// parable of the tiny kernel //

There was a man who searched for many years to find something that was worth his life's work. He began to grow jaded, disillusioned with what the world had to offer. In disgust, he moved to the country  taking a little, secluded farmhouse and completely abandoning the brilliant, scholarly world he had once inhabited.

While he was cleaning out the barn, deep within the feed bin he found one, tiny kernel. Seized by a sudden impulse, he took it out and planted it, placing markers around it so he would remember its location. He didn’t think much more about it but continued his labors, tending it occasionally when he found many weeds grown up or if the weather was dry. Later in the year, it sprouted and grew into a tall, vivid stalk of corn. He ate one piece and was astonished by the satisfaction he found in its flavor. He saved the rest to plant the next year.

When it rolled around he did so. Instead of just one plant, several grew. This went on over the years until his original kernel had multiplied into enough to feed a village. Then he had enough to spread across the countryside. Eventually, his variety of corn had become so well known it was in demand around the world.

By now, the man had grown old. And he realized that, at last, he had found the truth for which he had sought. 

A little kernel can grow and touch the world. Tiny bits of truth, kindness or corn can have an impact far beyond their size if one only takes the time to cultivate and spread them.

// burden //

sometimes the weight of humanity
(including my own)
weighs down my little soul
until it practically sickens me.

If my finite self can be so
crushed with the futile tragedy
of the depraved rejectors of their only cure

how on earth or in the heavens above
must Christ have felt
He who knew no sin Himself
who wasn't only a reawakened dust-mote
but the All Encompassing, bound in a body

how must it have felt to have
 all the massive sin of everyone, everywhere
for the entire span of time
on His shoulders?

Perfect holy shoulders,
streaming blood.

How could they not break
under just one breath of sin?
How could he be willing to
walk beside man and his fallenness
let alone bend under it?

If we could comprehend-
Oh, for the grace to ever truly
appreciate and feel it-

we would be a different
people. Our burden would be
a different one, more profound
and yet lighter.

How can we point our noses and
play at church
when God let sin touch
Himself for our disgusting selves?

written January 11 2016
xxx I've been debating over posting this for a long time...  I don't want to sound judgmental, especially towards the end, because believe me, I'm talking to myself. Always talking to myself. Here it is, anyways. xxx

//what do i know?//

via pinterest

I start to write of things I've never known. But then I remember-
"write what you know."

what do I know?

I know of lonely nights, reproving your mind and trying to pray
sleep coming, like a reprieve,
like a 'take 5' from your feelings.

i know of being happy over something silly
and sad over something sillier.

i know of hating and loving yourself and
the world, wanting to fix both
and not being able to
do either.

But all I need to know, and want to know better,
is that God is bigger than anything I know. He is more than those things,
the answer to them all.

This
I know

from my 'diary', Feb. 1 2016

(how often do you think I should post? do I post too often? I mean, I personally devour other peoples posts as fast as they can write them, but for someone new to my blog there are kind of a lot of posts to go through. thoughts? thanks. )

// doubts //

I wish I could get rid of it.

The vague sense of uneasiness

The tiny whisper inside that

no matter what I'm doing

it's wrong.

I'm wrong.

And when it grows into a persistent murmur 

that everything's wrong

and I have everything backwards

My thoughts go double and start

to spin.

Is what I believe a vapor,

instead of a rock?

Is the world right?

Can my God be trusted?

Is He even there?

Of course these doubts can't stand

but they turn my stomach,

it sinks like the gaze of a guilty criminal

and sometimes it sinks so low

that the windows of my soul

seem dark and streaked with freezing rain

that sometimes turn to burning tears 

on my cheeks.

But this too shall pass.

Rosy sunshine will disperse the dark.

That vague sense of uneasiness 

retreats for the moment.

And my Savior seems so close

and so trustworthy.

Maybe even close to as trustworthy as He is.

And though I can't get rid of it

(that vague sense of my own uneasiness)

Maybe it's not a bad thing.

Maybe these whispers are in there for a reason.

Because if you have no doubts,

you can  walk on water yourself.

But when the doubts begin to drown you,

Jesus puts out His wounded hands

and pulls you into His safety.

Where else should I want to be?

written September 13, 2015

// false faces //

Can you imagine what we look like to God? 'Cause, you know, we see faces but He sees hearts. I'm gonna bet if we could see them too, things would look a whole lot different.

Like, that pretty covergirl with her super model strut, perfect body and shiny smile. Nice designer clothes, oh la la. But if you could pull away the painted face you see a heart crisscrossed with scars, beaten beyond recognition, dripping with tears of blood, all wrapped up with a chain and a bow.  And right in the middle one big weeping hole.

Or that pretty boy in his suit and tie, with a car so bright it could blind your eyes, good thing he's got those dark sunglasses I guess. All spruced up, but if he came unbuttoned I bet you'd see a different story. A smoky grey heart with money on the mind, better look nice cause inside ain't pretty, but no one can see it so who cares, right?

How about that old lady, she's not much use you'd think, smells like roses and is dressed in pink, help her across another road. They say when you get a little closer to heaven your heart starts showing more as your skin wears thin. I think it's true and when her skins gone her hearts gonna shine so bright and smell even sweeter, she may be slow but she ran a good race.

Two men passing on the road, you might say ones a nobody, the other a bigshot. Eight digit salary and a giant playhouse. But if you peeked pass what you've been told, you'll see the first man is richer with a heart of gold. Since, after all, that's about the most you take with you in the end.

What about me? Am I doing good? Showing my best side in a better mood? Yeah so maybe I am but that's not what God sees, even my best isn't much. He sees the brambles that grow in that cloudy swamp garden of mine, when the waters stirred up its a little more fine, but what helps flowers grow through is when His light shines...

We're all false faces and they sure won't last, though we work awful hard on our palaces of glass, if we all would just take a look in and then breathe out maybe we could touch another's heart and help it somehow.

'Cause after all we can have a whole lot and look pretty good and still have nothing if our hearts are empty.

What's in your heart?

1 Samuel 6:7

//this is different than what I normally write... all slangy. Odd rhythm. I like it though. The idea came while we were in church this evening, we were talking about the time King Nebuchadnezzar turned into an animal and it struck me that even though every one else saw a successful king God already saw a mad beast. He just chose to reveal the truth to everyone. //