"On your back with you!" One raises the mallet to sink in the spike. But the soldier’s heart must continue pumping as he readies the prisoners wrist. Someone must sustain the soldier’s life minute by minute, for no man has this power on his own. Who supplies breath to his lungs? Who gives energy to his cells? Who holds his molecules together? Only by the Son "do all things hold together" (Collosians 1:17). The victim wills the soldier live on - he grants the warrior’s continued existence. The man swings.
As the man swings, the Son recalls how he and the Father first designed the medial nerve of the human forearm - the sensations it would be capable of. The design proves flawless - the nerve performs exquisitely. “Up you go!” They lift the cross. God is on display in his underwear, and can scarcely breathe.
But these pains are a a mere warm-up to his other and growing dread. He begins to feel a foreign sensation. Somewhere during this day an unearthly foul odor began to waft, not around his nose, but his heart. He feels dirty. Human wickedness starts to crawl upon his spotless being - the living excrement from our souls. The apple of his Father’s eye turns brown with rot.
His Father! He must face his Father like this!
From heaven the Father now rouses himself like a lion disturbed, shakes his mane, and roars against the shriveling remnant of a man hanging on a cross.Never has the Son seen the Father look at him so, never felt even the least of his hot breath. But the roar shakes the unseen world and darkens the visible sky. The Son does not recognize these eyes.
"Son of Man! Why have you behaved so?
You have cheated,
You have cursed,
Oh, the duties you have shirked
the children you have abandoned!
Who has ever so ignored the poor,
so played the coward,
so belittled my name?
Have you ever held your razor tongue?
What a self-righteous
you, who molest young boys,
peddle killer drugs,
travel in cliques,
and mock your parents.
Who gave you the boldness to rig elections,
and worship demons?
Does the list never end!
playing the pimp
accepting bribes. Y
ou have burned down buildings,
perfected terrorist tactics,
founded false religions,
relishing each morsel and bragging about it all.
I hate, I loathe these things in you!
Disgust for everything about you consumes me! Can you not feel my wrath?”
Of course the son is innocent. He is blamelessness itself. The Father knows this. But the divine pair have an agreement, and the unthinkable must now take place. Jesus will be treated as if personally responsible for every sin ever committed.
The Father watches as his heart’s treasure, the mirror-image of himself, sinks drowning into raw, liquid sin. Jehovah’s stored rage against humankind from every century explodes in a single direction.
"Father! Father! Why have you forsaken me?!"
But heaven stops its ears. The Son stares up at the One who cannot, who will not, reach down or reply.
The Trinity had planned it. The son endured it. The Spirit enabled him. The Father rejected the Son whom he loved. Jesus, the God-man from Nazareth, perished. The Father accepted his sacrifice for sin and was satisfied. The Rescue was accomplished.
Excerpt from the book “When God Weeps” by Joni Eareckson Tada and Steve Estes.
This little clip made me weep. Do I not see myself in that list? Do I not see a greater fulfillment in that type of redemption?
Last summer I traveled to Jamaica. I didn't go expecting vacation. I went to work hard and be a part of the body of Christ. I went to lift up my brothers and sisters around me. I went expecting nothing but the presence of the Holy Spirit to consume our group. So much power in that name. Jesus.
give her “perfect peace” during her stay at the infirmary
ISA 26:3 Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee
lessen her physical suffering and free her from bondage here
if it is your will, Lord, take her home to be at peace for eternity
"When I wake up in the morning I am blessed, till I lay my head down to rest, I am blessed."
let her be confident in knowing she is loved by You
Veda was quietly laying in the corner of the room. When you came in it smelt of animal waste and rot. Many of the beds had little bundles in them - odd shapes and protrusions. We held onto hands - or what remained of hands, and smiled into waxed, watered, and blind eyes. When we sang - some cried out to God in praise in thanks - others shrieked - some rocked - many lips mouthed words. Rock of Ages, Wondrous Cross, Be Still My Soul, Amazing Grace, Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus, they knew them all. One man tried to kneel by his bed to pray, his tiny frame couldn’t hold up the waist band from his pants and he grasped at them quickly trying to cover his exposed body - only to have them fall down again. Exposed. Every person was so exposed. Oozing wounds, wobbly teeth, stiff limbs. There was one who went from person to person with out stretched arms - hugging and holding each of us for a few seconds. These people have been abandoned for so long - and were so willing to give their love. A little old man sat on the corner of his bed - his face clenched in his hands. From further off he seemed to be crying - but if you got really close - and leaned your head over close to him, you’d realize he was uttering a constant streaming prayer of thankfulness to God. I never saw his face - he remained the way he was the entire time muttering “Praise God, my fortress, who watches the sparrows, Praise be to God who gave me victory in Jesus, death! where is your sting? Praise God from whom all blessing flow…” on and on. I absolutely loved talking with Veda, she moved my heart soo much. Her legs were immovable and her teeth in front were all missing - her body was rippled with convulsions, and she laughed her beautiful toothless laugh when I complimented her “dancing.” I held on to her. I felt like I had to. I wanted her to feel me there, with her. When the group finished the last song and moved to the next section - I stayed with Veda. I kept singing to her, telling her I loved her - and God cherished her. I called her my sister and she whimpered - and danced. I asked if she had anything she wanted to say and she abruptly started to sing me a song called, “I am blessed.” I let her sing it for herself - but I danced with her the whole time, rocking with her completely out of rhythm. I’m so completly unaware, I can’t even wrap my mind around what it means to be blessed now. When she finished I tried to sing the song back - but she shushed me and sang it again from top to bottom. She made me listen, I’m so glad. She asked me to pray with her, so I did. When we finished she asked me to pray for her.
That God would take her home. That’s it. She didn’t ask for eased suffering. Just to be in the presence of the last and only thing she loved. When I looked at this woman, I saw my sister in Christ. No way I would have seen that a year ago. It was time to leave, and I kissed Veda’s hands and face, told her my love - and left. Veda Harriot is blessed. I thank God for Veda. I am blessed.
"When I wake up in the morning I am blessed, till I lay my head down to rest, I am blessed."
We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living and since that first breath… We’ll need grace that we’ve never given I’ve been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts and it’s not only when these eyes are closed these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach, but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north, stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better but it won’t won’t, at least I don’t believe it will… so I’ve built a wooden heart inside this iron ship, to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts. don’t let these waves wash away your hopes this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever we only have what we remember
I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts we all have the same holes in our hearts… everything falls apart at the exact same time that it all comes together perfectly for the next step but my fear is this prison… that I keep locked below the main deck I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right but they’re heavy and I’m awkward…always running out of fight so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever we only have what we remember
My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water I wear this tide like loose skin, rock me to sea if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep all these machines will rust I promise, but we’ll still be electric shocking each other back to life Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected our bones grown together inside our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided our spines grown stronger in time because are church is made out of shipwrecks from every hull these rocks have claimed but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change so come on yall and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever we only have what we remember
“some people are uncomfortable with silences. not me. i’ve never cared much for call and response. sometimes i will think of something to say and then i ask myself: is it worth it? and it just isn’t.”—[miranda july, no one belongs here more than you] (via suzyhumanity)
Thank you so much for posting the That's My King video!! I've been wanting to find that for the last year and a half since I saw it at Cornerstone Church in Simi Valley while I was visiting there. It's so easy to forget just how incredible our King is. I think I'm gonna start every day with this video.
what a wonderful idea! and a fantastic way to start off the day with the right mindset :) grace and peace be with you my friend, i pray Gods people may be open to reminding each other :) thank you,
for the waywardness of the simple will kill them, and the complacency of fools will destroy them
blah. one reason i may not persue wisdom, or even just truth, one reason i guess a man could forget to persue You God is simply because they/i am
i mean in a passive way, not a “solid on The Rock” in the Word and tight with Jesus way. secure in my own american prosperity.
psalm 1:1 - i may not be a fool, but i still do foolish things. i may not be a scorner, but how i find myself viewing the world scornfully. i may not be ungodly, but oh how i can put on that characteristic.
You complete all my shortcomings. i am trapped in this fleshly body, and until i am fully spirit, i cannot give You the glory You deserve. but. i will keep heart, with all my heart,
i have my moments Lord, but i will not frustrate the grace of God: for if righteousness come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain.
…………………… He has not died in vain. be thou my vision. how i despise hypocrisy. ive been one, let this be cleansed, i just want to abide in the Spirit. guide me, o thou great Jehovah.
“He’s a nice fella," said Slim. "Guy don’t need no sense to be a nice fella. Seems to me sometimes it jus’ works the other way around. Take a real smart guy and he ain’t hardly ever a nice fella.”—Of Mice And Men
what does it mean to be a man? this is something that has become lost somewhere along the way. men today, and i use that term loosely, but men today aren’t men in the true sense of the word. they are merely men in the biological sense of the word. so what makes a man? what about what doesn’t make a man.
being a man is not something that can be measured in notches on the headboard, girls dated, parties attended, drinks consumed, money earned, status gained. being a man is a heart issue, not a validation issue. this is a problem with men today. men today don’t know how to be a man. they know how to live in the man’s body, but they don’t know how to live with the man’s heart.
it kills me to see how manhood has transformed to be something that is defined. this is a major problem with the youth today. so many, especially those living below the socioeconomic status line, don’t have that positive male role model at home or in their lives at all for that matter. no one teaches the kid how to be a man. he learns it. and let me emphasize this: there is a huge difference between learning something and being taught something.
today we view men as those who are not at war with their own desires - they simply give in to them, give in to the flesh, the world, for the sake of gratification. in reality, a man is someone who is able to push against his desires to hold true to that which he knows to be right. he is able to guard his own heart instead of lending it out to anything and everything that comes along.
men today have two main recognizable emotions: lust and greed. where are the women in all of this? they are the objects of man’s lust and greed. what about the feminine heart? it is forsaken for the sake of a warm body. it is not guarded at all. it is the man’s job to guard the feminine heart. it is the man’s job to pursue the feminine heart, not the feminine body.
so what makes a man? it isn’t about sex or dating or drinking or money or status or cars or jobs. it’s about what is in your heart. it is about how you choose to protect and pursue the feminine heart. it is a reflection of god’s heart. we have a seriously skewed view of what a man should be and what is acceptable for a man to be. right now, men are all the things they should not be. we forsake what we are called to be in lieu of what the world tells us we should be.
and i don’t want to be like that.
i don’t want to objectify women. i don’t want to mistreat them. i don’t want my worth to be determined by how many women i have had sex with or how much money i have or how much i can drink. i want my worth to be measured in my obedience to god. in my ability to make the difficult decisions. in my ability to protect my heart and the feminine heart. in my ability to love others as christ loves me.
the next time someone tells you to “be a man,” think about what they are asking you to do.