Christmas

It's Christmas, and we celebrate the day Jesus came to be one of us. History will never be the same because of His willingness to do that. I pray that today we would keep it about Him. It's so easy to fall prey to the world's idea of this holiday and to give into selfish thinking. I think it's a point of attack, especially in families. But don't let us forget, Father, don't let us forget what you 've done for us. Let us give you the glory and love you deserve.

Him

He takes great delight in me. My Lover is jealous. He is pure and righteous. He won’t take His love away from me if I don’t deserve it. I must come to realize that His greatest desire is that I would delight in Him. I am most alive when I am in sweet fellowship with Him. Whether I am sitting down, dancing freely, laying in my bed, or working my head off, or writing, he surrounds me and is pleased. His pleasure is all that keeps me going. Why would I want to pursue anything but Him? Why else would I live this life, but for His plan? Life becomes richer when I know He is at the center. He takes all my cares and worries away and gives me a higher purpose. I want to be His close friend, to rest in His heart, to break when He breaks and breathe when He breathes. He is closer than my skin. I will never understand Him, but all I know is that it’s all about Him, and I want to know Him!

Wonder

What has happened to the wonder in this world? I see glimpses of it here and there, but shouldn’t it be a daily part of life? Why is it that when we become adults we don’t dream anymore? It’s not right. I want to live like a child but think like a mature daughter. I think of children’s stories—some of the most profound pieces of literature you will ever find. Don’t we all just want to be a “tree” pointing to God? But God comes in and says, “No, you are destined for much more. My dreams are bigger. Dream with me. You will not only point to me, you will make people think of me; you will be a reflection of me!” Wonder. Life is full of wonder. God is full of wonder. And his dreams are bigger than the biggest dream that could ever exist in our little hearts. Let’s live in his pleasure.

Rocked

Rocked by love. My life is messed up with God's pleasure. I'm drowning, and I'm so glad. I don't want my own life. Not at all. I want all of HIM!!!!! My heart has been awakened with love and directed toward purpose. I am finally just beginning to be alive and to know why I'm here. And I'll go deeper and deeper. And I'll trust. And I'll give. God, make me someone you can trust your secrets to. I will never compromise that cry. Let your fire burn in me!

Dance of Life

Dance the dance of love and worship. Worship: adoring reverence or regard. To dance my heart out for the King would be my greatest joy, because I love him more than anything. But what about the dance of life? Do I dance to my own tune? Do I withold my heart and soul from giving all when God's song is played? Why am I not satisfied? Because I am not dancing His dance. Because I am not giving everything. To dance with everything until my knees give way and I collapse to the floor would be "leaving everything on the field." In my life, do I do that? What if I were to live that way, leaving nothing? Becoming completely weak every day because I spent everything, only to be filled up again and again because I have been faithful. Talk about glorious living! Eden living! I want to see how God really first intended man to live; then I want to live that way. With all my heart I want to live that way.

Book Review

The Noticer by Andy Andrews

With all the pain and problems we experience as a society in our private and public lives, much of our time is spent searching for answers and solutions. Some give up hope unless someone happens to come along and redirect their vision and ultimately change their life. The Noticer reveals that we need more people like this. We need people who will look beyond their own pain to see someone else and offer them hope. In this book the main character Jones doesn’t seem to deal with problems of his own, but he is overflowing with wisdom for very common life circumstances.

I agreed with all the advice and “perspective” that Jones gives in this book, and I appreciate how practical and applicable it is. This isn’t just fiction. It is something, that if put into practice, could change the way you live and treat others.

One of the only “downfalls” in the book is lack of character development. To me, almost all the characters seemed to talk the same. It was difficult to imagine what they would look like or act like at times that would be unique from the other people.

If you love stories, people, and inspiration, this is probably a book for you. It does not have the most dynamic feel to it, but it is definitely powerful if you let it be.

Liberty's Garden

The day the rider came to report the casualty was the day I discovered life was not as it seemed. It had never happened before—not in my lifetime at least. All I remember is watching my father crumple in the doorway as I stood still on the cobblestone pathway leading up to it. I had heard the sound of hooves coming down the road and had rushed out to meet the rider, my yellow dress and light brown locks trailing behind me in the wind. But the look on the majestic messenger’s face had stopped me dead in my tracks, and when we both heard the news it struck my father more than it could have anyone else. I watched helplessly as he buried his head in his arms and let the sobs overtake him. I really had never seen him cry like that. It broke my heart and caused me to love the fallen man just as much as he did. Well, maybe not quite as much, but I got a glimpse of my father’s love that day, and it forever changed my life.

My father was the most devoted gardener in the whole world. I grew up under his care and attention just like one of his precious flowers. The garden on the side of our house was the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. People from all over would come to get refreshed and sometimes redirected. Papa loved visitors, and I loved to watch the way he would gently lead them into the gated haven of brilliant color and babbling fountains. I knew what would happen in that garden—people discovered who they were. Papa would whisper into their ears, walk with them, listen to their dreams and desires, hold them in his strong arms as they found rest from their burdensome lives, and breathe purpose into them. I knew because I went in there with him all the time. I even helped plant some of the flowers.

When I was five years old I began to understand why the people that had come to papa’s garden would later return to knock on our front door. It was because he had sent word for them to come and receive equipping for the battles. The strange thing was that I watched almost all these people come and go, and afterwards they always looked just the same as when they had come. The men would come in their business suits, their jeans, their sports uniforms, etc, and the women in their dresses, their high heels, or even with pregnant bellies. No one left with any visible armor one would think would be useful for battle, but they all left with smiles on their faces and determination in their steps. I once asked papa what he gave the people when they came. He took me in his lap as we sat in the library together and this was all he said: “Well, baby, I give them strength, I give them courage, but most of all, I give them love. Love is our greatest weapon. No enemy can stand in the midst of its power.” I just smiled as he reached behind him for one of his ancient story books he used to read to me every night before heading to bed. I fell asleep in his arms to the sound of his voice.

Sometimes I would get scared. The sound of thunder, the loneliness of the dark night, or merely fears about the enemy coming to get me caused me to tremble. At times I would call out to father; other times I wouldn’t because I would forget he was there to help me. But he always came. Every time I was scared he took me to the garden. It didn’t matter if it was pouring rain and the lightning flashed through the trees—he never failed to wrap me up in a wool blanket and carry me out there, where he would hold me and remind me he would never leave me and that I really didn’t have anything to be afraid of. He would say, “Remember who you are, Liberty! You are my daughter, and this is the garden where our love has grown and where so many others have come to get a piece of the freedom that is here. When people discover who they are, they are free! Remember who you are and who I am, and never be afraid.” Then he would kiss me on the head and rock me until my heart stilled. The rain didn’t usually stop, but it didn’t matter as long I was in papa’s arms and I knew the true beauty that surrounded us.

I knew my father’s job was important, but I didn’t know how important until the day we encountered the solemn rider. That was when I was eight years old. He had come straight from the battlefield. He pulled up, clearly out of breath, and looked sadly into my expectant face. Then he spoke to me.

“Hello, Liberty. May I speak with the King please?” My little heart skipped a beat.

“The…the King?”

“Yes, the King your father.” My eyes widened with realization and I wanted to rebuke myself for not seeing it before. Had he wanted to hide it from me? Or did he just never feel the need to tell me?

“Please, Liberty, I have urgent news.” The man’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, sir, I’ll get him right away.” And off I ran back into the house to fetch “The King.”

“Papa! Papa! A rider is here! A messenger!” My voice echoed through the halls as I ran throughout the house until we collided and he caught me with his hands. He laughed, bent down, and smoothed my hair behind my ear. I didn’t smile. Instead, I looked deeply into his eyes to see if there was anything different about him. He wore regular clothes—faded jeans and a long sleeved white button down shirt with the cuffs rolled up. His brown hair nearly reached the end of his neck. He was handsome, but I never thought he’d be a king. Sure explained a lot though.

“I’m coming, sweetie. Tell him I’m coming.” This time I smiled, quickly turned around, and ran back out of the house.

When I reached the messenger, his horse seemed uneasy and the rider’s eyes were averted as if his mind were elsewhere. I was out of breath from running and had my hands on my knees.

“He’s coming.” Almost the moment I said it father appeared in the doorway behind me. He spoke right from where he stood.

“Gabriel! What news do you bring, my friend?”

Gabriel, the rider, immediately flung himself off his horse and gallantly bowed.

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid I bring you dire news. One of your soldiers, Kaden, has fallen to the enemy.” And that was exactly when I watched my father become overcome with grief. He attempted to speak through his tears but was unable. I could see he was trying to thank the man. Something happened to me in that moment. I grew up a bit and felt the courage to speak for my father.

“Thank you, sir. I believe he wants you to go back to your post, but he’s thankful for letting him know.” Gabriel dipped his head solemnly and rode off into the distance to resume his duties. Ever so slowly I approached father as I witnessed his body convulse and saw what a broken heart looked like for the first time. I put my small hand on his shoulder, sat down next to him, and wrapped my other arm around his back. His right hand gripped the one I had on his left shoulder, and we both wept together. I didn’t know why I cried—I just had to.

Later that night we sat in the garden together, enjoying the color and fragrance of the flowers, and feeling the cool breeze whispering through our hair and kissing our faces. I finally worked up the courage to ask father my question.

“Papa, did that man Kaden really die? And did you love him very much?”

“Kaden was my son, just as much as you are my daughter. And yes, he died in battle. But this was a different kind of death—a death of the soul. Kaden has become prey to the enemy. He has chosen their ways over mine. He has rejected my love and virtually killed himself. But all hope is not lost. He can still choose to come back.” Papa’s voice was so gentle and full of wisdom. I had so much more to ask him, but I didn’t know if I should save some questions for later. Yet papa broke through my thoughts as if he knew what I was contemplating.

“Liberty, we grew this garden together so that people like Kaden could come, discover who they really are, believe it, and be free. Come alive, like all these flowers. I want to give you this garden as your place of influence. Next time, you will lead the weary traveler into its gates and show them love, and give them courage, and breathe purpose into them.” The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together, although I knew from that point on I faced a lifetime of discovery.

Freedom. That is the word. What does it require? Almost nothing, or everything? Maybe both. Because if we give our lives for one purpose, and one purpose only, there won't be much left to worry about.

The Squirrel and the Hummingbird

There once lived a squirrel who wanted to fly. He had heard of flying squirrels before and dreamed of becoming one himself someday. The only problem was that they were not known to live in the area in which he lived. One day as the squirrel was climbing up his favorite tree, he saw a beautiful and rare sight that caught his eye. Could it be? Yes, it was a hummingbird! Wait, he thought to himself. There are no hummingbirds in this part of the country. Where did she come from? The squirrel watched in wonder as those wings fluttered nearly a hundred times per second and longed for his own set of wings. He asked the hummingbird how she learned to fly, to which she responded, “Well, I simply watched other hummingbirds do it and believed I could too!” With that, a determination rose in the squirrel and he rushed to the end of the branch. “I will be a flying squirrel!” he shouted out to no one in particular. And with that he leapt off the branch and flew all the way to a branch on the other tree. In that moment, the squirrel’s dreams had become a reality. He defied all odds and became a flying squirrel.

-“Seeing is the first step to being.”

Words

I believe it is time for another blog entry. It is difficult to know what to write sometimes, you know, to get my words out on the screen. I will just mention some words that have been coming to my mind and heart lately. Satisfaction. I am not satisfied. As much at times this may feel like a bad thing, I have to believe it isn't. Someone mentioned today that God is going to fill our hunger. I'm opening up my heart and expecting that. Although unsatisfaction may cause frustration, may God turn those feelings into an unrelenting spirit! Broken. I can't get it out of my head. There is a song called "Broken" by a band called Lifehouse. It keeps playing through my head, because I think there is something so much deeper in the words, and something needs to be done with that song. Broken is both a good thing and a bad thing depending on the person and the circumstance. Escape. Escape from a life not worth living, a life full of dull, meaningless pursuits. Escape into Father's love and so much more. I want everything He has to give.

First Day of SPA

For those of you who may be wondering, I am not doing a year of spa treatments. The word spa has now become synonymous with the School of Prophetic Arts, of which I began attending today. The kickoff was incredible. Last night we were ushered in with a flood of prophetic words from our teachers who have already been investing their lives into this venture. The vision has been cast and now all we have to do is pick it up and RUN with it! Or FLY, as Miss Marcy would say. There is such an anticipation and excitement about what is unfolding. Nothing like this has ever really been attempted before. But truly, it is time to take back the arts for the One who originated them all in the first place. It is a great privelege to be one of the firsts to go through this school.

Follow Me!

Can you hear

Our Creator’s call?

He’s crying out

“Follow me!”

But only those

Whose eyes can see

Whose ears can hear

Will hear the sound

Of his cry in the air.

Follow me!

You are my bride!

My delight,

Can you sense your destiny?

It’s calling you

As it is calling me.

Do not fear.

Do not feed on hopelessness.

I am here

As I have always been.

I, your lover

The one you celebrate

Day and night--

My faithful ones,

You’ve never lost sight

Of the reason

You were put on this earth.

And now, follow me

As we march above the fray

For this is the day

My lovers will hear me say

You are home.

Do not delay;

The time is ripe.

Hear the noise of battle--

I have already won this fight!

There may be sorrow;

There may be pain,

But reward awaits

Those who do not stray.

So keep your eyes ahead;

Follow me when all you see is death.

Be swallowed in the depths

Of my laughter.

Dry your tears;

Put aside your questions

And your many fears.

I have not abandoned you all these years.

Here I am

On my steed of white

Come to capture

My glorious bride.

Follow me!

We Have the Best Dad!

I had a revelation today. And that is this: that God is good! We have redefined "good" as a generation I think, but God is good in the purest sense. He's good because He is a Father! Don't get me wrong, not all fathers are good, but what makes a father bad? He might be abusive, angry, a drunk, maybe because of past hurts or generational sins. He makes bad choices. Can God do those things though? No, because he doesn't have generational strongholds to overcome or sins to be cleansed from. He is perfect. And so He is good. Like the Bible says, a good father would never give a stone to his child who asks for bread. The Father has THE BEST in mind for His children. I am His child; you are His child. What does that mean for us? Just something to think about...

A Tribute to my Oklahoma Friends and a New Phase

I met many amazing people this year who taught me a lot and who mean a lot to me. They were my brothers and sisters, my role models, my dear friends, my second, third, fourth, etc. moms, dads, and grandparents, and just some really good people. Thank you for being the friend I needed when all seemed hopeless or when I just needed to talk. Thank you for persevering and showing me that I can lead and love people to Christ. Thank you for helping me to see that all the investment and giving of myself is worth the cost. Thank you for not giving up on me or yourself. Thank you for being my dad and my mom when I needed it the most. Thank you for hugging me when I felt unlovable. Thank you for being my little sisters and trusting me to be your friend and someone to look up to. Thank you for trusting Christ in me and pulling out what I had to give from the Father. Thank you for loving me, and thank you for being a part of my growth. You know who you are, and what you have done and who you are should not go unnoticed or unmentioned. Bless you all as I move on, and know that you played a vital role in my life and will never be forgotten. I pray all of your journeys are filled with life, joy, and beauty.
And now I wait in eager anticipation for what this year and the following years hold. This will be just one more stepping stone to becoming the world-changer God wants me to be as I am trained in my passions like writing, and so on. Thank you everyone who has supported me and prayed for me while I've been gone, and CCK, it's so good to be back. Thank you for welcoming me so heartily.

The Start of Something New

I have posted on this new blog a few of my recent poems and a couple things I wrote this last year. There is a lot more I could include, but it will have to do for now. I am once again on a new journey in my life. This past year in Oklahoma City has been a series of ups and downs, but nothing I can honestly regret now. I learned once again what it is to give my heart. I learned how to lay down my life for the sake of another's freedom. I learned how to carry the heart of God even in the deepest pain. No, I did not always make the right choices, but God has the ability to use our weaknesses to his advantage. I would not take back this last year. I now look forward to a new season. Though it has been a difficult and somewhat painful transition, I am holding onto what God will have me do in this time in my life and keeping my heart open for whatever opportunities may present themselves both now and in the future. I have been incredibly blessed to have received multiple prophetic and encouraging words in the last year and am holding onto those and to the goodness of my Father to persevere. This year I will be attending the first year of the School of Prophetic Arts, which I am very excited for. God, take me on your journey!

Affection

My resistance dies

As I’m met by your eyes

Your embrace inspires

Affection which lingers

In my heart

When I’m torn apart

I melt with every memory

Of the times we’ve felt

The deepest devotion

To each other

In my shifting emotion

I’m found in the motion

Of your dance

Which ignites in my spirit

A fire—can you hear it?

It’s raging, exploding

With the wildest of pleasures

As I am accepted

By a love beyond measure

I’ll be lost here forever

But really I’m found

By a heart so abounding

In love and affection

With pride and attention

I’ll stay here forever

My affection

It lingers, it longs

To be thrust upon you

The first love that I knew

I always want to be with you

Touch

Touch me

For right now

It’s what I need

The pain is more

Than this idle sore

You see my need

Your truth I heed

For in this hour

I seek your power

My resistance dies

As I search to find

Meaning in the pain

Purpose in the fight

I melt beneath

Your gentle hand

Upon the cage

That holds my breath

Upon the home

Where all my thoughts rest

I can’t understand

At this point in time

I only hold on

So that light can shine

Everything in me

Wants to run

Wants escape

I’m a mistake

But I won’t defy

Your touch on my

Hidden heart

I think I can start

Touch me more

It never fades

I want to live loved

The rest of my days.

Child of God

I am a child of God. I can dance in my Father’s eyes. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Is he calling me pure? Because I think I’ve seen him. Not all of him—no. That’s impossible, because there is no end to him. But I am a child of God! Nothing is impossible for me. All problems are irrelevant, for he is always here with me, inside of me, to take care of them. Never let me take my eyes off of you again. I have nothing to give when my focus is lost. Instead of staring at limitations and hopeless situations, may I stare into your eyes. Your eyes are not empty. They are full of more than I can imagine. I can see your heart when I look into them; mysteries are revealed. Don’t let me shift my gaze. This is the time in history to gaze into God’s eyes. Much will be found there. Things we’ve searched for our whole lives are there. He has been staring into us since before our birth, always steadily wooing and drawing us, because he knows that what we need is there. His eyes are like an ocean full of treasures. Some of the treasures are only visible and beautiful after being refined by fire—the fire in his eyes.

How He Sees Me

Joy flooded my heart as I heard the words I had waited to hear for what seemed like a century. I always thought I would be alone. I would come to points in my life where I just accepted the fact and tried to be okay with it. But try as I did, it was to no avail. The same feeling kept coming back and I would drown myself in the tears I didn’t even know were locked up inside. I was never content. I knew I couldn’t go on like this. The emotion came in cycles it seemed until I was desperate enough to ask the only one who could truthfully tell me how he saw me. I just had to know. I am a seeker of truth, and any less might as well not even be mentioned in my book. It was the hardest thing to do, to ask. But it was the most beautiful day of my life when he answered. I wish I had adequate words to describe what he showed me, but it is beyond even my imagination. If you can, imagine everything you’ve always wanted to be, all the times you’ve dreamed and wished that you could be a certain way, because deep down in your heart of hearts you knew you were made for it. Think with me that you really are that person, because—and this might be hard to receive—you are! Those things you imagine about yourself if only you could be—that is exactly how your Heavenly Father sees you. That’s what he showed me. Now it’s my responsibility to start living the way he sees me. I couldn’t tell you why he would see me in such a way, but I know he does. The only word that would be able to give any kind of explanation is love. He loves me. He made me a certain way, and so the desires I have are right; if his spirit is truly in me then my desires and dreams line up with his.

Your Words

Flow through my hands

Like ink through pen

Spirit move me

And do it again

I need your power

To course through my veins

Love spill out on the page

And rearrange

All that I once knew

All that once controlled me

All that once defined me

Because that’s not who I am

Spill out

Tell me the truth

I search

My fingers anxiously await

What you would have to say

Not only to me

But to the lonely

Give me the words

To share with the hurt

The lost, the broken

And those who are rejected

Show me the truth

So I can pour it into them

My fingers await

Like an eager pen

In a writer’s hand

For the words to spill out

And replace worlds of doubt

Of lies, of sickness and drought

May your words bring life throughout!