noisy gong

Heritage of LOVE...

Most often our perception of love looks something like...

A fairytale... 

Boy meets girl... She twirls... says "I do" and it's done... 

Happily ever after.... love in a nutshell.

Feeling heavy about the four letter word today... it's dreamy for me to believe that love is being fully portrayed in the bride...

It's also a 

LIE...

The body... 

We need to remember we are clothed in wedding garments... 

As we wait we are to be His hands.... bestowing crowns of love.

Unveiled faces being transformed...

As I remember the hard truths boldly proclaimed in 1 Corinthians... conviction stirs and sets in.

Most of my love looks a lot like...

An attempt to play an instrument  of make believe... I pretend.  

The result = clanging. 

Loud noise.  Noise that drowns out loves true melody.

Don't get me wrong.  I am learning...  very much on the journey.  

As I study I feel heavy... NOT DEFEATED... 

Simply put... 

I just want to love better...

I want my hands to play the skillful tune of love.  

Tongue hanging out from joy-filled focus... He teaches scales and I play...

Not because of duty... but because His songs of love bring delight... I WANT to offer... I WANT to sing...

Eyes looking left and right... longing to bless others with His song through me...

So many things love is not...

envious

rude

selfishly insistant

irritable

resentful

evil loving

Not a noisy gong... Not a clanging symbol.

I don't want my life to reflect the list above...  

It has though... even today... I am guilty....  

I am also forgiven and taught anew....

God is a pattern breaker... He busts through sins comforts... creating new products of love...

The beauty on the far left is an instrument of love... my own mother... a woman that breaks generational patterns.  

She loves in ways that changes... me and everyone she comes in contact with.

Her playful love... full of grace...   

Her very presence and royal listening invites me to demo what she lives...

I take my instrument painted with flames of passion...

I learn to play His songs... I learn to love...

Not just Him... not just the song... not just my story... but the whole body of instruments.

Praying as I continue to tune out "the oldies" of love and pic new truths... His affection will overflow...

Like a river of joy pouring out... flushing out the gongs and clamors...  and replacing them with beautiful melodies of LOVE....

In the end it's all Him anyways... so busy thinking I am playing with all my might... but it's Him that makes the music... I just get to partner and play.... 

He writes the song sheets of my life, and I sing of the "Happily ever after" that really is coming... 

His song over us is the remnant song we are called to learn and sing... LOVE.

word seeds

"The person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good."
Luke 6:45

Words...  they are so powerful.
Doesn't seem like rocket science...
Life words bring life... death words bring death.
Simple to conceive quite hard to birth.

Whether written or spoken...

Words are...

Seed that grow.

Some into rich nourishing plants.... others... into life sucking weeds.
Both deeply rooted.

I gulp hard as I realize that I have fertilized many weeds in my home.

Pastor and I try to be very intentional with our language.   New skills are being learned in the artistry of planting word seeds.

Today... a day filled with grumpies from the overly tired and also... unique Lenten blessings...

One of the many beautiful gifts of following God is He invites us to live in expectancy...

As we accept... ordinary days turn into days filled with a rainbow of opportunities.

The House of Hope... a home of learning... filled with students of all ages.  God does not speak only to the parents.  We all learn from each other.  

Some lessons... especially from our prince are a little wacky... but I seek to learn and scribe what he orders... we all giggle at the instructions of his WILD youth... 

My obedience shows there is no division... speaks value to his risk and courage for future equations...

As I teach I closely study.  

My pupils are RADICAL.

Surprises are literally around every corner.  How I see and speak dictates intake and opportunities.

The small are moved to record... for others and themselves.

Testimonies... 

Faith builders and colorful gifts... marked out for all generations.

Artists declaring love names from The King in the Son's light.

All our lives spent so busy naming in ways that don't honor... ALWAYS NAMING... do we see it???

Good day/bad day... smart/stupid... funny/boring... best/worst...  delicious/disgusting... hate/love...  The list is endless... as are the labels. ... 

Spoken curses from mouths meant to edify.

A reminder stirs...

"What comes out of a person is what defiles him." Mark 7

We guard our words... we watch our tongues... our children hear big things regarding their stories.  They embrace huge truths.  They hear from God and they bear His royalty...  We name in a way that honors each other and the Name Lover.

They receive because of the Spirit alive in them... they hear love calling...

They respond with toothless shine...

In the midst of all my grumpies... all my failings... all that isn't Him... He still uses me... He still... 

Proclaims nobility... in... through... and around me...

His seed... fully good... fully alive... fully active...

Our words... just another way we manifest His deep within and affectionately crown those we come in contact with.

Desiring my young to help plant good seeds of their own from abundant treasures we've helped deposit. 

Our first fruit... so full of beauty... blooming so much... using her treasure... speaking royal names of promise over the youngest seed.  And inviting those around to experience rich fruits from the Land of Promise.

guard

Truth... worthy of the guarding.

Life... stored in memory's bank... both mind and heart should be protected.

Even when we don't think we need equipment or don't like its look...

Protecting the fragile is as essential as the air we breathe.

Just like the Helmet of Salvation... delighted in by some...

Eyes closed in dislike by others...

Truth is this helmet has been lovingly worn by all the tender warriors in our home.  It has looked different for each but has served its purpose well... 

Protector of the sacred...

Armor our family has grown to love... it protects stories.

The mind... not seen and yet such a strong weapon.  

Intentionality and awareness is needed to preserve that which the enemy longs to pollute.

So often we don't make proper adjustments... 

Knowingly we use our hands to create gaps for the enemy... we leave space for injury...

 His ideas and words of destruction invade and glaze over decrees... making our word truths cloudy...

We must march in this life girded in truth.... Helmets Of Salvation firmly fastened...  Hearts and minds firmly rooted in promise.

It's a momma's job to be attentive to gaps... to tighten loose straps for herself and her young.  

God has handpicked me to be a tool for the Kingdom.  

I am to encourage greater vision... to teach and declare His truth.

No invitational gaps issued to the evil one on my watch.  

Days will come when protection from my hand will feel like a touch from an enemy... 

During these times I must fight lies all the harder.  Truth will be declared...

I love...

I protect...

For His glory...

At all costs...

I wear my helmet...  I help others with theirs...  It is my calling.

In our home we are Hopeful's aware of the Divine that saves and delivers.

And... with all our helmets securely fastened we march on in the darkness... 

Carrying His letters of light.

resting...

Enjoy...

And feasting at Rest's table...

bubbling

I am a princess that asks for the scandalous.
I desire the outrageous love of God's power, anointing and love to be poured out in ways I don't deserve...
I want Him to bubble up in me...

Longing to be smeared with Him... lenses blurred with His affection... RADIANT.  Arms always open for more.

I'm more like a child than ever... 

Delighting in whispers and awareness...

Shadows of promise dancing in the Son-light... His love covers like little balloons...

Joy spreads quickly... 

Feasts of the cheerful heart abound and soon the bubbling surpasses the rooftops on Rigdgegate...

Oh this delicious fruit from the Spirit's basket... Intended to be feasted upon and shared... 

But... I've been known to reject His offerings... even in my deepest hunger. 

So often alive with grumbling.

Choosing to foster the explosive buried deep.

I am entrusted with choice... 

What a huge responsibility!

Praying as I see more... taste more... and am filled...

The bubbling in me will increase...

Moving faithfully wherever The Wind may blow... 

Adding beauty and playfulness... and increasing wonder in all His sons and daughters...

Longing also for the fruit of faithfulness to be indwelling...

For... much like the bubble itself... the sparkle of life is here for just a blink.  

truth arise

Lent
Day 2

The morning began with much expectation...
Some days just feel more alive than others.  Part of that has to do with the physical me... other times... the Spiritual.

I knew the truth of today's forecast.   A day to be filled with the warm and bright.
This morning didn't speak of those truths...
The view...

A skyline filled with foggy haze.  Where are the signs of the spoken shine that I so hunger to see?

Truth... always present... easily masked by circumstantial cloudiness.

It's during these times that I must fight and remember... it only takes a teaspoon of truth for victory to arise.

No matter what my circumstances are cooking up... I can trust the truth that permeates the soft of my soul...

It mixes with what it seen... the sticky... the messy... the ever changing... 

Hope does it's job... it presses in and forms... it waits in expectation... certain of the coming change.

Patience... time... and watchful eyes see the heightened... 

Intense heat is prepared in order to make the permeable permanent...

Without this step... without the high temperatures... all you have is a sticky, inedible mess resembling what could be...

There is no other way to solidify... to transform the pliable into it's intended glory.

Thankful for the Bread Of Life.  His aroma that speaks love like my Grandma's kitchen.  Alive with hands that work to replenish the hungry.

His truth not alway manifested in ways easily seen... but wholesome to the eyes and the body.

Yes... His truths always arising... even on the foggiest days.  

Promises always prevailing... 

And when the weather on Ridgegate feels heavy with gloom... I can choose Spirit eyes because I know... 

No matter how my mornings start... His forecasts always ring true.  

In His perfect time... 

The light of His faithfulness shines... making way through the thick cover....

Bringing beauty and His Victorious truth... penetrating my gap-filled landscape.

  

messy

Messy...
A word often spoken and seen in Hope's house.

This word spoken by Good Pastor just moments ago in regards to today.

Ash Wednesday.

A day for all God's people to pause and bring words of repentance...

Words carried and folded... 

Prepared for The Refiners fire...

Sins caught in light... 

Forgiveness burns bright...

Pastor fans into flame until...

Only ashes remain.

Not wasting the cost... we are marked...

With love's hands...

All different... all offering their own ashen confessions...

One by one and one to another we choose remembrance...

Sister's painting phylacteries of the ultimate... smallest princess squawking for hers.

Tattooed with the greatest art this world has ever known... each Hopeful marked with The Story.

Everyone wanting to bear a copy.  It's worth more than all the world's riches.

So are the gifts it carries... 

For we not only repent... we remember... and we anticipate that which changed the course of history... 

Resurrection joy.

Intentionally entering into the sacred with eyes fixed on the HOPE He sets before us...

Today...  a day of rain and gray markings.  A day to ask... seek and even to grieve... but it is also a day for preparation...

For... The healing light that bursts through the messy gray brings rays of glory offering what we can't fully fathom.

As Pastor marked me today he spoke truth... 

"Ashes are messy."  

Indeed... 

Much like the princess that wears them.

But I serve the God that brings beauty from ALL ashes... 

His story in these eyes are living proof.