Existing in the Sphere of My Own Reflection

Storm clouds rise over mountains of steel. 

Hopeless, mechanized, exacerbated,

We refuse to flee the temptation to be exactly what they want us to be.

Faith garnered nothing but a lack of self respect,

And with no foundation, watch as we fall down. 

Death was never intended to be the standard. 

Death was never intended to be an escape. 

Theology is idolatry when our focus shifts to a mirror. 

Our eyes, captivated, ever staring. 

Endless questions create in me the need to be what they want me to be.

Hopes dashed on the altar of myself. 

And with no foundation, watch as I hit the ground. 

Pride was never intended to be the standard. 

Pride was never intended to be an escape. 

Who am I, the adage goes. 

Who is God, the adage goes.

Who are we, the adage goes,

What is this, standing silently in the back rows.

But holiness, you cry through clenched teeth,

holiness, not mine to live. 

God's holiness creates in me a desire to live above their image of me. 

My hope restored in light of his Truth. 

Jesus Christ, the only truth that picks me up off the ground.

Holiness was intended to be the standard.

Not mine. His.

Holiness was never intended to be an expression of the person they all wanted you to be. 

Shatter me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What a bittersweet symphony life is, but I wouldn't have it any other way."-ABR. 

"My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? If the whole show was bad and senseless from A to Z, so to speak, why did I, who was supposed to be part of the show, find myself in such a violent reaction against it?... Of course I could have given up my idea of justice by saying it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if i did that, then my argument against God collapsed too--for the argument depended on saying the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my fancies. Thus, in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist - in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless - I found I was forced to assume that one part of reality - namely my idea of justice - was full of sense. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never have known it was dark. Dark would be without meaning."--C.S. Lewis

Break:Bind (Along Came a King)

"So do not fear, for I am with you;
   do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
   I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

                                               --Isaiah 41:10

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't minimize my God. 

Don't minimize my God. 

Don't minimize my voice. 

Or, please...please do.

Minimize me if you want. 

On second, thought...don't. 

But...but...no. Rip me down to nothing, sweetest surrender. 

But, please don't minimize the One who breathes life through the "pain" I face. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Fury,

Relentless, blazing fury seared by the blinding heat of a passion I've been too afraid to embrace. 

You bleed me dry, old friend. Sucking the life out of me. Don't forget the one who breathes that life. 

Don't forget him, because he's coming for you. 

He's coming for you, and he's gonna hold on with the tenacity of your own grimy claws. I don't know what it is, friend. I truly don't...but it's like a mirror. Like his eyes reflect all the terrible things you are.  

That one time (the one in the aisle in that church), surrounded by a thousand crying teenagers making promises to a God who they weren't even convinced existed because everyone was watching, I looked into those eyes and I saw myself with boulders hanging from my neck and rusty chains binding me to myself. 

Oh Fury, can't you see? Can't you understand? I don't want you here anymore. The last time I let you have your way with me, you took it all. You reduced me to a puddle whose reflection only showed a dying man with a boulder around his neck, wrapped in rusty chains. 

You've infected me, dear friend, with a virus that preys on the ones I'm trying to help. My ministry's a tragedy if I give you control. Fury, your soul is as black as mine...and if there wasn't a brilliant illumination in this chasm of myself, I'd look more like you do. 

I thank God I don't. 

But that doesn't stop you from trying to pollute my speech and my attitude. You're rearing your ugly head like the cancer that just won't give up.

Don't you see? I want to be a man of integrity and I can't do that with you here. Please, get out now. Now, while there's still time. I told you he's coming, but you wouldn't believe me. Now I guess you'll see how redemption is good for me but terrible for you. 

Regretfully yours (but not for long,)

Stephen. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why am I a slave to what kills me?

Why do I keep in my grasp what consumes me?

Rage? Righteous indignation?

Most days I have reasons to be angry, to have my heart break over the present situations. God has given me a tenacious personality for a reason. Most days, I see the injustices in the world and the problems within my own community and I wish I could take them all on me. But I'm a long way away from perfect, and the weight of those things would kill me and bring the rest of them down, too. I couldn't do it. So why do I worry? 

I was talking to a good friend last night who reminded me that I can't fix everything. That I can pray and meditate on God's will. That I can give it all up to the One who keeps us from falling. That I can let go of my selfish ambition to fix the world and put it in the only hands that can do something about it. 

"Do not be anxious about anything,

but in everything, by prayer and petition,

with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."

                                             -Philippians 4:6 

And that's it. The only thing I can do. Because I know that when I worry about whatever problems I or others around me may have...I know that that worry soon turns into anxiety, and that anxiety builds and builds and builds and builds and it becomes anger. Soon that anger turns into a pity party, and, in the end...my old friend Fury materializes because I am livid that I can't fix the worlds problems. It's never really that I am angry due to the situation, but I become furious at myself for not being able to do anything about it. It's ridiculously nonsensical. It's irrational. It is my irrational fear. 

A long time ago, Rebekah Stanford asked me what my biggest irrational fear was. I sat there with the dopiest smile my freshman self could muster, but my mind couldn't formulate any ideas. I didn't know. At all. Now I do. I know that my biggest irrational fear is my own fury. He's a pesky little critter that only comes when I am crippled by fear of inadequacy. Because I still feel like I have something to prove to a mass of people who barely know me...and worse still, to the handful of people who actually do. 

I know that there is no fear in love...because perfect love drives out fear. Drives it out like that stampede in the Lion King where Mufasa died. the perfect love of the Father chases Fear and Fury out and tramples the remnants, because it is the most intense sort of love possible. One that transcends the abstract and looks like Jesus dying a bloody death so that fear has no place in my heart...because I know who I'm living for. Something real. Something gritty. Something that exists not to make me a cheery person but to purify me from unrighteousness, from the grasp of Fury and from the cage of Fear that I've built around myself to prevent me from ever having to step outside of my self-driven anxieties. God is so unbendingly good. 

Holy Spirit, 

Trample my fear.

Calm my anxious heart,

and let me rest in the Father's. 

May I be bold and exist to serve the One who died for all. 

May I exist to not only talk about love,

But to experience it.

Empty me, Holy One. 

Empty me and let me breathe life, 

As You have breathed life into me. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Build Your Kingdom As Mine Crumbles

"Build Your kingdom as mine crumbles."


It's a song lyric from Over the Ocean, this folksy rock band that I can't stop playing. It's words like that that cut me. Deep.


I've been living for so long in pursuit of myself. Consistently, I fall into the trap of assuming that, since I'm doing something for God, I am in some way good. That is the most enormous, destructive lie that I could ever tell myself.


There is nothing good in me. There is nothing good in me. There is nothing good in me. There is nothing good in me. There is nothing good in me but Christ.


And that's it.
But I can't seem to figure that out.
Always...people annoy me with their pride and then I think it's okay to turn around and judge them for their arrogance, totally ignoring the seeds of arrogance surfacing in my own life. If I am hurt, it's automatically someone else's fault.


My heart is not pure, I am riddled with self delusion and an overwhelming tendency to congratulate myself on a job "well done."


God, make me small.
I want  need your grace in my life to act as a needle to shut down my inflated head.
Humility has become an abstract word, much like love, in my life.
One that I strive for but run right past because of foggy ambiguity. 
What does it mean?
Oh, Jesus, what can you teach me about how to humble, about how to be pure? 
Like a child. Like a child. That's what you want.
My heart is willing, Adonai. I want to be pure, I want my actions reflect the Light that fills my lungs. 
I want to be good.
I want to be good. 
Make me small, sweet Jesus. 
I don't want to live in pursuit of myself anymore. 
Not unconsciously, not in my awareness.
I am ridiculously and hopelessly lost and tangled up.
My heart withers without you. 
God, build Your kingdom. Knock mine down with a wrecking ball.
Fill me with Your spirit and help me forget myself. 
Amen.