Hello my faithful readers, bloggers, and yes.. my random visitors, I see you! I know it’s been a minute since i posted and it is indeed regrettable. Do not throw rocks at me. ;D
However, i am elated to share with you what God has graciously placed on my heart. Recently, i realized that God has been leading me through, a somewhat different direction especially with regards to my writing. I find my content sounding more poetic than usual, and i believe it is for good reason.My prayer is that with every post, someone will be lifted, inspired, blessed and rise up from their ashes. Ashes take many forms and shades, but that does not matter because ashes in the palms of Jesus metamorphose into blooming roses. Now, that doesn’t mean i have abandoned the original arrangement and/or format, this is just my act of obedience.
I’ve always said that Jesus IS the most romantic person i have ever known. This is evident in the way i catch a serious case of the heebie-jeebies when i read about Him in the gospels. He just has a way with his words, how else would you explain how the Pharisees would switch to mute when He spoke? I love the Jackie-Hill Perrys’ of this world, but no one comes close to Jesus. He is the original Poet, and being around Him, no doubt has left a few punch-line marks which i will be expressing soon enough.
This piece appeals to the heart that is distracted. The individual who seems overtaken and keen to forget the finished works of the cross. It is a word for you to keep your focus, maintain your walking shoes even when your tempted to jump ship, keep your head up and your eyes fixed on Him, because His are on you.
Just remind me in case i forget. Just in case my mind slips into the Grecian arenas of amnesia. Just in case my will insists to assault the memories of your faithfulness; to sit obstinately that only my will and not yours be done.
Some days ebb out of the vapors of contrition, which unfortunately seemed closed off to my tongues distaste, i remain tempted to refrain into accapellas of self blame and jails of solitary confinement, disdain for the way life has chosen to up in arms struggle, regrouping to the right heart chamber instead of my left.
My arteries, still remain clogged with the blood clots, frustrating the opening of those ancient gates that the King of Glory may finally come in. A nerve-wracking battle to finally sanction the King’s will to flow yet again through my aorta; not willing to huff and puff, or exhale and breathe in His everlasting air, that clears away my heavily obstructed , abstract windpipes. I did not know breath until He broke through and breathed into mine.
I confess, it is a struggle Lord ; and i know i speak for many people; many sit like cats wrapped in cotton balls in such seasons; where they have not found their feet yet deep-rooted like Sycamore trees, Like Zacheaus..please, you cannot compete with this! They lift up their hands like half-mast flags because they still mourn the loss of their Living King. They hold up picket signs in demonstration of their lack luster frustration, hoping to resurrect the fallen Dr.King as if He can yet march down the streets where Rosa Parked. It is as if Malcolm X could yet again resurrect to say that it would be criminal to teach a man not to defend himself when He is the constant victim of brutal attacks.
With their backs against the wall, they still hope to make a come-back, they still have a dream that they will one day find their identity, identified in their desire to search for worldly things because The world is their comfort zone, their only home. But yet… I..
I still have memories cast in stone, head-phones on the low as i quietly reminisce about the one true Dr and King who lifted up heavy burdens of thankless generations birthed and still oscillating in their mother’s wombs. He lifted up heavy planks carved using weird configurations that resembled the silhouette of a cross. He faced the lashes and back-lashes of bloody executioners unaware of the power that stained their hands. They had inhaled the fallen nature of that fallen angel. Unaware, that they too had fallen. Yet here came a whiff of redemption.. a rare chance of Salvation.
And as He hung there, his blood-shot eyes soaked with the love for his Creation. He was filled with endearment towards their re-generation, as yet again, He had finished his mission; just to be the ultimate and final hero standing, deserving of the “S” on his chest. I said..Finally deserving of the “S” on his chest.. The true Original. The one and only Superhero.
Then .. My Master’s breath finally gave way. Gave way to victories written in the walls of heaven and gorily echoed in the temple of the abyss; the story where He tugged and yanked the keys of Humanity’s authority from that devil; and only them that accept Him as their savior and King have the rare privilege to be snagged in the latest designer collection only known in heavenly runways; feigning the title, “The Armor of Christ” featuring the breast-plate of salvation.
He reigns now… He reigns in glory, sitting gloriously at His Father’s right hand; as he prepares to come down one final time for us. He is currently engaged in state of the art architecture, creating mansions only measured as a whirlwind fascination; but one day soon, we will get to behold his art. He will come and bring them into the realm of his glory where their mortal bodies will finally have the strength to contain it. In that place where there will be no weeping or gnashing of teeth.
Therefore i choose to remember,lest i forget the banner that covers me today is your love. It is your passion to see me live out your original plan. I, your princess.. yet you remain my one and only King and friend.
To this day, the echo of that memory upsets the heart beat of my heart, call it cardiac arrhythmia, yet no pace-maker can regulate. Only your heart beat Lord that keeps mine awake. Therefore, remind me, when my heart flutters and attempts to stage a coup, to dictate the direction of my spasmodic emotions; remind me that you won it all. Indeed, you have won me.
Love and Sunshine