waltzing lessons

there's this passage in song of songs where solomon is pounding on his lover's door, trying to get her to let him in to spend time with her and love on her. i read it about a week ago and had no clue why it was in the Bible. it's nothing special, it seems to be just a description about how some woman is too lazy to get out of her bed to see her lover.

"i slept but my heart was awake. listen! my lover is knocking: 'open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. my head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.' i have taken off my robe — must I put it on again? i have washed my feet — must I soil them again? my lover thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him. i arose to open for my lover, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the lock.
i opened for my lover, but my lover had left; he was gone. my heart sank at his departure. i looked for him but did not find him. i called him but he did not answer" (song of songs 5:2-6).

today it hit me like a freight train why this passage is in the bible. as christians, so many times, we love on God in church or in chapel (for us bible school kids) and then we go on about our normal routine. and God is calling out to spend time with us and love on us. He is begging us to be with him. and we slap him in the face by saying, "i've already taken off that mask, must i put it on again?" "i've already worn out that facade, must i pick it up again?" "i've already worshipped you once today, Lord, isn't that enough?" we beg God for His presence and then when He shows up we're too busy. He wants to break through the door, but He is a gentleman and won't force His love on us. i fear for our future if we don't take hold of the opportunities that we have. remember the story of mary and martha? martha was too busy to sit at Jesus' feet? and let's not forget that she was busy preparing for Jesus. and mary, despite what she thought about how martha would react, just sat at His feet, knowing that His time on this earth was short and that He could be taken at any point...so she rested in Him. and even Jesus said that mary chose what is better. i don't want to be too late, i don't want to be one of those who thinks they're a christian only to find on the day that Jesus comes back that i'm left, that i'll be looking for Him and won't find Him, that i'll call Him and He won't answer. if all we're here for as Christians is to find some really extravagant way to jump around or some cool jam session that makes us feel better about our seemingly meaningless lives, then we have failed miserably. this faith is so much more. it is VIOLENT love, it is ABSOLUTE truth, it is PEACE (and not a magic cure). this faith will rip away at your flesh and destroy all that is contrary to HOLINESS. it will follow you everywhere you are, day and night, and it won't relent. it will seek you out if you reject it. it will burn on your insides until you're positive you won't survive. and we obviously don't want THAT faith - we so dance around the issue, convincing with our beautiful waltz, but we're cheating the steps. jesus said the road was narrow and seldom traveled - because it's not easy. but if we want TRUE freedom, it's the ONLY way. it's the difference between worshipping God and living in His presence.

LORD JESUS, i ask right now that you would purify my heart. take away all my desires for the things contrary to Your kingdom. You said that we are blessed when we hunger and thirst after righteousness. i pray that i would be so desperate for Your righteousness (for mine is as filthy rags) that i would not neglect you for even one day. i'm not going to sit here and put up some schedule that you have to work in. i'm not going to take my robe off and then complain if i have to put it on again, because i don't want to miss an opportunity to love on you. because i DO love you. with all that i am. You are the one i love; the object of my affections and desires. You pour out of me like water and i want to dwell with You. i don't want to miss it because i'm too busy doing other things. set me free from the constraints of time. i pray that You would complete this work that has been started in me. teach me how to waltz without cheating the steps. i wanna dance it Your way. amen.

front row rehearsals and sonic drive-in

why is it such a crime to the world for me to be myself?
i look at myself in a mirror, and i finally smile...
so why do people start criticizing?
i'm trying to do the best i can.
i'm sorry that i'm not quiet and shy.
i'm sorry that i'm not focused and upright.
i'm sorry that i'm not always modest and humble.
i'm sorry that i tend to speak before i think,
that i have a problem with patience,
that i can seem overbearing and intimidating,
that i can be percieved as immature at times
because i simply enjoy my life.
i'm tired of apologizing because
i'm some sort of menace to the adult world.
if someone could just explain to me what harm being myself has done...?

seven year olds and dishwashing soap

i love hearing a seven year old's imagination come to life. i often wonder if they even see what i see or if their eyes put them in a completely alternate universe. running through a house suddenly becomes dodging skyscrapers, and jumping off chairs (however...i wouldn't suggest letting them do this often) suddenly becomes skydiving. there is no end to the way their brains can compose a beautiful scene. i hear his screams and conversations and his voice inflections, informing me that there are two people involved in this conversation, even though i can only see one of them. he whizzes past me, yelling something about how the world is coming to an end if they don't take care of the supervillian across town. i smile and giggle to myself as i get back to washing the dishes, remembering the days when i used to be the same exact way. but life happened to me. and when i start a conversation with someone only i can see, it causes people to question my sanity. when i jump off chairs and run around my apartment, people laugh. it's just part of growing up. i hear his tiny footsteps on the floor above my head, and i feel the immense innocence emanating through the house. i know i'm supposed to be cleaning, but i'm fascinated by this story he's written with his toys. a laugh echoes through the house, the kind of laugh that comes from deep within your belly. the kind that makes everyone around laugh. and so i laugh with him, and i don't care if i look crazy. all i know is that childlike innocence makes me happy. all i care about in this moment is the fact that i'm finally getting a vacation from my life. there's nothing more i desire than to run upstairs and join him. but i know i'm too old for that sort of thing now, so i turn my focus once again to washing the dishes. he runs around the living room again, shooting invisible webs out of his hands. then something about let's go get the guy! and he's off again.

je n'ai rien à dire (i have nothing to say)

i'm sitting on the computer,
so i might as well start typing
and see what flows out of this empty head of mine.
things haven't gotten much better.
my writing is still lacking...something,
i can't quite put my finger on what it is.
i'm falling in love with God all over again,
so that can't be the issue.
i'm not going to play doctor and
try to figure out what the problem is, either.
because whether or not i like it,
this emptiness keeps coming back.
sometimes, i think it's just simply that
i've emptied my brain's poetic thought onto paper
and there's nothing left,
that it's gonna take a while before
things are back to the way they should be.
but i can't handle that answer.
i can't handle the thought of having nothing to say.
i can't handle the fear that this isn't temporary,
that i will never be able to write like i once did again.
and i'm sure someone is looking at this
and thinking that i'm a writer,
that this prose is striking...but the truth is,
i'm lacking.
i'm lacking that feeling i would get
when my passion would surge through my fingertips
onto the keyboard and do the talking for me.
i feel like i'm missing that functionality
that my writing once had. it used to be so dramatic
and yet so real. so poetic
and yet so simple.
and now it's just a lazy excuse
to sit around on a computer and try and
remember where i put my creative mind.
i must have replaced it with logic.
will i ever be able to write again like i once did?
and if not, is this just part of an artist's growing up?
and if so, will i ever get used to this way of creating?
and if not, will i always just be longing for the good old days?

balancing acts with hundred pound weights

this empty screen stares at me, screaming, begging for me to say something. but i find i'm at a loss for anything more than meaningless, purposeless words. i feel like that's all i've got lately, words with no meaning, a heart with no purpose. and maybe it stems from never having time to feel. this walk with God has relied on doctrine and logic and structure so much that i don't even remember what it's like to actually walk with Him. to know what His touch feels like, to feel His arms wrap around me. to hear Him whispering love in my ear. i fear that i'm losing my intimacy with Him, like i'm drowning in my theology and forgetting what it sounds like to hear His voice.

and maybe i'm alone in this. maybe, i'm the only one that feels like i'm getting carried away with building my foundation that i've forgotten what it's all about. maybe i'm the only one who doesn't understand where that immense love went. because they're right, "it's not about how you feel", but i've got to find and rekindle that passion that i've let fade. God is near, and God and i are incredibly deep in each other right now. but i want to feel His love today, not just know it's there. i know that the wind is there, the breeze exists. but i want to feel it brush my face and tickle my eyelids. and that's what i want from God. Lord, can You just love on me a little? this whole balance thing is much harder than i remember. can You show me You love me?