The River

I find myself drawn to The River. 

With its beauty and power, 

The River calls to me. 

The River can be known but not fully. 

Therein lies the mystery. 

The River has a voice, 

and I love the way it sounds.

Michael Neale - The River

may my heart slow

to quiet

so that I might hear

His whisper

peace, be still

still

.  
seeking still with Sandy

 

first glance

time once again seems to have donned wings

was it already a week ago

that I caught my first glance

of the river?

here

back in the chill winds

my spirit whispers

change

in ways I don't yet understand

something caught

held, reflected

by water I have not

touched or tasted

but breathed

 

calling Your children

While digging through stacks of old papers, in the process of cleaning I uncovered a scrap.

Lyrics to a song that has no melody but rhythm that resonates in my spirit.

Now that I have reclaimed it perhaps music will come forth.

You Are calling Your children to draw closer

You will gather us together

to sit around Your throne

You desire us all to linger in Your presence

You Are glory

You Are shelter

You Are home

You Are what we cry for

a love we've never known

all we've ever needed

is You and You alone

and yes, we will dance

when You ask us to dance

and yes, we will sing out Your name

our Father

our Savior

the Spirit of life

forever and ever the same

Let the Word of Christ—the Message—have the run of the house. 

Give it plenty of room in your lives. 

Instruct and direct one another using good common sense. 

And sing, sing your hearts out to God! 

Let every detail in your lives

—words, actions, whatever—

be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, 

thanking God the Father every step of the way. 

Colossians 3:16 The Message

renewal

time crushes, demands 

more than it gives

harsh wind pulling

away from my source

too much not enough

left me hard, brittle

disconnected

the call was thin, almost 

too quiet to hear

come away

leaving snow

and static behind

to breathe, washed 

by steady rain

heart pores open

made supple once more

finding my place elbow to elbow with the other poets today

 

unplugged

retreat, an act of 

withdrawing

a move toward

peace

slowing, stopping

seeking shelter

I am giving up

giving in

to silence, surrender

three nights

four days away

in the company of other

hungry hearts

my fingers tremble

on these keys

feeling the need for them

so deep

that I know

retreat is called for

even here

this laptop

this connection

will be left behind

that I might find

connection

of a richer kind

hanging out at the pub with the poets tonight

light source

The sun shall no more be your light by day, 

nor for brightness shall the moon give light to you, 

but the Lord shall be to you an everlasting light, 

and your God your glory and your beauty. 

Isaiah 60:19 Amplified

singing with Deidra and the Sunday choir

 

packing light

My life is the story of a man 

who always wants to carry too much. 

My spiritual quest is the painful process 

of learning to let go of things not essential. 

reallivepreacher.com weblog

as I prepare for a time of retreat

I desire to pack light

to carry less

so my hands are free to grab

whatever He offers

 I want to live

with open hands

and an open heart

 letting go

to lean in to Him

waiting in the quiet with Sandy

the corner tree

when I try to catch the changing light

or the wind in photos

the variable texture of life here

the tree on the corner is there

posing, announcing home

there, where the road curves

where we begin to leave our land

it stands 

sunrise to sunset

almost, but not quite hidden 

in fog

branches waving goodbye as we go

and welcoming us as we return

not very large

or particularly beautiful

but familiar

the day is coming

when we will take that curve

a final time

moving toward trees of a different sort

baobabs, palm, African teak

and I will be grateful

for photo memories

digital eternity

I'm linking to Lisa-Jo to talk about the word tree

 

all my colours

one week

seven days 

in the pre-dawn hours

I will step into a airplane in Winnipeg

and after a brief stop in Chicago to change planes

(impossible to think that was home for forty-three years)

I will step out in the Texas air, alone

to meet friends

unknown in the flesh

yet in deeper ways fully recognized

all they have is words I have shared

years of my heart bleeding here on screen

exposing all my colours

at the same time

instead of taking the path

both easier and more complex

of trying to change 

showing one shade at a time

to fit, blend in

or disappear into the background

am I nervous at this?

remarkably so

remind me then, Lord

my approval comes from You alone

and all the rest?

sweet icing on the bread

next week, by the Frio

when we all see each other 

heart to heart

eye to eye

face to face

I pray we will see You shining

 

jamming with Bonnie today

 

reflect and shine

Do you ever wonder if you possess anything useful to God's Kingdom?
I do. So I asked -
what have I to offer Lord to You and to the world?

I opened my journal and my heart to hear His reply:

Your willing heart and your availability are a gift to Me.

As you surrender and allow Me to do as I will, it matters not at all what you have for I Am able to use what I have, in you, through you.

It is your capacity to be empty.
To retain this gift you must release all pride.
Knowing it was Me Who stooped low, it was Me Who reached high.

Never claim a bit of the glory as your own.
Reflect and shine.

For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ. We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure.[a] This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. 2 Corinthians 4:6-7 NLT


walking with Emily in imperfection

 

warm side of the glass

on the warm side

of the glass I am

holding fast against

the wind

symphony of knocks

whistles, cries

leaves dance mid air

as branches crack

splinter on the narrow road

covered far too soon

with snow

hanging out with the poets today

 

new snow

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

I am finding rest 

in the silence and the beauty

of His new fallen snow

smoothing rough edges

coating the world with fresh

 

finding the stillness with Sandy

 

truth in weather

morning dawned remarkable

fuchsia streaking light

soon the sky was littered with flurries

did one option better display His glory

simply because I preferred it?

would I deny the truth

of His creation, His control

as the weather shifts

in ways not to my liking?

the rain is His

as much as the sun

the brittle winds

blowing at His command

the ground is covered white

yet there is beauty here

 

joining Lisa-Jo talking about truth

 

come away

in the early morning hours

while the world is yet asleep

there is a voice that whispers

deep calling to deep

come away My beloved

come away with Me

I crawled out of bed earlier than usual today.  I have neglected my journaling time with Jesus. I knew it was time to rekindle my desire to listen when He spoke these words into my spirit:

Would you hear what I hear?  Then listen.  There is too much noise of the world screaming into your spirit, clamouring for your attention, flash and splash and glitter.

Come away.  In the quiet, by My side.  Realign your heartbeat.

You dreamed of visiting a type of church, a place of beauty.  Photos were not allowed and all at once you understood - it was a place of holiness that could not be sullied or captured in worldly ways.

I have set you apart.  Don't allow the world to change that call.

 

thanks for all

I woke this morning singing 

words arising from my spirit

without forethought

words of adoration, words of praise

words of gratitude

I thanked Him

for love, for light, for life

I thanked Him

for His plans, His purposes

and continuing on

I even sang thanksgiving for pain

knowing I may be crushed

but never, no never destroyed

I woke this morning singing

words of adoration, words of praise

words of gratitude

We've been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we've been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn't left our side; we've been thrown down, but we haven’t broken. 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 The Message

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 NIV

walking with Emily in imperfection

 

the bent I

I am re-reading, slowly, a little gem of a book titled The Calvary Road by Roy Hession

To be broken is the beginning of Revival. It is painful, humiliating, but it is the only way. It is being "Not I, but Christ” (Gal 2:20), and a "C" is a bent "I." The Lord Jesus cannot live in us fully and reveal Himself through until the proud self within us is broken. This simply means that the hard unyielding self, which justifies itself, wants its own way, stands up for its rights, and seeks its own glory, at last bows its head to God's will, admits its wrong, gives up its own way to Jesus, surrenders its rights and discards its own glory - that the Lord Jesus might have all and be all. In other words it is dying to self and self-attitudes. 

strip away

layer upon layer

ashes and dust

scattering

and still

too much of me 

remains weary of the I 

stiff, hard, straight

aching deep

to be pliable

yielding

forgetting

to be bent

I must be 

broken

hanging out with the poets today

 

Send me

And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 

“Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” 

Then I said, “Here am I! Send me.”

Isaiah 6:8 RSV

Deidra is back and I'm rejoicing with the Sunday choir

 

know and be known

There have been many words this week

blogged confessions

about the two sided coin

of pride and shame

wanting to be seen

wanting to be known

social networks filled

with virtual head nodding

sighs, tears, hearts

on sleeves

I surprised myself

with an unusual choice

to remain silent

exposing fragile emotions

not to the world

not to myself

but to the One

Who formed me

His reply was swift

and brief

be still

know and be known

let My glory be revealed

finding the still place with Sandy