The eyes of a child

Whoever came up with the idea that adults always have the answer and stand alone in their wisdom, was completely mistaken. I'm blown away that this concept has survived the ages and has been spoon fed to the younger generation. I believe that it has a great deal to do with control and insecurity.
We have a God that tells us to be as little children....why then are we infatuated with growing up? This strange obsession with acting like an adult is overrated. I'm not talking about being "mature", that's a different thing altogether. We have a religious system that lauds being distinguished and presentable, while the little "Words of God" scuffle around beneath our feet fulfilling their destiny for which they were sent, and all the while we miss it.
If you don't believe me, then I challenge you to come spend an afternoon at my house. Come and watch my 9 month old little girl laugh and play and smile. Come and see the purity of her heart and the joy she has. See if you can hold back a smile, or even tears sometimes. She only knows how to exist in who she is. There is no pretense or facade. Only this beautiful little munchkin with bright blue eyes that melt you into the floor. Her day consists of scurrying around the house on her new found mode of transportation(hands and knees), and her occasional stint in her walker/race car while she slings her all-to-noisy toys through the air and squeals in delight.
I have been in the process of learning who God really is for the last 9 months of my life. I thought I was so wise and informed. I had it all figured out. Until this mysterious little creature came along and rearranged my world. Not a day goes by that I don't smile or shed tears over her. She has taught me more about God in 9 months than I have learned on my own in 10 years.
See, the reality is that she has it figured out. Not in fullness yet, but she knows what to do when she's hungry, or she has a poopy diaper. It's no secret, she cries for her father. This doesn't take thought or reason, it's simply her ingrained response to her need. When I leave the room...she notices, and with her new found freedom, and the condition of her tummy or her pants, she will do one of two things: she will whine until I come back in the room, or she will come find me. That is her reality at this point in her life. There isn't another option. When I begin to fix one or both of the aforementioned conditions, she is still usually screaming, but as I begin to take care of her the relief comes into her eyes, and then it's just her and I. She's usually staring at me smiling or grabbing at my face and we'll play or I'll tickle her till she screams . It's just her and I and there's nothing else in her world, or mine, at that moment. She loves my face and I love hers. Other times I leave the room she's content for a few minutes, but the moment she loses the sense of my presence her pursuit begins. At that point, I can walk back in and sit down, and she's fine. Her daddy is in view, and all is right with the world. At which point she will return to her playing, but not without checking in on me every few seconds. She wants to know that my focus is on her. That I have a watchful eye fixed on her. If I fail to do this then she will noisily make her way towards me and begin to chew on my toe or something. Ariana is extremely proficient at holding my gaze, simply because of who she is. She doesn't have a job or do tricks or bring home straight A's. She just drools on everything and poops 3 times a day, and she's my world. I don't have to try and love her, I simply do, and not because I want her to grow up and be awesome and change the world. I do it for her. I do realize that the fruit of me loving her and being there for her like I need to be, will be an amazing girl that impacts everyone she meets, but it's not my motivation.
What's the point? This is our life in Christ. To have access to the Father. To hold his gaze. To have no other option but him. To run to him in our distress. To trust him, watch him, move with him, pursue him. To know that he loves us and that he's for us. To realize that we can't make it without him. As we grow and learn to trust him more, our whining will fade away and turn into waiting. Our tears will turn to patience. Our hunger will be satisfied, and hearts will become full. We will experience the beauty of his face, and the providence of his hand. This is maturity. This is being hidden within him. This is knowing him. So go, let your hearts be free. Run and play and live and love and be like a little child.

Intense week

I sit gazing back at a very emotional week. For all intents and purposes it shouldn't be...yet it is. Self-awareness tends to be a bittersweet companion. In one hand you have rejuvenated hope that life isn't going to leave you out in the rain. In the other you find yourself standing in the rain waiting for providence to open the proverbial door. The conclusion that is drawn in the end is that I'd rather be in the know than be ignorant. Then somewhere around 11pm on a Friday night, you discover the gauntlet from which you just emerged. It's not like this is surprising or it never happens. This week just seemed to be especially volatile. I'm also reminded that I brought this on myself through petition and ill-content. I opened my big mouth and asked God to give me vision. So, wham, happy birthday.

The God of Process:

Today I'm thankful for the process. It's been almost ten years since a crazy, misunderstood, punk kid took a dip in a river and came up a new man. As I look back through the years, trying to edit my mistakes with my iMercy program, I see the significance of the process. There is simply no other way to develop strength of character and wisdom other than walking through life and acquiring them. I wish I would have listened or been told all of this ten years ago. Not that it would have made it better, but possibly more tolerable. Life is about living. It's not about destinations. If we were to edit out all of our journeys, where would all the good stories be, with the mishaps and the fun stuff? I find it funny, as one who is introspective and historically hypercritical of himself, when people look at you and say, "you are wise and discerning". Not to dishonor those who say such things, but the way I see it is life is just this string of mistakes all glooped together, and somehow when you obtain an undetermined amount, they automatically become "Wisdom". Which, by the way, is awesome. It kinda makes me feel like I can't mess up. One could equate it to taking all the stuff in your fridg and cabinets and chunking it into your stove, only to open it moments later to find a tasty chocolate cake waiting for you.So the recipe should really read:1238501982 parts mistakes+1 part grace=wisdom. Funny. I really do feel like I'm on the precipice of something though. God is present. There is community taking shape. The Kingdom is being realized. It's like there's something on the wind. Some sound or melody that you can faintly hear. There is a remnant with their ears to the ground...waiting. I know that God is in love with their waiting. It's such an awesome expression of extravagance. All that we do for Jesus is a waste if he's not real. It doesn't even look sort of sane. It's absurd...and he loves it. In this is the divine tension. It's his sent word not returning void. Except it hasn't started returning yet. Our feeble hearts are just crying out for him to hear us and heal us, and be in our midst and wreck our lives and ruin our perceptions. Our fists are bloody from banging on the doors of heaven for God to pour himself out like never before. That a nation would be changed. That the hearts of the fathers would turn to the children, and the hearts of the children to the fathers. For true peace and love and beauty to be expressed. For the propaganda to end and the perversion to cease. That God would raise up his standard and that heaven and hell would obey. And a little child will lead them. God let it be so. Come and heal us. Change our tradition and our religion. Make us foolish in the eyes of man. Help us forget our pride and set our faces like flint. Raise up those who would tend the flame. Embellish us with your glory. Let us show you off to a broken world in need of a fierce lover. Until the kingdoms of this earth become the kingdoms of our Lord and his Christ.

I don't know why i always find myself awake late into the night thinking. There is something mysterious and enchanting about the early morning hours. I feel like it's a searching time. Like i'm trying to find something i've lost, yet i don't know what it is. I just know that there is a deep place in me that is trying to be discovered. Maybe it coerces me to hold on to the night just long enough to hear it cry out for attention. It's strange really. Something about the way i live and love and hope, dwells in the night season. Maybe it's the tension of knowing that mercy is about to come? I some how think that God is anxious to release it to us, and just maybe i feel that in His heart. I'm really not sure. I just know that there is treasure hidden in these lonely hours. I just honestly don't know where to dig sometimes. Maybe it's the only time i really feel as if I can be me? Like i can actually exist without the external pressures of pleasing people or being overly concerned with what responsibilities I have. There was a time long ago when I would cry out in the night. Before responsibility and "maturity" got a hold on me. There was a time when i would tend the flame in the temple and not let it go out. Where it was just he and I and all of heaven. But now there is today, and all the things that have been drug along from then til now. I long for the innocence to return to my heart. For honest tears to flow in brokenness once more. I have sat in the seat of cynics for far too long. I have heard their judgments and musings long enough. I wish to be free once more. I want a merciful heart and loving spirit. I fear i have shut the world out and God with it. I want Him to come back and dwell in my midst. I want Him to be my center. My vision. My hope. My resting place. My peace. My love. My desire. My passion. My obsession. Jesus, come and break away all that hinders love. Until i am undone and at your feet. There is nothing and no one that holds the keys to my life, but you. Come for me once more.

Sometimes you wake in the midst of your day as realization consumes you, and feel that your heart has been seized. Held for ransom deep within, by your broken soul that fears it. This is a call to win it back. This is the call to rescue it from apathy and indifference. This is the journey in.