Heaven Come Down

In the middle of it. It, being several things both personally and in the whole earth, the world that I live in. The nation(s) stepping over the lines daily that kingdoms have made. Knowing it is over, yet knowing it is all somehow just beginning.

Emotions I will be honest I do not love them. I understand they are part of the fragility of being a child of God and simply human? Are they? They are a burden at times, the ever provoking nature of them sinful at times. These sort of wondrous shades days both shorter and longer. I know that emotion cannot rule me, yet I must seek to understand them. Not too much salt though. Music is what emotions sound like, not gossip and slander. Gossip and slander are what sin sounds like not emotion, and good music emotion.

I am in the middle of the whirlwind and the world is moving quickly, time has accelerated. I can feel the foundation of the earth pulsing its turbulence. It's angry swelling up, shifting into an unknown emotion, a truth none of us will escape. The signs of the times. Time we know, a time and times and a half.

A time such as this.

The two realms touch. Identity, sin, passions and degenerates. Mankind has fallen. There are no words to both understand the mercy and severity of You my God. I am reminded to count it all joy when I fall into various trials and know it produces faith and patience. To linger at the most volcanic points.

To face the pointless smearing and deception of broken mankind. I find it a revelation of Your absolute sovereignty in all things. More than I know and in the things to come, more than I have ever seen on this earth. I am amazed by both wonder and fire!

What is the man that You are mindful of him? The pouring out of truth. The many faces of Your glory. More than I can count. Sitting "here" knowing it is already done. Now that human stuff?

The power of truth I know now more than ever. It is a rock, anchor, refuge. Deception takes hold of the earth in these small ripples at first, eventually, as the winds pick up ripples turn into tsunamis and wreckage is inevitable. Lost at sea. Who am I? The question implied. A scattered boat? I reply, not a lie little boat.

The masterpiece of it all. The anger I have found valuable has served me something brand new. It has given birth to the purpose. In that, I will never be sorry, but in sin I am.

This ball of need questions, and evil trying to capitalize off the ball of infinite issues. We will never be short of problems, I am however more concerned with their solutions. Solutions I have, but less patience for problems. The waves get larger. The tide rises and You take my breath away. Knowing.

Knowing that I was made for all of it.

The accusations, the schemes, the slander, the battles, the wars, the top of the mountain, the valley, whatever it is. Waking up rested. Listening to who people say I am, knowing who I am. I know You, Jesus, You know this feeling better than anyone else. The odd awkwardness is yet assurity at the same time. It's strange to hear people talk about You, about me, about us like we do not exist!!! Even though the truth is evident. Like we are not in the room(s). This is the nature of earth and mankind.

To hear the brokenness of man in the workings. To hear the error of it all. It is notably irritating obviously.

It is the ugly reflection that mankind is lost. Truthfully, many cannot handle the truth. I have learned this very well. However, I will never stop learning the depths forever Your student. We talk about such foolishness I hear myself at times groaning about it. Things that do not matter, that do not help us, yet we treasure them, the things that come out of us.

We do not campaign to be understood, may God be true and every man a liar.

The past is a place in time. One that no longer exists. However, we grab and pinch at its memory trying to break gear, a moment. Humanity likes this particular place, I suppose some do not heal from it, they relive it like it is the present. A whole strange pendulum for the healed, but a grieving of space to the brokenhearted. A place that exists only to its keeper the delusion of it all. It was real, yet it doesn't exist anymore. Wow! A journey like that of a song. Pieces that we're set in motion creating something powerful. Who lives there again? Who can? I don't. How we.

A testimony. My testimony is a beautiful bloody love story. I write to You knowing I am Yours. I write to You knowing this is a legacy. I write to You knowing the complexity of who I am. In the whirlwinds, I am unafraid, secure. I AM.

At the beginning and the end, it is sealed. And no matter the power of the Heavens or the obstacles of this earth it will always be Our love story.

Jesus Christ Forevermore

My ROCK

Unashamed.

Forever

Forever