I used to dream that I could fly
Just above the whispered clouds, beneath the somber sky
I had a dream I was alive
I dreamt that love would never die, goodbye
Dreams were cheap and hope was easy (so light)
The forgeries of life deceiving (so bright)
And as I glided to the ground (so long)
Calcified, the concrete weighed me down (cruel world)
Your wings are holding up the sky
Dear God, I had dreamt that I could fly
Alkaline the burning frost, has blistered deep beneath my bones
And winter spat its hatred, cold and coiled, black and deep
As it called me ever further, where evil burns and never sleeps
I once had prayers that found no words, fragile things I've never spoken
Through my lips passed eulogies for all the oaths that I have broken
And still the ghost of hope was haunting, through the dark to save the living
And still beneath it all I dreamt that God could be forgiving
Your wings are holding up the sky
Dear God, I dreamt that I could fly
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride
I am the worst of all things here
My crooked, black, and lying heart still spits its bitter fear
And each and every sparrow
They flutter to the ground before they die
So please God don't forget me
''I have been with you all along, you have not noticed me.'
Nervosa now felt more ashamed than ever before.
'Why would you still care enough to save me
even after seeing the horrible things I have done?
Why do you remain here even now?' She asked, sobbing.
'Because, here is where you are,' the Lamb said softly,
'And I long to be with you.''
See from His head, His hands, His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
To Christ, who won for sinners' grace
By bitter grief and anguish sore
Be praise from all the ransomed race
Forever and forevermore
Sunday, June 28, 2009
"God didn't send me out to collect a following for myself, but to preach the Message of what he has done, collecting a following for him. And he didn't send me to do it with a lot of fancy rhetoric of my own, lest the powerful action at the center—Christ on the Cross—be trivialized into mere words.
The Message that points to Christ on the Cross seems like sheer silliness to those hellbent on destruction, but for those on the way of salvation it makes perfect sense. This is the way God works, and most powerfully as it turns out. It's written,
I'll turn conventional wisdom on its head,
I'll expose so-called experts as crackpots.
So where can you find someone truly wise, truly educated, truly intelligent in this day and age? Hasn't God exposed it all as pretentious nonsense? Since the world in all its fancy wisdom never had a clue when it came to knowing God, God in his wisdom took delight in using what the world considered dumb—preaching, of all things!—to bring those who trust him into the way of salvation.
While Jews clamor for miraculous demonstrations and Greeks go in for philosophical wisdom, we go right on proclaiming Christ, the Crucified. Jews treat this like an anti-miracle—and Greeks pass it off as absurd. But to us who are personally called by God himself—both Jews and Greeks—Christ is God's ultimate miracle and wisdom all wrapped up in one. Human wisdom is so tinny, so impotent, next to the seeming absurdity of God. Human strength can't begin to compete with God's "weakness."
Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don't see many of "the brightest and the best" among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn't it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these "nobodies" to expose the hollow pretensions of the "somebodies"? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That's why we have the saying, "If you're going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God.""
-1 Corinthians 1:17-31
The Message that points to Christ on the Cross seems like sheer silliness to those hellbent on destruction, but for those on the way of salvation it makes perfect sense. This is the way God works, and most powerfully as it turns out. It's written,
I'll turn conventional wisdom on its head,
I'll expose so-called experts as crackpots.
So where can you find someone truly wise, truly educated, truly intelligent in this day and age? Hasn't God exposed it all as pretentious nonsense? Since the world in all its fancy wisdom never had a clue when it came to knowing God, God in his wisdom took delight in using what the world considered dumb—preaching, of all things!—to bring those who trust him into the way of salvation.
While Jews clamor for miraculous demonstrations and Greeks go in for philosophical wisdom, we go right on proclaiming Christ, the Crucified. Jews treat this like an anti-miracle—and Greeks pass it off as absurd. But to us who are personally called by God himself—both Jews and Greeks—Christ is God's ultimate miracle and wisdom all wrapped up in one. Human wisdom is so tinny, so impotent, next to the seeming absurdity of God. Human strength can't begin to compete with God's "weakness."
Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don't see many of "the brightest and the best" among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn't it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these "nobodies" to expose the hollow pretensions of the "somebodies"? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That's why we have the saying, "If you're going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God.""
-1 Corinthians 1:17-31
Sublime Thoughts
Woke up feeling like death, the medication finishing the bleeding out process.
Every single thought brings me back...making me question my decisions: "Was I wrong?", "Was it right?", "How did it come to this?" and more then I can recall.
I want anger and rage to pilot me a course out.
Instead all I see is finger nails painted red, digging into my skin.
Poorly dressed metaphors too stoned to put their clothes on and instead try to hide in plain sight.
The only lie, the sweetest one, is the one I heard.
I think it was from me but I'm not sure.
Addictions...lines of lies, bottles of staunch falsified hope behind me and inside...maybe You.
This epic waste, this failure coated in time and sealed in plastic.
Keeping hope as a distant and proverbial type, the sort you wouldn't want to take home to mom.
Ready too late...or too soon depending on how your view of time...being literal or maybe just metaphysical constructs...derisive spittle...confusion laced tears.
I hate medication, much less medication which fades out leaving side effects and just pain. Promoting this aging, falling apart body that is about decay.
It's being revised as we speak...dealing with idiots is tiring but you should try living with myself.
Revised blueprints about how it's a failure is something else unknown and entirely unknown.
Preceding...a process...thoughts...unredeemed.
Forgiveness being a luxury I've lived without.
Just like...love.
Dripping dots, water spots.
Failing down.
Every single thought brings me back...making me question my decisions: "Was I wrong?", "Was it right?", "How did it come to this?" and more then I can recall.
I want anger and rage to pilot me a course out.
Instead all I see is finger nails painted red, digging into my skin.
Poorly dressed metaphors too stoned to put their clothes on and instead try to hide in plain sight.
The only lie, the sweetest one, is the one I heard.
I think it was from me but I'm not sure.
Addictions...lines of lies, bottles of staunch falsified hope behind me and inside...maybe You.
This epic waste, this failure coated in time and sealed in plastic.
Keeping hope as a distant and proverbial type, the sort you wouldn't want to take home to mom.
Ready too late...or too soon depending on how your view of time...being literal or maybe just metaphysical constructs...derisive spittle...confusion laced tears.
I hate medication, much less medication which fades out leaving side effects and just pain. Promoting this aging, falling apart body that is about decay.
It's being revised as we speak...dealing with idiots is tiring but you should try living with myself.
Revised blueprints about how it's a failure is something else unknown and entirely unknown.
Preceding...a process...thoughts...unredeemed.
Forgiveness being a luxury I've lived without.
Just like...love.
Dripping dots, water spots.
Failing down.
"Hurricanes" - Five Iron Frenzy
Yo toda via espero un milagro,
Yo toda via te espero a ti.
The sunlight is fading,
the longest shadows have been cast.
Like songs from a siren,
hurricanes from the past.
And I am a failure,
defeated every time,
so let me lie here,
a sidewalk for a shrine.
I am so lonely,
they say you were lonely too.
Dear God be my savior,
I wait for you.
My broken spirit,
is trembling slow.
Park bench for a throne now,
my blanket is the snow.
And I'm being haunted,
by long forgotten dreams,
for hurricanes have,
the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
I am so lonely,
they say you were lonely too.
Dear God be my savior,
I wait for you.
I am pining for your mercy,
for this storm to break,
Lord you are my comfort,
the hope for which I wait.
Yo toda via te espero a ti.
The sunlight is fading,
the longest shadows have been cast.
Like songs from a siren,
hurricanes from the past.
And I am a failure,
defeated every time,
so let me lie here,
a sidewalk for a shrine.
I am so lonely,
they say you were lonely too.
Dear God be my savior,
I wait for you.
My broken spirit,
is trembling slow.
Park bench for a throne now,
my blanket is the snow.
And I'm being haunted,
by long forgotten dreams,
for hurricanes have,
the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
I am so lonely,
they say you were lonely too.
Dear God be my savior,
I wait for you.
I am pining for your mercy,
for this storm to break,
Lord you are my comfort,
the hope for which I wait.
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