I seemed to have been waxing quite philosophical recently. Partly due to time in the Word and partly due to a long convo w/ a dear friend. Both have taken my mind in two places. Kinda like Thoreau finding his fork in the path in the wood, although, I don't see things the transcendentalist way. There is Truth that is just that, Truth. It is not dependent upon what I think. It's dependent upon what God says. I can try to manipulate that Truth to create my own truth, but it will never be Truth. Some of my truth my seem right, but that truth is always open to interpretation. God's Truth remains constant and irrefutable. Try as we might to make it into our own image, the reality is there's only His Image. With this long, rather drawn out dissertation on what Truth is, I'd like to share a couple storylines that contain His Truth.
The Caged Bird -- based on Psalms 124:6-8
What is the cage that holds me prisoner? What is it that holds me back from living 100% for my King? He holds the key which has I already unlocked the door. He flung the door open wide when He arose from the dead. He ascended to heaven and as He did reached His hand in and left His Spirit to help me leave. Yet, here I sit; on my perch; afraid to go. He's healed my clipped wings so I can fly out, yet I doubt their strength and His ability to truly heal, so I don't try. He's reassured me that it's okay to leave, but I don't trust that He'll not slam the door in my face. He's provided a feast right outside the cage, but I'd rather peck at stale seed than enjoy all the goodness He wants to give. I sit on my perch and sing tired, old songs because I haven't allowed Him to put a new song in my heart. Although the prison door stands wide open, I choose captivity. My Savior has done everything, all I have to do is just accept it, but I choose to remain in the prison of my own making.
The Sculptor -- based on a convo w/ Shell (thanks Sis!)
All day long, the passersby hear the ring of the hammer on the chisel. Working tirelessly long into the night, he never seems to weary in his progress. By the time he falls asleep, his busy hands bear the sores of the tedious job. The stone has been unyielding, today. Many times he had to go back over the same spot trying over and over to break away a stubborn piece of stone. Some days the pieces come off easily with little effort. Other days the chunk is stubborn and will not yield to the chisel's touch. He must be careful and precise with where he applies the tool because he could easily destroy the image that is below the surface of the rough stone. He knows that when he is done, his patience will be rewarded. A masterpiece will be revealed, created in the image that he has always intended.
Ok, so this one is allegory, but think about it. The Creator of the Universe holds the chisel in his hand and applies the hammer to it. If you've sculpted before, you'll know that your hand gets very tired and sore from the blows. It does cause you pain. It also causes the stone to break. God knows that the painful blows He applies will cause the hard stone to break away from the image He's created us in. It causes Him pain, too. He doesn't like to have to hammer that rock away. When we yield ourselves to His will, the hammer easily knocks away the stone that is covering that image. But when we resist? Then He has to go over and over the same place. Chipping and chipping away at a stubborn piece of stone that we want to hang on to. He sees how ugly it is making His image, but we insist that it looks just fine. We deny the hand of the Maker because we think we can see more clearly, from inside the stone, than He can, from outside. Until we yield that to Him, He's just got to keep chiseling away. Feeling a little sore in some area of your life? Maybe the Master Sculptor is working on chipping away a stubborn hunk from His image, the image He created in you. Do yourself a favor. Let Him chip it away. You're gonna like the results because He does good work!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Phlippage Continues
Kid's off at a volleyball game and the Phoenix and Klang have gone w/ her. Got the house to myself. Listening to the Dodger Game. Go Dodger Blue! Sorry for you Cubbies fans out there. Know you've waited a long time for your guys to go far, but gotta back my Dodgers! No bragging b/c both teams are talented. Just wanna see the Dodgers go all the way! Gotta show those Angels fans that the REAL LA team can get the job done. Go Blue!
The story continues...
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Deep within a sinister cave in the distant mountains, a gnarled hand reached into a velvet pouch hanging on a cord from a woven belt. Carefully, a pinch was taken from the sack by arthritic fingers and sprinkled over a glassy, black pool in the center of the cave. The precious dust was in short supply and hopefully the small amount used would be enough. Leaving the safety of the cave to search for more was just too risky now. There was too much at stake.
Failing eyes set in a time wrinkled face gazed at the pool. The particles of powder landed on the surface of the water and sunk beneath its surface. Fear and frustration passed across the face that had seen far too many wars. Fear that the pool would not reveal its secrets and frustration that it was taking so long that his presence would be revealed. "There must not be enough dust," he thought as disappointment was rising in his chest. "Grimmach!" he exclaimed aloud. He knew he had only one chance; just one chance in each moon cycle to seek the oracle in the waters. Just as he was readying himself to leave, a faint glow began to come up from the depths. As the light grew brighter, an image began to take shape. He had arrived in time and the dust had been sufficient. It seemed that things were finally coming together.
Patiently he waited for the image to form. It would only come once and would only be a glimpse. He hoped that it would be enough for him to discern how to proceed. There were so many questions left in his mind; so many that had no apparent answers. The fear began to creep into his heart again. "You will fail just as you have done many times!" the familiar, loathsome voice invaded his mind. Would it ever stop? Everytime that voice would echo in his ears. The voice of his master. Many times, as an apprentice, he had tried to please him, but each time, no matter how successful he was, it was never enough. "You're a failure!" The voice haunted his sleep and robbed him of pleasant dreams. "Noooo!" he shouted. "Not this time! I will not let you in; this time! I must succeed! I must! There is no one else left. I must..." His head slumped to his chest and despair. Then the music, faint and clear, began to swell and fill the cave. As he raised his head to catch the melody, the image appeared on the waters. He saw a beautiful lady, a singed wall, a gap in the wall, the lady on the ground and a glowing blue stone rolling from her hand. So, it had begun. He scooped up his belongings and tucked them in his robe and turned to make his way out of the cave. His quest was only beginning.
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Stay tuned for more.
The story continues...
-----
Deep within a sinister cave in the distant mountains, a gnarled hand reached into a velvet pouch hanging on a cord from a woven belt. Carefully, a pinch was taken from the sack by arthritic fingers and sprinkled over a glassy, black pool in the center of the cave. The precious dust was in short supply and hopefully the small amount used would be enough. Leaving the safety of the cave to search for more was just too risky now. There was too much at stake.
Failing eyes set in a time wrinkled face gazed at the pool. The particles of powder landed on the surface of the water and sunk beneath its surface. Fear and frustration passed across the face that had seen far too many wars. Fear that the pool would not reveal its secrets and frustration that it was taking so long that his presence would be revealed. "There must not be enough dust," he thought as disappointment was rising in his chest. "Grimmach!" he exclaimed aloud. He knew he had only one chance; just one chance in each moon cycle to seek the oracle in the waters. Just as he was readying himself to leave, a faint glow began to come up from the depths. As the light grew brighter, an image began to take shape. He had arrived in time and the dust had been sufficient. It seemed that things were finally coming together.
Patiently he waited for the image to form. It would only come once and would only be a glimpse. He hoped that it would be enough for him to discern how to proceed. There were so many questions left in his mind; so many that had no apparent answers. The fear began to creep into his heart again. "You will fail just as you have done many times!" the familiar, loathsome voice invaded his mind. Would it ever stop? Everytime that voice would echo in his ears. The voice of his master. Many times, as an apprentice, he had tried to please him, but each time, no matter how successful he was, it was never enough. "You're a failure!" The voice haunted his sleep and robbed him of pleasant dreams. "Noooo!" he shouted. "Not this time! I will not let you in; this time! I must succeed! I must! There is no one else left. I must..." His head slumped to his chest and despair. Then the music, faint and clear, began to swell and fill the cave. As he raised his head to catch the melody, the image appeared on the waters. He saw a beautiful lady, a singed wall, a gap in the wall, the lady on the ground and a glowing blue stone rolling from her hand. So, it had begun. He scooped up his belongings and tucked them in his robe and turned to make his way out of the cave. His quest was only beginning.
-----
Stay tuned for more.
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