering my poetic style slowly as I journey further into my literary conscious and I'm enjoying forming my writing into that which is beautiful to me. I know that I don't usually like to rhyme, I occasionally use it to "shock" the reader or to further illustrate a point. I often feel that poetry which does not rhyme but remains wonderful is superior-it's as though it has had to work harder to be recognised. Despite this, verse often comes into my mind which naturally rhymes and sometimes I enjoy the simplicity that it brings and just have to choose to sacrifice my prideful attitude of rhyming being inferior.

Some very dear friends recently presented me with "The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson" and as I opened it I felt so excited knowing that there were hundreds of pages of inspiration before me. Here are two poems which I find utterly lovely. They stir the creative in me and make me jealous. They also happen to rhyme!! Moot point earlier anyone?

To mend each tattered Faith,
There is a needle fair
Though no appearance indicate-
'Tis threaded in the Air-


And though it do not wear
As if it never Tore
'Tis very comfortable indeed
And spacious as before.


These poems are untitled which I love.

The Butterfly upon the Sky,
That doesn't know its Name
And hasn't any tax to pay
And hasn't any Home
Is just as high as you and I,
And higher, I believe,
So soar away and never sigh
And that's the way to grieve.




Thank you Emily.

The future holds both hope and fear,
The future draweth ever near.
What is to come I do not know,
But boldly forward shall I go.
My strong husband has my hand,
We walk into all that He has planned.
My mind uncertain, my heart unsure,
All I want is to honour God more.

I wonder if a butterfly is aware of it's beauty? What if a flower could know how much it is loved? The world around us captures and enthralls us, mystifies us even, in our human understanding some aspects of creation simply astonish. The grandeur, the glory, the great wonder of it all. When God created the world and all this loveliness which so astounds us, He created us too and gave us dominion.

I wonder what would happen if I were aware of my beauty? All these things I see on earth which are so utterly radiant are a mere shadow in comparison to me. I know this to be truth but the concept of it confuses me and makes no sense to me. How can I in all my brokenness, in the total mess of my life be anything more than rubbish? All I know is that I am worthy because He has made me worthy. I want to be able to live in the truth of that. I no longer want to feel ugly, ashamed, inadequate or useless.

Father I pray that you would help me to have your eyes, your vision, your view point. Lord I want to see myself decorated with lavish love, clothed in righteousness and changed from glory into glory.

Hub.

Just a quick one really....I just wanted to take a little time to publicly honour my amazing husband Charlie. He is a truly incredible man, who I'm not only blessed and privileged to know but I am also so thankful that I get to share my life with him. I have never met a man who loves God as much as he does, who endeavours to put God first in all things and who has so much humility. For anyone reading this who knows Charlie-you only know half the story! He honestly gets better and better and better the more you understand his heart and mind. I find myself so often being critical and judgemental of others-often the closer I've become to someone the more I've found in them that bothers me about the way that they live, (I'm a terrible person I know!) but in him I am constantly challenged by how deeply Charlie's gifts and passions run. The more I know of him the more I love and respect.

He is a staggeringly beautiful man, and I still cannot believe that he has chosen me. I feel so thankful and touched. I'm excited by what our future holds. Charlie you have been used by God so wonderfully in my life and I'm so indebted to you for the love and grace which you constantly extend to me. Thank you for being the best husband and friend you could possibly be, thank you for representing Jesus so well, thank you for challenging me and not letting me settle into a comfort zone. Finally thank you for not only capturing my heart but thank you too for treating it so well, my love for you is boundless, limitless and ongoing.

For my Charlie who is not boring, but to me is an unending adventure.

C.S. Lewis famously writes

 “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

That pain is how we often feel being separated from everyone that we love in Lancaster, but surely better that than the irredeemable heart.

Wild at Heart?

I am currently reading the book with the same title as this blog by John Eldredge, I read his wife's counterpart book "Captivating" several years ago and did find it helpful which in some ways made me cross. I like to think of myself as being different from everyone else, unique even, and for a book written for the masses to speak directly to my heart was irritating. But great. Humbling. I am such an idiot!

I have only read the first chapter of this writing and so far it has very much set the scene for the typical man to have a heart that lives for adventure. It implies that within all men there is a thirst for passion, creativity and wildness. He writes that we can see this by the ways young boys spend their time-fighting, ambushing, attacking, and playing Cowboys and Indians. He also discusses men and their love for action films...(Die Hard 17 anyone?) An interesting point he raises is that all Christian men are simply nice. He then states that he believes most Christian men to be   b  o  r  e  d.

I don't necessarily disagree with the things mentioned thus far but I do have some queries; What about the little boy who likes to read books, who likes to remain quiet, who plays instruments, who hates the outdoors? Will he grow up to be less of a man if he continues to enjoy these pursuits? Will he one day read "Wild at Heart" and feel insignificant?
Maybe this book will go on to outline more of balance, that it will explore the potential complexities of character differences. I hope so.

For my man, and his heart the wilderness within comes from a fiercely alive relationship with God. He is calm and gentle, quiet and introverted but weak? NO. For he has passion and strength in unsearchable amounts, qualities gained from a lifetime of reliance on our awesome Father. Does he like Rocky? Sure. Does he enjoy getting dirty, camping, racing, sports, exploring? Yes. Does this define his manly heart? For me Charlie is stronger than I could have ever imagined. He leans so heavily on God, and so is able to do "all things through Christ who strengthens him."

And that, that is what defines a man's heart for me, and how then can the Christian man feel bored, how can a life spent worshipping Jesus in all His might and splendour be anything other than glorious? Surely the way for a man to discover his soul is to spend time with the One who created it?

Maybe Mr Eldredge will go on to say all that I have in a much more articulate manner, I look forward to finding out, I'll keep you posted!

Jesus you endured my pain.

Jesus I am not worthy to carry your sandals,

But you let me hold your hand.

Jesus I am not worthy to call you friend, 

But you are my very closest.

Jesus I am not worthy to even call you by name,

But mine is written on your heart.

Jesus I am not worthy to be called a daughter,

But you have loved me as your very own.

Jesus I am not worthy of the death you died,

But you did it.

Jesus I am not worthy of your glorious victory,

But I can share in resurrection power.

Jesus I am not worthy to be a saint and heir,

But my inheritance is everlasting.

Jesus I am not worthy to know you as healer,

But you have redeemed my life.

Jesus I am not worthy to come to you freely,

But your welcome is constant and true.

Jesus I am not worthy of any of these things

But I am now.

Muddling through.

So today I haven't really been feeling so well, and with that my brain has felt so heavy and yet so utterly empty all at once. I feel as though I have lost all functional thoughts and what remains is simple air. I also feel sad, not deeply sad, it is not even a concious sadness, what I suppose I am feeling is a growing, gnawing at me discontentment. I feel it when I imagine, I feel it when I try to sleep and all that remains is thoughts, lots and lots of thoughts. Often it is not a melancholy feeling at all but one of hope in the future and in all the uncertainty that surrounds. I know that in order to leave my lovely Berkhamsted and all its beauty God needs to lift me from my deep connections here, and I suspect that is what is at foot here but with it brings muddle. I know my loving Father will bring peace and it is totally my responsibility to lean heavily on Him in order to experience this peace. What I have done though, at times, instead of trusting Him is to over-think it all.

For today anyway, whilst my mind is somewhat of a mess I have this short poem....I had a need inside me to try and articulate my emotions somehow, and in two short minutes I produced this. It's nothing to be proud of really but reading it makes me so very happy-it makes sense for me today.

"My head feels like a cloud,

not even a defined space.

A vapour, a wisp, filled with

heavy water just waiting to

escape.

The dark presence, it looms,

threatens to disturb her.

It hangs, lingers, her life

still sunny until that moment

comes.

I don't even know how to think,

my mind like a useless weight.

So blank, obscured, all is

numb and dumb and not fun

anymore.

Her Father gently speaks,

immediately lifts the gloom.

Wise, tender, and when those

drops fall, there is also a

rainbow. "

Ciao x

Remembering and Learning.

Just rediscovered this blog and with it my LOVE for writing...I've been challenged recently by God to write and write and write but I haven't. I so want to though, so I've been trying to gradually edge into the poetic realm. I have dipped metaphorical toes into poetry's glorious waters and although I have yet to drown, my feet are certainly wet. And so my appetite is whetted for this, one of my most favourite things. I want to write with passion, fever even. I want my writing to be moving, inspired by Him, challenging-threatening perhaps. Most of all I want my writing to change people's thoughts and influence actions. ( Positively of course, otherwise this blog is beginning to sound a little like I have plans for global domination Hitler stylee...which I most certainly do not!)

I want to write about love- My Father's love, a husband's love, a love for creation, a love born from compassion. I want to write about pain and suffering and seeing beauty in that. I want to write with vigour and feeling, with complexity and with very simple words. I want to express my heart and all that's within and not come across like a tool. I don't want to look back at older things I've written and regret lost joy and emotion, instead I want to write greater things, inspired by my ever changing life and my EVER wondrous Jesus. I want to stop this post now and actually do some of that.