Mouthpiece

I never had a voice. I didn’t think I was born with one. I just, you know, never talked. To me, a voice was not a part of my existence. Yes—I did notice everyone else using theirs, but I was different. I knew that right away. I wouldn’t talk, because nothing would come out. I have to be honest; I didn’t always like being different in this way, but really, what could I do about it? It was my reality, one that I had to face and live with.
There were times when people would actually talk to me, ask me questions, like they thought I might actually have the ability to speak just like them. The audacity! I remember my mouth starting to open, like it believed something would happen, but of course, nothing ever did. The person would leave me alone after that. Now they knew the truth. But it left me humiliated. I was doing just fine before they came up to me, coping with my lack of a voice just fine. But when that happened, it reminded me that there was something wrong with me. That it wasn’t really okay.
My name is Ellis. Growing up, I never thought that was significant. It was just two syllables put together to compose a label. My parents liked the sound of it. Too bad I could never say it. I never heard what my name sounded like on my own tongue. As I grew older, voices began to taunt me. Voices without substance attached to them. They would tell me there was something seriously wrong with me and I could never be loved on account of my absent voice. They told me that people felt sorry for me but that’s all they thought of me. They told me I should never have been born. It was horrifying. First I had learned to accept who I was, now I was ashamed of it. Well, it wasn’t hard to hide my feelings, being that I didn’t have a voice. I willed my face and my actions to disguise them as well. I got really good at that.
By the time I was an adult, I was a hopeless case. I trudged through life with no purpose, no passion, no love. I was virtually dead. I questioned why I had to be born, and I began to resent whoever had originally come up with that idea, and whichever genius thought it would be brilliant to make me without a voice. I lived in an isolated world of encroaching darkness. I could hardly even see the people around me anymore. It didn’t matter—they never noticed me now.
One day I lay on my bedroom floor and I sobbed. That’s right—I was finally letting it all out. This was my life, and I was not okay with it. So I sobbed. What else could I do? I wasn’t expecting an answer.
But then it came. Like an ocean wave, it came and crashed over me.
Not really an answer, just a name. My name. “Ellis!” The voice called. It had been so long since I had heard my name spoken, it made me weep harder. Someone had noticed me? Not only that, but I had never heard such a voice before. Beautiful, passionate, deep, it resonated within my heart, breathed life into the dead caverns. It seemed to call to me in desperation, in desire even. No one, no one had ever desired me! I could never have anticipated what came next.
“Ellis, I made you.”
At this bold claim, my heart constricted. Rage pushed itself through until I couldn’t contain it anymore.
“WHY?” I screamed. All my questions formed this one word.
At first it didn’t register to me that I had spoken. I was too overcome in my fury towards this creator who decided not to give me a voice. But then, I began to breathe. Fast, so that I was acutely aware of every inhale and exhale. And I realized that a word had come out of my mouth.
That’s when my world tipped on its axis.
My creator spoke again. “You ask why. Why? Because you believed the lies, my son. I gave you a voice!”
I was shaking now, but my rage was dying down. Could it be? I began to feel something like elation. Joy. I wanted to hear more.
“You are Ellis! Your name has always meant ‘mouthpiece of God!’ So speak!”
“CREATOR! I LOVE YOU!” My first words of love. Oh, how beautiful, the feeling of them coming up through my throat and escaping through my mouth. All I could do was laugh.
My name is Ellis. I walk in the light. I know my God. I know my Creator. They are one and the same, and He made me to be his mouthpiece. You might hear me sometime, so keep your ears open.

A Foretaste of my Novel

Louis showed up “fashionably” late. Ian guessed it was something someone with his wealth and reputation could get away with, and even be respected for. He rolled his eyes when Louis explained himself, but then gave him a tight-lipped grin. He didn’t need him on his bad side, after all. Ian grabbed a chip, casually tossed it in his mouth, and leaned back against the booth seat, crossing his arms and studying that smile glued on Louis’ face.
“Louis, Louis, Louis. Never thought I’d see you again.”
“Well, I’m 'ere.” Louis took a chip and heaped a pile of salsa on it before crunching down on it, still smiling all the while, even while he chewed.
“I see that. So… how’s life?” Louis laughed.
“Better than I could have ever asked for, mate. And getting better every day. There’s a reason I came to find you, you know.”
“Why, you missed your best friend from Lansing?” Ian replied with a smirk.
“Well, there is that…” He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table and finally lost the smile. “…But really, Ian, I just wanted to see you happy again.”
“What do you mean? You haven’t even seen me in what—eight years? And why would you even care? Explain yourself, bro.”
“Ian. I know what happened.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Louis had grown way too serious in the past ten seconds.
“Yes you do. You know, the incident.” Ian did know what he was talking about. But how could he know?
“How did you know about that?” he asked defensively.
“Like I said, mate, I have my ways. It’s a small world.”
“You have no right!” Ian raised his voice in anger. “You have no right to pry into my personal life when you haven’t even been here for me for the past eight years! I’ve put that part of my past behind me, Lou. It’s gone. I’m never ever gonna revisit it.” He toned down. “There’s no need to.” He paused, letting the anger boil down. “Why are you here Louis? What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want anything, Ian. I know how you feel, an’ I jest want to help you in the way I know I can.”
Were those tears welling up?
“No one can help me, Lou. I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
“It’s not too late. I just need one thing from you, mate.”
“What?”
“Your trust. Let me be your friend again. Remember old times?”
He did remember. He also remembered how much it stung when Louis left without promising a return visit.
“How do I know you haven’t changed? How can I know you’re not a completely different person than I knew?”
“Are you that suspicious of everyone?”
Ian let out an exasperated sigh and put the palm of his hand to his head, as if that would cease his troubled thoughts spinning out of control. He closed his eyes.
“Look, Ian. If I wanted to use you in some way, I wouldn’t have come back. Believe me, there are easier ways to screw with someone than to move all the way from London to Lansing to be near ‘im. I’m here to help you. Now do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”
Ian opened his eyes. “Cus I’m not worth your time if I don’t?” It was more of a statement than a question.
“You’re nearly impossible! You are worth my time. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I spent enough time with you to know your potential, mate. I don’t want your past to mess with who you could be anymore.”
“Fine. If you really care, you’ll be the first. What great ideas does the infamous Louis Landers have to better my life?”
“Believe me, friend, once I tell you, you won’t regret hearing me out.”
“Out with it, then.” Louis took a deep breath.
“One thing, Ian—you have to be very honest with me first.”

Wall

When is it okay to just be? Why am I not satisfied when I can’t seem to produce what I want to? Is it okay to be unproductive? I don’t know why I hit these walls sometimes. I don’t know if God is trying to tell me to rely on Him or if He just wants me to do nothing and receive from Him. But then, what if I can’t hear His answers? Why do I lose the inspiration that makes my heart beat, that gives me courage for another day, that fills me with the purpose I need to keep going? Is it resistance? Warfare? Or am I supposed to stop sometimes and be okay with it? Though I know the truth, I don’t seem to have answers to these questions. I’m a writer. Writers reveal truth, open up new perspectives, test what we all know. Sometimes I feel that all I have to write is more questions. Sometimes my thoughts can go no further. Sometimes I’m at such a point of desperation that all I can do is sit and feel nothing, do nothing. Is that desperation, though? If I am desperate, am I supposed to show it in some way, to actually do something? Are desperate people passionate? Or are we desperate because we lack passion? I long for the time to do what I know I’m made for. So why is it that whenever I am given the hugest chunk of time, I cannot get anything out? Rather, I seem to be more inspired when I barely have a moment, or when I feel too pressured to actually create. Why am I not inspired when I have wide open spaces? Even when I’m crying out to God to anoint me. Am I not putting in enough effort? Or do I simply need to stop and wait for God to show up and fill me again?
I’ve run dry. I’m not sure what to do when this happens. I know God will show up, because He always does, but what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Am I wasting my days? Or do I just need to hear His call, tune in to His drawing, and come be with Him? Maybe He’s trying to tell me something. If you are God, help me to hear!

Living

God is at work in my heart. I feel like He’s probing, pushing on sensitive spots. He’s showing me what to live for, but seemingly only revealing little glimpses, small images or words that pull at the deepest parts of me. It’s hard to find the right words, but I just feel like He’s calling me to live my life in a different way. It starts with the way I think about myself. Then way I think about God, others, life, and the future. Our thoughts truly do create. And I want my thoughts to create in me the life my Creator intended for me to live.
I don’t know what the future holds, but it’s exciting. I don’t want to forget that. But I don’t want to think so much about what’s to come that I miss what’s happening now. What I am to do every day—right now. There is no greater call than to love people. And if that’s all I have to live for, that’s enough right now. To show God’s love in whatever way I can. To give. To give, to give, to give. I have so much to give. I am asking God for more outlets. But I know He won’t open doors unless my heart is ready, so that’s what I’m asking first. That I might know His love, that my heart may be turned away from selfish thoughts and towards God’s purpose. It’s all about Him. There are so many lines like that that we have turned into clichés. But do we live them? All I know is I want to live all the truth I’ve been taught my whole life. I want to live it now. I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to take the time to stop and listen to someone’s life story, to really care. I want to be willing to have my heart broken by knowing what someone else has gone through. I want to risk the pain of knowing and caring about other people. And I need wisdom and guidance in it all. God speak! I want to hear you—all the time. I’m desperate. Something calls to me deep inside. I can’t pass life by. Life is now.

Trust Dance

Her muscles strained, employing her entire being to push out the last move. It had to be the most important one, the one that revealed the most, said the most, exerted the most passion, left the audience feeling vulnerable and responsible. But it was the most difficult, the one that had been the most challenging to practice, the one that had taken her months to be confident enough to attempt. The one that took the most trust. Contract, kick, ball change, turn—
Reach, and arch, one leg in attitude.
Peace. The moment lasted longer than it was intended to, at least to her. Finally, at the end of the dance, in her final moment, the completion of all her effort, she gave up. At last, she was not in control. The music swelled and guided her, and someone greater than her held her, became her strength. She smiled out of genuine joy and rested in her Creator’s arms. The One who made her to dance, the one who delighted in her even if she had made a hundred mistakes throughout the piece. She could finally trust that she could hold this last move and not fall. And in this holy moment of trust, she knew every man and woman attached to every eye watching her was beholding a miracle. The miracle and the beauty of dependence. They were not watching a young lady dance anymore, they were in fact beholding their very own Creator delighting in his Creation.
She felt the moment could last forever. But it didn’t. She slowly completed the dance, coming out of the arch, extending the leg, then down. She exited the stage feeling transformed. She had been held by her Creator. She had known his approval. She had reflected his beauty and his likeness. She was living her purpose. She was alive. And she was in love.

Whole and Healed

The darkness seeps in like a thief in the night
It overtakes the light, silent without a fight
How can it win, when I’m hidden in Him?
I question this life, this hope, why I live
And confusion creeps in, telling me I’ll always sin
I hear the lies but no words, they just shape my life
Overcome by deception, no way out of my plight
Where is the truth? Does what I’m hearing got proof?
Where to turn, where to look
You say Your Face is everywhere, but I can’t see it

But You reach down, grab my darkened heart
So I know You never left, I just felt we were apart
The light blazes, instantly overtaking the darkness
It stands no chance when my mind and heart believe
When I can see again, and hope remains my friend
Your love always pulls me through, I know I can trust You
With every broken piece, every false identity
For when You speak the truth I hear and I declare
That I am different than what I thought, ‘cus those were only lies
You’ll never leave my side, I’ll follow you to the end
Jesus, you’ll always be my Brother and my closest Friend
One I can rely on, lean on, depend on
And Your light, Your truth will trump the darkness that tries to steal
The life You’ve given me through Your blood, which can never be concealed
In You I am whole and healed.

Going Back...

Never give up. Be a history maker. You are a hero in your generation. Worship with abandon. Give your life to the cause of the Gospel.
This is what I grew up hearing. I heard it from my parents, I heard it in my school. In my church. I heard it calling to me in the music I worshipped to.
I believe God prompted me to pull out an old Noel Richards tape. No, that wasn’t a typo. I really mean tape. I think sometimes we disqualify some spirit led authentic music merely because of its antiquity. I grew up listening to Noel Richards and others like him, on fire, radical passionate men and women whose mantra was “We will never back down. We’re in love with God and we are not afraid to tell the world.” As a little child, I heard that coming through the songs they sang and sang along to myself. They almost became anthems of the spiritual life of my childhood. We’re dangerous people. Keep on praying. I do believe. I’m gonna be a history maker. Dance in the River. Simple truths and analogies that captured the heart of a simple little girl.
I remember when I was little and I was at a worship service at church. I remember this specific moment when I was watching a lady worshipping. She was so passionate, so wrapped up in praising her Lord, and it struck me. I wondered how someone could be so excited about God. Little did I know that I would grow to gain a more full understanding and gratefulness for all God is and did for me, but in that moment, my heart began to seek. I remember other times of worship when there was just this sense of wonder. I felt at home; I felt like it was all right somehow. I remember when the songs, or in reality, the Holy Spirit, caused me to worship, and I didn’t always know why.
But God was awakening my little heart. I felt like I was joining a movement, something really important that I knew I would be a part of my whole life. Over time, it became more exciting, and I began to understand how people could get so excited about God, even more than ice cream or sleepovers or vacations. I know that He was doing something big at that time when I was a little child in the 90’s. I know I’m young, and to some, that was not that long ago at all. You are adults now perhaps, and you were adults then, like my parents. I know you saw things that I didn’t. It’s just interesting because children see the world in a unique way. I don’t remember everything, but I can remember the sense of wonder. The sense of being a part of something great. An exciting adventure that I was born for. The incredible truth is, I’m still a part of it. Only my perspectives have changed.
Perhaps I need to get some of them back.

My Journey of Seeing

Each time something significant comes to an end, I realize more and more how much it really isn’t the end. High school graduation was the first end. That felt like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Exciting, but emotional and uncertain, with a lot of insecurities lingering inside. Then came the end of being a student in Master’s Commission. It felt like the end of my life at the time. Overly emotional, a sense of loss but gain, lots of crying, for days. I didn’t know how I could go on without those covenant friends around me 24/7. But God drew me, and slowly but surely I could see it was not the end. Oklahoma was next. Leadership. A hard year, for sure. When that ended, there remained some regret, a lot of fear about the future and what it would look like to come home after so long. But I did begin to see that there was a lot ahead of me to look forward to, I just was afraid because I could not see it clearly. Coming home turned out to be one of the most difficult seasons. I missed people and the state terribly, but the hope of looking forward to the School of Prophetic Arts kept me going. (It was really God that kept me going all the time, of course.) After the first year of SPA, I understood even more how it was not the end. It was still only the beginning of all God wants to release in and through my life. I realized how much training I still needed to be all God wants me to be. I was being propelled into my calling. This time, I just knew it was not the end of SPA. I had to do another year. And I had to take dance. There was something in it for me I knew I could not pass up. Well, I have no regrets. And even though in some ways it does feel like an end, this time I know it’s not. I am being launched. Once again, I cannot see everything absolutely clearly in my future, but this time I know I am not lost. God is faithful, as He has always been, but my eyes are finally open more than ever to that fact. All I have to do is trust in His good plan and His higher ways. There is grace for every moment, if I take every step in obedience to His voice. I am not afraid anymore. I will take this world by storm with the love of God, His way, in His time, for His glory. It’s only the beginning. I am so grateful. I am overwhelmed.

Beautiful

Dry, crusty ground
No life to be found
She kneels down undone
Surrendered, broken, her head to the dust
Tears break through
And wet the desolate earth
A tiny sign of life

Her heart speaks:
I am broken
A daughter yes, but I see what I am
Without Him
My pulse lacks life
Unless He’s near.
I cannot fear
I cannot hide
I must embrace exposure
And let your life grow inside

A simple breath
She knows He’s near
All around is lifeless
But He whispers in her ear
This whisper produces hope
And where once a tear had soaked
A stem begins to appear

A sign of life!
She can hardly believe
That Father could grow
Something out of her zero point

Slowly she rises
Aching, but looking towards
Her source of life.
He shines down light
And her eyes come alive

She lifts one arm
Now the other
Her feet shift and begin to move
Now she’s spinning
Laughter overtaking her
And the stem becomes a flower

As she dances around
It grows higher
And shoots colors
She’s never known
Into the atmosphere
Until everywhere
There is life and growth

She dances now in freedom
Her smile aglow
Basking in the beauty
That only He could have made
Out of the broken shell that she was.

“You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust. Oh, you make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us…” by Gungor

Shouts of Deliverance

“You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance.
Selah.”
-Psalm 32:7

A whisper erupted deep from her soul. “You are my hiding place…”
Her throat burning, the tears finally escaped their fragile prison. The fear weighing down her heart like physical pressure was too much to bear. She had nowhere left to go, and they were coming. She could hear her pursuers, but she was incapable of getting away. She herself was in a prison, a fortified one built strong over years and years of decision and unfortunate generational circumstances. Now, though she tried to run from her enemies, she had come to a wall—the wall she knew she would reach but wanted to deny it. But now, facing it, she couldn’t. Looking up, she could see no end—it seemed to reach to the heavens and beyond.
She knew one thing in her life. There was One who was faithful, always. It was to Him she now whispered. She should have turned to him earlier, before things got out of hand, but her ego and self-dependence kept her from admitting her weakness. One thing about this Man was that one must receive His help, being willing to admit dependence even in times of strength. She now knew she was never truly strong on her own. She gave in to temptations every time until her “friends” revealed themselves as her enemies, right when it was too late to escape. She had built this world for herself. Born into it in one sense, but cultivating it her whole life until it consumed. She didn’t “reverse the curse” when she had the chance.
Her heart beat wildly as a storm began to stir the atmosphere. The trees nearby trembled in anticipation of the violent gusts, and the debris from the ground whirled around her like a mini tornado. Her pursuers were yelling, not too far off now, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. A storm. Would this kill her, or would her enemies? Her fear only doubled.
“You are my hiding place.” A brief calm lit up her heart, and she became aware of her breathing, which gave her hope. It was born, as if shooting out from seed, within her, while all around chaos, fear, and uncertainty reigned in their kingdom. She opened her eyes, and the storm picked up, whipping her hair into her eyes. She ran into the haven of the trees on her right, seeking to escape the wrath of the wind, hoping to hide from the ruthlessness of her enemies.
Then, piercing through her heightened panic, she saw a rock located on a small hill, not too far away into this forest. Focusing her eyes, she could see there was an opening. It was some sort of cave. A proper hideout? Once again, hope fluttered in her heart at the notion.
“You are my hiding place!” she said it to affirm this hope that unrelentingly kept poking its head out of the grave that was her life. She headed for the cave, determination rising up, ignoring the shouts and insults of her pursuers. For they were voices she could do without, always taunting, trying to drown out His voice with accusation after accusation.
No—she would not look back in fear. She would move toward her provided safety until she reached it.
The wind was against her. It knocked her to the ground several times, growing stronger every minute. But the cave was getting bigger in her sight, and she felt His hand guiding her there.
She finally arrived at the entrance to the cave, almost out of breath, but using the remaining air she had in her lungs to let out short bursts of laughter. The opening to the cave was wide enough for her to easily crawl into, but low enough to hide her from anyone’s sight and protect her from the harsh winds. She ducked inside. It was pitch dark, but there was light in her soul. She knew this was provision from the faithful One.
“You are my hiding place.” She waited in stillness for the storm to pass and for her enemies to finally give up their search. But she could now make out their screams more clearly. They were tempting her, taunting her, trying to evoke a response from her. But she said not a word, despite the pull. Here in this hiding place she could think more clearly, without distraction. She knew if she responded to the threats or to the promising alluring “pleasures” her pursuers offered, she would regret it, because she always did. The voices kept coming.
Until beauty pervaded the atmosphere. She caught her breath at the sound. It was a full-throated yell, fierce, furious, full of conviction and passion. It eradicated all the other voices, as if they had all shriveled up and died instantly. The beauty of the yell pierced her soul and awakened her spirit. It was a war call, an anthem of deliverance that seemed to go on for several minutes. She let herself drown in it. Transformation was carried in that voice. And she knew this—this was for her. This was the Man called Love. The faithful One. The voice carried on for however long He saw fit, then stopped, as if on cue.
Sweet silence engulfed her. No more wind, no more voices. Peace. She knew she was changed, standing there in that cave.
Then, to her shock, a hand reached through the opening. She could see it, for the light it cast overcame the darkness of the haven. It was wounded. It was inviting her to step out. When she did, the man to whom the hand belonged embraced her firmly, and they both exchanged tears of joy. Love had gotten His beloved back. Then he spoke with authority, moving her onto a new path she would tread for eternity.
“The storm had to come, child, in order to lead you to the hiding place. Nothing that comes is without reason, and I am always with you. Now, go, listen to my voice, and bring my Kingdom to reign in this world I have placed you in. You have come home!” Joy lit up His eyes.

Father, my home is You. Selah.

The Take Over

He was at the end. He had nothing to give, nowhere to go, nothing to say. This moment was the culmination of his life up to this point—a time to reflect. A time to regret. To regret not giving more when he could have. Now it seemed his one gift to the world would be to rid it of his presence.
He was not a man without love. No—he had more love in his fragile heart now than he had ever had before. He loved his world. He shared its pains and loads, heartbreaks and tender moments. He was like anyone else. But he could not help anyone else. He lost his chance. No one trusted him enough to even receive from him. He was an outcast. It was a world full of outcasts, though. This he now knew.
Oh how he longed, standing on the edge of the rocky cliff, to be able to do something great—to make some dent in the world. But his absence would be the biggest dent, for the people who knew him would be relieved. Relief was a gift so many needed. And the people who didn’t know him would never have to.
Wrong thinking? Maybe. But there was really nothing left. He could no longer see into the future—he had no future. He had tried everything and failed.
Spent. Empty. Lost.
He sank to the ground. The sun was setting, casting orange hues on the rock he knelt on. He could see his own shadow, taunting him. Why? Why didn’t you become a better person? Now you are only a shadow of your potential self, and you can never regain what you lost.
His now grown out hair blew in the wind. The air was fresh, but he didn’t want to breathe. The beauty around him threatened to tug at his heart, to pull him back into life somehow, but he resisted. Bowing his head, he slowly sank lower until his forehead touched the rough ground, no doubt leaving indents in his flesh. But that was the last thing he was aware of. As the memories flashed through his mind, the faces of the people he had hurt, the sobs overtook him, body and soul. He cried into the dust, his tears joining creation and becoming one more mark of a pained soul in this desperate world. Just one more. Would anyone care? Could his tears change anything?
He cried for the twins. He cried for Sarah. He cried for Mom and Dad. He cried for the homeless man whom he had always ignored until it was too late and he was found dead on the street. He cried for the brokenness of humanity, the brokenness of his own soul. He didn’t know how long he knelt or how long the sobs coursed through his body, but he didn’t try to stop it. No—something needed to be finished here. These tears must write the end of his story.
A sudden awareness of another presence awakened his heart. He took a deep breath and let out one last sob, a loud one. But he did not raise himself from the ground. He did not even have the strength to walk to the edge and jump. Apparently this would be his resting place. Maybe his own sorrow would kill him.
Stillness.
A whisper of movement, then a hovering.
Gentle contact.
Someone was on top of him, like a light blanket, almost comforting.
A perfect covering.
The man called Asher was no more. Another had taken his place. They breathed together as the wind stilled, and for once in his life Asher felt at peace. It was good to know he could not be seen, even if no one was around to see him.
Did he know this presence? It was somehow familiar, but new at the same time.
A voice came. Soft, but strong with conviction.
“My son, you have come to the end of yourself. This is how it must be. You must become nothing so I can become everything. Then, life will spring forth!”
Asher didn’t respond. What could he say? Wasn’t he already reduced to nothing?
“Let go, Asher. Let go of the regret and the pain. For even in holding onto those things you are still trying to grasp at meaning with your own effort.”
He began to cry again, this presence on his back becoming weightier. It was heavy, a relentless pressure but still comforting. Now a whisper.
“Surrender!”
The weight of the word caused him to lay flat on his stomach. Then—from somewhere deep inside, a guttural scream burst forth—
“I give uuuuuuuup!!” He said it into the earth, but it reverberated throughout the canyon, echoing back to his own ears. Then the strangest thing happened. It was as if the presence that was with him now became part of him. He had become something other than himself. He was lifted up from the ground and placed on his feet with a renewed vigor, a stronger heart. He looked down at the rocky surface that had recently become his altar, and one remnant tear escaped from his cheek and fell to the ground. Asher smiled, and it felt like breaking out of prison. He looked out to the beautiful horizon one last time, painted orange and purple and crimson, then turned and walked away into his new life.
Sometime later Asher, now reunited with his twin daughters and his wife Sarah, now living a life laid down for others, returned to the spot of his “take over,” as he called it. It was his first time returning to the sight since that night. And there, right where he had laid and cried, was a lone rose amidst the rocks. It was a color he had never seen before, as if from Heaven itself, and it stood out against everything around it. Life. Asher smiled to himself and thanked God that out of death had come life. He would make his dent in the world, and mercy would be the song he would sing.

Stirring

God is stirring within me. I won’t mask him, I won’t call him something else. Because when I invited him into my life, he came in. And now he is stirring. He lives inside, so when he breathes, I breathe. Sometimes I breathe differently because I forget to let him live. What a tragedy.
God died voluntarily to give us life—his life. If we think we are living when he is not, we are wrong. Dead wrong. So either we are dead or alive.
When God stirs, I must allow it. I must let him come all the way through, for only then will my life have any meaning or make any positive difference.
I am waiting. I am letting him grab a hold of my heart and make it beat again. It beats with beauty, it beats with pain, but it only beats when his touch lingers or his fingers work the blood through it.
Sometimes I think God cries, and usually we are not aware. I think he cries when we forget about him, or when we push him away because we believe we are not good enough for his love, or we don’t feel good about ourselves. I think he cries when we are insecure. I mean, how painful would it be if, with all your heart you desire to love someone, even to the point of being willing to die for them, and they don’t know it, or they forgot about your immense love, or they reject you out of their own pain. Where will your love go? You will still love, but that love will not find its proper home.
I want to let God make my heart beat. I am weak. I sin. I am selfish and I make multiple mistakes per day. But God does not change. If I don’t let him love me, I hinder the change I want to see in me and others.
I want to let God’s tears move me. I want to cry with him for those who have not yet seen, who have not yet known the intensity of his love.
Stir, God. Stir within—awaken me. Because if I want to truly live, you must come out. Thank you for your love. I commit to knowing it better, to seeking it out day by day as one starving.
I want to be like you.

Cover

What do you see?
What do you see??
Do you see my heart beating?
I feel it is dead
It is dead without Him
So please don’t see me

My weakness so plain
It weighs on my soul
But why do I care
If it’s for You, I’m told?

I want to be held
I want to be loved
I can only do so much
I’ve got to give up

Being loved is enough
Knowing Him is enough
I want to please Him
But I already do

My heart must believe
My soul must give in
To His relentless faithfulness
In the face of my reckless sin

My heart is so hard
I have a critical eye
I have negative words
My flesh needs to die

But You never fail
You’re strong and unmoved
So I am still used

I can’t comprehend
Your love so vast
It’s hard to believe
That You look past
But I guess to be
A good person at all
I’ve got to believe
That You are All

Shame and Art

We are each infused with the life and nature of our Creator, made in His image, set apart from all other creatures to think, speak, and live like God. Not to be God, but to be reflections of Him. How far we have fallen. Right? That’s what we would say. What a shame, what Eve did, what she made Adam do, that we now have fallen so far away from our original purpose. What a shame that we cannot be as we once were—whole, pure sons and daughters who lived in intimate fellowship with the One who breathes life into everything and who loves radically and infinitely.

What a shame.

And yet, something deep inside calls to us, pulls out of us a desire for things beyond this realm, for a life we seem to know but have never experienced. Many of us turn to art and creativity to try to express these deep unfulfilled longings. We are trying to get back to who we really are; we are trying to find the One we first fell in love with.

But we are ashamed.

Nothing comes out quite right. There are walls seemingly surrounding us, people gloating over us, failures and weaknesses taunting us. Sins we cannot master over.
A friend recently told me of a time she was talking to a leader in a church. This leader said that one of the biggest issues and hindrances plaguing our generation of Christian young people is shame. What an obstacle this has been! I think I know without even having to ask that we have all hid our faces in shame multiple times, probably even within the past week. And it is keeping us from moving forward, from emerging, from living beyond the status quo! Our destinies are being jeopardized by shame!
We want God to use us, we want to create beautiful things just like He does, we want to find His heart in our prophetic creations. But shame holds us back. We think we are not good enough to be used, that we have too many fears, make too many mistakes.

Why can’t we get past this?

It is because we feel like there is something wrong with us. We need the revelation that God knows we will mess up! But He does not see us that way. If we are born again, He truly only sees His Son. Because that is what He chose to see. And when He sees His Son, who gave up everything for His heart and glory, He cannot help but love. So you see, His love is never taken from us. If we will only confess our sins in openness and surrender them to His great love, He will take them from us. For good.

Shame is an unnecessary block to our growth.
It is a needless enemy to our creativity.

God can and will use all our broken pieces from our messed up lives to bring about good in our generation.
They are waiting. You know who some of them are, you don’t know who others are. But they are waiting for the sons and daughters of God to be revealed.
Let the Creator use your brokenness to set our generation free! Only He can do something so amazing. Stop hiding behind shame, because Jesus looks at us as if we have never sinned. There is no limit to what He can do with that!

Beginning

I'm at the end. I can feel the last fibers of the rope roughly slipping through my grasp. My weakness is amplified by the second as my only hope becomes mere threads. I know I will fall. And yet I hold on anyway. It is simply too daring to believe that there is anything beyond the yawning abyss below me. I am frightened, for what will happen when I lose control and fall into the unknown? Now only one fiber remains in my sweating fist, and I want to give up. Maybe what is down there is better than this barely surviving state. My shoulders ache, and my whole body is parched. I cannot take the pressure of hanging on any longer--it has consumed my focus, sucked life from me. Maybe the unknown could in fact be a glaring opportunity for adventure--a whole new realm where creativity thrives and true love pulses through hearts that are alive. A place where beauty awakens destiny and purpose. Will I find my Creator if I only let go? I'm at the end--so I have a decision to make. Will I let it happen to me so I confess my wrong because it is the only thing left to do, or will I willingly give up because I know already I have always been at the end of myself? I've heard it said that at the end of yourself is a beautiful place to begin. Well, here goes. I'm letting go. Creator--consume me! I'm falling into your abyss. I don't know what I will find, but I'm ready to be overtaken. I can't do this anymore, so I surrender to your love.

Fill

The pain wrought by life
Inflicting desperate souls
Tires aching hearts
Who can find their home?

No place where we belong
The love we find soon grows old
When will it ever stop?
Surrounded, why do we feel alone?

Pressed in on every side
Fake smiles exchanged, implying hope
Touches linger for moments
We wish we could hold

But we lose our grip before we can
Understand what it’s for
The memories fade
And somehow only pain remains

We look for something real
Every day, a search
But by setting of the sun
We forget why we even started

What can fill our aching hearts?
Who will hold us when we hurt?
Are we doomed to emptiness all our days?
Or is there hope that lingers, a sun with lasting rays?

Why would this question remain
If not there be an answer?
Why do our hearts awaken
At times, if no hope exists?

The calling of our Maker
Resounds inside each soul
We won’t find rest until
We know He is our home

So let Him love you now
Tell Him how you feel
When you open up
Every wound He will heal

He’s calling out your name
It is not you who can save
His mercy chooses, in pain
To reach to you, for your own gain

Give your life to Him
And your suffering will not be in vain
For He is worth the tears
And He’ll remain, through all your years.

I Am

I know the greatest story of all. I do not boast with conceit, for I do not consider myself to be the most qualified to tell of this story. Nevertheless, I know it. It is the greatest because it is the truest, proclaiming a longed for hope for all of mankind and the entire universe.
This story begins with an artist. An artist possessing many names, the most all-inclusive being I Am. This artist named I Am existed before time began, existed before anything else began. He was the origin of all life, of all meaning and purpose. He was the Three-in-one, living in intimate fellowship as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. He was fulfilled—he had no needs, though his heart was bursting with desires. He was so happy with his intimacy in relationship that he just had to give it away, to share it. He was an artist, after all, so in divine creativity he made something that never existed before—the galaxies and the Earth. He took great delight in creating so many different elements, species, and forms of life, with so many different colors, shapes, designs, textures, and purposes.
But his most prized creation was man.
Man would share in the sweet fellowship belonging to the Three-in-one. Man was made in the very image of I Am. Man would have a deeper purpose, a higher greatness, than he himself could even know.
But there existed evil. I Am did not create it—it was the disobedient choice of a high-ranking heavenly being who allowed pride to steal his devotion to the Originator. Lucifer was his name. Lucifer, now embodying evil itself, needed somewhere to spend his passions, his unfulfilled desires. So he chose I Am’s favorite creation, man, to corrupt.
Sadly, man fell for the deceptive beauty of Lucifer in Paradise, where he was tempted to disobey I Am’s single command. The one evil act led to another, and another, until man’s appetite for evil seemed to overtake his desire for intimacy with his Creator. The world was corrupted, and Lucifer thought he won the great battle.
But it was only the beginning.
I Am could not bear to be separated from his prized creation because of their evil choices. He was Love itself, unwilling to relent his deep passion for sharing his intimacy and fellowship. So he did the most painful, most humble thing of all—he sent the Son to become a man, from birth to death, fully man, yet fully the great I Am. His name was Jesus Christ.
He came to identify with man, to love the ones who hungered for evil, to teach the ways of the Father, to remind man of his original identity and destiny to walk with the Creator, to truly live. But man did not understand or refused to accept the teachings of I Am’s Son. Because it did not make sense to them that I Am would appear in human form they rejected his life-giving message and sentenced him to die.
But you see, it was I Am’s plan all along. There must be blood to atone for man’s sinful nature. It was the only way for man to again live in fellowship with the Creator. So The Father allowed the Son to be crucified, and to bear the burden of every sin in his own soul. I Am himself, the perfect one who always was, took man’s share of shame, blame, and punishment, just so he could be with him forever. But it was not the end.
Jesus rose from the grave, proclaiming victory and hope for generations of men to come. It is a high cost to follow I Am, but an even higher one to not. For what can we do when we know what it is we were created for? Is he worth everything to us? Can’t we give him everything we have, after he spent everything for us? It is truly the least we can do.
The story continues. Step in and discover your role.

Moved

I am moved by the breath of my Creator. My spirit opens up, and my body moves, guided by a strong hand at my back. I depend on him. I take risks, knowing he is holding me. I am safe with him. No evil can touch me. For when I open my heart to him, he invades me but guards me from negative influences. When I am closed to him, I am open to darkness.

Soften my heart of stone
Tear open my beating heart
So it beats for you alone
Open my unseeing eyes
So you can guide me on the path that’s right
So I can see your beauty is greater
Than the biggest obstacle
Beyond the realm of fantasy
Your glory
Your beauty
Your impossibility
Is what’s real
Move me
In your dance
For when I move in your presence
I know I am alive
You are good news
For we long for something real
Something beautiful
Something to inspire us
And you are real
And you are beyond our wildest imaginations
Right here
Right now
Taking us into your heart
Plumbing the depths of your love
Open me up
Close me off
To what’s evil and dark
So I can be the light you speak of