Saturday, November 21, 2015


What she saw could never be unseen, and what had been done could never be undone. She despised herself for her foolish ignorance, and she knew ignorance was an invalid, useless excuse.  Her blindness added to the horror, and she fought hating herself. The images of torture in Khaos tormented her and captivated every part of her mind every second of every day. Her reality had become a blur. She saw no one. She saw no thing. She heard no one. She heard no thing. She hadn’t looked Johnathon in the eyes for weeks. She hadn’t touched him, and she was deadened to his touch. No touch no matter how intimate and sincere could console her. Her fierce devotion and adoration for him was buried deep beneath her misery.

Sharp breaths of agonizing pain would wake her from her sleep every night. The grief was so deep in her soul her entire body felt its stinging ache. Some nights she would pull her knees to her chest and wrap her arms around them in failing attempts to shield the gaping hole inside from more plundering blows. Other nights she would grab hold of the mattress or the side of the headboard and exert every ounce of energy she had to try and exhaust herself of the strengthening agony. Her body convulsed, and her erratic breathing would turn quickly to uncontrollable sobs. She did not work to restrain herself. She had no pride and no strength to conceal the wound. Her heart beat like it would rupture, full with emptiness. There were moments she thought she would succumb to the torment and die. On those nights, her crying turned to groans and whimpers of utter despair. Johnathon would try to hold her, but she could not feel his touch. Her senses were numb with sorrow. Distracted with hopelessness, she would push his every effort away. He would sit up in the bed next to her and hide his face in his hands as he listened to her turmoil. When she would finally calm and fall back into a feverish sleep, he would lie as close to her as he could and place his hand in hers. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she awoke, pushed him away and suffered again.

One night, incapacitated with exhaustion, Elizabeth shuddered in and out of sleep continuously throughout the night with shortness of breath. She was fighting for consciousness, but her body would not allow it. Her shirt was wet with sweat, and her chest moved up and down in a violent rhythm. Johnathon had not attempted to lie down or close his eyes. He wrestled with her trying to grab her hand and hold her, but even in her unconsciousness she pulled away and withdrew into herself. When she finally awoke to the anguish, an awful lamenting began. This one was the worst, and he could not bear it. He moved quickly and put his arm around her. She pushed hard against his chest moving him away from her. He fought the urge stirring in his gut to weep with her.

 “Elizabeth, please.”

She didn’t hear him. All she could hear was the mourning of those locked in Khaos. She was too troubled to recognize that her wailing began to match theirs. He couldn’t sit helpless any longer watching her suffer. He wrapped his arm firmly across her stomach and pulled her to him. Her back met his chest, and she was too faint to fight him. He detained her gently, refusing to release his hold. She let go of her desperate grasp on the mattress and both of her arms wrapped around his, and she clung to him with all the strength left in her. He moved carefully with her every movement as she shook, and he kept his breathing steady. Using up the last of her physical strength, she rolled over in his arms and buried her face in his chest. Her arms and hands fell limp against him, and her sobs collapsed relentlessly into him. His hands remained on her back as her heaving turned to quiet cries, and her quiet cries turned to silent deep breaths. With her forehead pressed against his chest, the trembling faded. He knew she had to be cold as she lay uncovered, but he would not risk moving his arms from her.  He didn’t realize that Elizabeth felt the warmth of his body and of his affection. For the first time in a long time, she was aware of him and awake to his love. She paid close attention to his breathing, and she remembered his unwavering strength. Overwhelmed, she moved to sit up. He shifted his weight quickly to fix whatever was wrong.

“No, it’s ok,” she said through a whisper as she turned to face him.

He was sitting up leaning back on his hands at attention, and his eyes carefully studied her. For the first time in weeks, her eyes met his and she looked at him. She saw him. In an instant, the mental fog surrounding her love for him vanished. She watched him as they sat in silence. She saw her pain reflected in his countenance. She realized that as she was drowning, she held him under the water with her. He was careful not to move and break her gaze. He let each breath move very softly and cautiously through his lips. He kept his eyes on hers and refused to blink, afraid that if he did, her eyes would no longer be on him when they reopened. She had forgotten the power behind the sincerity in his eyes. She was speechless by her ability to fall blind to his irrevocable loyalty. She shook her head in disbelief at herself as she stared at him. She placed her hand gently over his heart. He fell into her touch besieged by how much he missed her affection. Her eyes were broken but steady. Her voice was frail but sure.

“I love you.”

Although he had told her countless times over the past few weeks and received no response, there was no hesitation in his reply.

“I love you.” 

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Brave Enough To Die

Point your fingers, growl and laugh. Make mockery of the cross.
Perhaps you’re too strong to hang on it, where all of your gain becomes loss.

Look! They’re bloody, bruised, beaten and scorned.
Perhaps you’re too mighty for your pride to be murdered and mourned.

What a fool! Who would choose naked humiliation hanging from a tree?
With our heads turned in disgust, all of us declare, “Not me!”

You can’t move your arms or your legs! You’ve chosen to be restricted!
Perhaps you’re too powerful to live the life of the convicted.

You gave up your majesty to die poor? Insanity!
Perhaps you’re too wealthy to crucify your vanity.

Rescue yourself! You’re God! Call on your Kingdom to save you!
Give up your rights. Perhaps you’re too brave to.

I was strong enough to come to the cross but not strong enough to get on it.
Why would I? It would slaughter my selfish ambition and confidently flaunt it.

I was brave enough to kneel before it but not brave enough die.
I was wise enough to admire it but not wise enough to bid myself goodbye.

I was mighty enough to bring my shame but not mighty enough to bring everything in my possession.
I was convinced enough to believe in the Christ of the cross but not convinced enough to make Him my obsession.

His indescribable love compelled me to have courage to climb.
I made my way up and lost everything that was mine.

He stretched out my arms and to His will and His way I am bound.
My feet are pinned. The Jade running after her own desires can no longer be found.

The greatest power I have ever known was found in dying to me.
Freedom that cannot be described, true freedom, is mine for Eternity.

I made my way onto the cross, in Jesus’ name.
In Christ, I found the courage to hang upon it, where all my loss becomes gain. 

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Death Has Died

Death, you have died, and I don't grieve.
I close the casket with no bitter mourning up my sleeve. 

I bring no note, no card, no flowers.
I read no eulogy to rehearse your past powers. 

I won't stay in the sanctuary and respectfully remember you.
No, I wont dare sit down and take my place in a pew. 

You won't find me with tears lingering at the reception. 
Death, you have died and with you, your deception. 

As I close the casket, what do I see?
Dead, with no breath to breathe, it's the old selfish me. 

Where Christ was hung, where He bled, where He died.
That's where the worst part of me was crucified. 

Death, you have died, and I lower you to your grave. 
I'm alive in Christ, the One who is mighty to save! 

I am dead no longer and no longer will I die.
Through Him and through His love, I am justified.

I wish that you could see that there is truth in what I’ve said.
But that’s not going to happen. You’re already dead. 


The trumpets blast. Many hit the ground.
Others are jumping. They are familiar with the sound.

The sky splits as He makes His entrance in glory and power. 
People begin to repent. It's too late! This is the hour!

Some shout with joy. Their King has come!
Some faint in fear. In a second, awakened from their spiritual slum. 

Some leap from the ground. This is what they always expected.
Some hide in the shadows terrified of what they never accepted. 

Grace cries out for those that believe.
Sin screams on behalf of those who are not qualified to leave.

Arrogance turns to terror, pride to shame.
"This is He! The One that has been given the name above every name!" 

"I didn't know He was coming! I didn't know it was true!"
Those that are left look around. Do they see you? 

He will declare, "I am Alpha and Omega. The Beginning and the End." 
He will snatch away His saints and each of their hearts He will mend. 

"Shhh..." they say. "This truth, don't tell."
He comes on the clouds to declare war on Hell.

With many crowns on His head, His eyes burn like fire. 
This is the One who uncovers and crushes the serpent, the liar. 

Some will remain, their sin exposed.
Some are left, their filth disclosed. 

As evil darkness invades the earth,
Many will regret the day of their birth!

There's only one way. It is through Jesus, through His blood.
Those that leave with Him have been washed in a rushing crimson flood!

Their righteousness, their deeds, their efforts are not enough.
It is only the blood! This alone saves us!

"I didn't know He was coming! I didn't know it was true!"
Those that are left look around. Do they see you? 

He is coming on the clouds with glory and power.
Call on His name! This is the time of salvation. This is your hour!

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Knees On The Ground. Head To The Floor.

Knees on the ground. Head to the floor.
This is why we sleep. We don't do this anymore.

Cries arise.
"Where is God as our world dies? That black book called Holy is full of nothing but lies."

Dreams in a book in a box in the corner.
"Let them die with the dust. I've lost my Restorer."

"Where is His love, His power, His Spirit?"
It's in that box in the corner. You won't go near it.

Why so drowsy? Why do you sleep?
You've let it sift from your hands that which you were commanded to keep.

A book we won't read.
A God we don't need.

Prayers we won't say.
A price we won't pay.

Love we won't give.
The Word we won't live.

Knees on the ground. Head to the floor.
This is why we sleep. We don't do this anymore.

"Where is God as the world falls apart?"
He's right where you put Him, asleep in the back of your heart.

"Where is God with the dying? Why won't He free them?"
The answers in you, but you live like you don't need Him.

"Look," they say. "Everyone is rotten."
No, it's not so, but their God they've forgotten. 

How did they forget? Why did they lose their sight?
Because we've worked hard at being silent, worked with all our might. 

Put your knees on the ground. Put your head to the floor.
Speak to your God. Pray to love more.

Go to the book in the box in the corner.
Open it! Read it! Find your Restorer!

A book we read.
A God we need.

Prayers we say.
Prices we pay.

Love we give.
The Word we live.

"Where is God," the cries arise.
But they grow ever weak as they see Him in our lives.

Put your knees on the ground. Put your head to the floor.
"Look! Their God is alive! I see Him more and more!"

Knees bent. Head down. Book open. Love alive.
Watch! As you humble yourself, your nation is revived!

Run to the One who through forgiveness made your soul soar.
Then put your knees on the ground and put your head to the floor. 

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Wake Up. Sleep No More.

You stay quiet like it’s a secret you’ve been ordered to keep.
The world slowly dies as you indulge in your sleep.

Cries spill out of the mouths of the hungry and the poor.
They suffer from the convictions you don’t believe at your core.

The sick die, as you do nothing with what you’ve been given.
A horrific lie presented in the comfort you live in.

You casually walk by slaves.
You blindly eat by open graves.

Wake up, oh sleeper! There’s a destiny you’re missing.
Come to life, you dead, it's Satan’s cheek of comfort you're kissing.

Resurrect from the grave of complacent existence.
Your silence and lack of action is Satan’s assistance.

Tormenting darkness is terrified of your love on display.
It whispers and sings lullabies to you. "It's easier this way."

Wooing you to sleep like a weapon from hell.
Hell forbid your testimony of forgiveness you tell.

Tell it! Shout of the grace that's washed away your sin!
Live it! Act like God Almighty has called you His friend!

For the sake of the lost, I beg you, awaken from your sleep!
I beg you, stop acting like Jesus is a dirty secret to keep.

If you've found Love and breathe grace in your lungs.
If you've been redeemed. If you speak in tongues.

If you believe the bible and believe the words in red.
If you believe your Savior resurrected from the dead.

If you've been healed. If you've been put back together.
If you've been forgiven. If you're going to live forever.

Wake up. Sleep no more.
They need you. The broken, the sick, the tormented, the poor.

Wake up. Put your feet on the floor.
Those you are called to, refuse to ignore.

Wake up, oh sleeper, arise from the dead.
Wake up. You’re the answer. Get out of your bed. 

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Not A Single One.

Fiery darts, trials, tribulations, lying tongues.
Not a single one will have power to steal the breath of purpose in my lungs.

Whispers of fears of failures that may come.
They only set me to running to finish the course I've begun.

Poke of a lie. Prick of a doubt.
Slaughter them both with a King's daughter's shout.

Images of darkness hover as a threat.
Your shadows only prove the Light so my mind is set.

A goal so evil, to penetrate my heart.
An objective so wicked, to rip my destiny apart.

But, here’s the thing. I’m not sure you knew.
I’ve already trampled over you.

Throw your accusations. Tell me all the wrong I’ve done.
I’ll redirect your attention to the blood, the cross, the Son.

You breathe lies. Each one a scorching dart. 
I stand, not running one step, as they soar toward my heart. 

I watch them fly, their flames getting bigger as they come close.
Fearless. Steadfast. For this battle, it’s me God chose.

The enemy’s jaw drops as the arrows fall dead in front of my feet.
Didn’t move an inch. Didn’t run. Didn’t hide. Still got you beat.

His eyes widen as he takes notice of The Sword lodged in his chest.
Thrown by simple confession. The heart of hell hasn’t seen my best.

You send your fiery darts in attempt to damage my faith.
But it’s interesting. They only serve to stir me toward my destiny. Checkmate.

Listen. No whisper. GREATER IS HE THAT IS IN ME.
You were thrown down. He was exalted, lifted on a tree.

Yeah, I’ve heard every lying word you’ve said.
But each one of them died when Jesus resurrected from the dead.

In Him, I always triumph.
Flip the switch. I’m the giant.

Fiery darts, trials, tribulations, lying tongues.
Not a single one will have power to steal the breath of purpose in my lungs.