Babel

Life is confusing...especially if we trust only ourselves...

Babel

Let's build a high tower to proclaim our great fame
Let's build a tower and make for ourselves a name
Higher than the mountains, up past the clouds
Something so glorious, it will draw crowds
They will see what we can do and be amazed
They will see the bricks with our hands we have raised
Yes, we will be great and we will be strong
Our great fame will spread through stories and songs
The plans of these men so lofty and proud
A tower of fame reaching past the clouds
A rumble of laughter mistaken for thunder
As those plans will soon enough be thrust asunder

The world continues to build arrogant towers
With bricks that are fashioned in proud human powers
We turn our blind eyes to the scars of a Son
When we proclaim our fame and declare what we've done
We laugh at the the story and make fun of their songs
And vainly forget that we too, try to be strong
Such towers are built each day in our name
With the bricks we have fashioned, we are the same
Our plans and our pride as we build arrogant towers
Only cause Him to laugh as we trust our own powers
Our efforts and wisdom are foolish and weak
It's only through Him, we will find what we seek

Hands

It's still a mystery to me
That the hands of God could be so small,
How tiny fingers reaching in the night
Were the very hands that measured the sky

Chorus
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Heaven's love reaching down to save the world
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Son of God, Servant King,
You're here with us
You're here with us

Verse 2
It's still a mystery to me, oh,
How His infant eyes have seen the dawn of time
How His ears have heard an angel's symphony,
But still Mary had to rock her Savior to sleep

These are some words that struck a chord with me today. I heard the song for the first time today on the radio. I had to hold myself in not to cry too much before heading off to do some grocery shopping. The song was performed by Joy Williams.

I had an image of Reuben's small hands flash through my mind. Then I thought of those hands being pierced with big ugly nails, my baby's own hands, beautiful hands. I wanted to cry. Jesus was once a baby. I believe it and yet the image was made more clear to me today. Mary rocked her baby to sleep. Then I think, well, Mary was special. But no, she was blessed. Now these verses come to mind....Matthew 25:37-40 "Then those 'sheep' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?' Then the King will say, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.' I love the story of Jesus coming to earth, but sometimes we have a tendency to forget this story is very real today as well, that He is living. He became flesh. Human. A baby. "That was me- you did that to me." It's not good will to people because it's Christmas and it's a good thing to do. It's loving Jesus, humans, flesh. Hands and feet. Ugly scars. Outcast. Those beautiful babies that grow and experience pain. They are Jesus. I hold my own children, but they aren't really mine. They are easy to love at times. Harder other times. There are more babies born in mangers. They are Jesus. More outcasts ignored. We are Mary and Joseph loving the baby in the manger.

The Tree

The tree stands in the shadow of a tall building
No light shines upon it
Dried out it stands
It is not watered
The tree does not bear fruit
It's roots grow into hard packed sand
Yet why does it grow?
No one knows
Let's tear it down they said
And everyone agreed
Except a wise old man
With a loving heart
He said tear down the building
And let the light shine upon it
Water it and it will grow
Replant it in soil and it will bear fruit
And so it was and the tree grew
Stronger and more beautiful by each passing day

He Wept

Jesus wept. He knew what was going to happen to Lazarus. He knew the outcome, yet he wept. He was deeply moved by the grief of his dear friends.  The people around Jesus did ask why he didn't just prevent the death of Lazarus. Some of the people took note of how much Jesus loved Lazarus. Jesus needed the glory of God to be undeniably shown to the people present,that's why he waited. God's glory needs to be shown through my life too. 
Sometimes I need to wait. Sometimes the way in which God reveals His glory is difficult for us to witness or endure for a time. Everything that looks good or feels good is not necessarily what God wants. I have a hard time discerning what I need to do. What God wants. Giving money to a certain project, helping a friend in need,finishing a commitment I started all sound like good things to me; but the question is whether God is glorified. Is God leading me to do this, or am I relying on what I think is right. We are definitely called to love. Sometimes though I wonder if the love we think we are showing is actually hindering. Out of love, Jesus could have prevented the death of a friend, but he saw a greater plan. That plan can hurt. Jesus wept.  Right now, the fact that Jesus wept is moving to me. He felt the pain of his friends regardless of the fact that he knew what was coming. Jesus did not get too caught up in what was going be done, what he needed to do, that he ignored the pain of his friends. Jesus was moved to weeping. He comes along side us regardless of the fact that he knows what we are going through may have a happy outcome or a good reason. To glorify God. Scary. Moving. Amazing. Absolute trust. I don't have that yet. But I know that whatever happens, Christ is not a third party witness, he is involved. I pray for the wisdom to discern what God will do through me for his glory as opposed to what I think is good. And I pray to be like Jesus in the way that it is powerful enough to come along side and weep regardless of what I might know of the situation. Not judging, not too involved in what yet needs to be done, just sharing. Loving.

Hook, Cross, Follow Through

This is a poem I wrote years ago. Funny how God places something in your heart and then it's relevance shows up again years later. I was quite young when I wrote it, yet I'm still learning from it myself. It's still powerful to me. It's about children in orphanages in foreign countries. Now with a friend adopting a child from an orphanage overseas, I've read this poem a few times lately. It was a telethon that affected me as a girl...showed some children and what they did to numb the pain of things they had seen or to numb their hearts against feeling...

Hook, Cross, Follow Through

Hook
Cross
Follow through
Each day all but new
Crossfires in senseless disarray
Love is only a word some say
Pictures carved in an innocent mind
Actions to which some pretend to be blind
Over and over, the past plays
Darkened future, no shining way
The sounds are still real
The wounds cannot heal
Hook
Cross
Follow through
Each day all but new

Head
Against
Board
Board
Against
Head
So pass the days in the small bed
Not yet to speak, not yet to walk
Love unknown is still only talk
Torn from the life giving embrace
Made to dwell in a foreign place
Only wanting the love
The care so oft spoken of
Innocent suicide
Murdered by foolish pride
Head
Against
Board
Board
Against
Head
So pass the days in the small bed

Staring at
Nothing
Nothing
Stares
Back
Anxiously waiting, her bags are packed
Sun shining, dismal grey, she has woken
Love, lost word, still only spoken
Through time confined to a bed
Outside, the fallen are dead
Her body in pain due to illness
Her heart in pain yet to confess
Gone is the time, her last breath impart
Her body still youthful, no longer her heart
Staring at
Nothing
Nothing
Stares
Back
Anxiously waiting, her bags were packed

Hook
Cross
Follow through
Each day all but new
Head
Against
Board
Board
Against
Head
So pass the days in the small bed
Staring at
Nothing
Nothing
Stares
Back
Anxiously waiting, her bags were packed
Crossfires in senseless disarray
Love is only a word some say

Apples

I don't trust my feelings. I have been afraid to write. I don't trust myself. My horomones. My thoughts. My heart. It's like when I am picking apples at the store, I try not to get the ones with the bruises. Also,  I did not realize how many different kinds of apples there were until I went to Ontario a few weeks ago. Honey Crisp, Jonagold, Russet, Gala....and I haven't even mentioned many of the varities we recognize in our own grocery store in town. I'm not sure I could even recognize the bruises on some of the different varities of apples. I've also realized that I don't know my own heart. I can't always recognize all the bruises either. I want to try so many different things, to taste, to smell, to trust someone when they tell me to try something different. To be surprised by the taste of an apple that may not have attacted me to it at first glance. I put an apple away tonight and it was really hard for me to do. But I have these apples in my hands and I can't grab new ones when my hands are full. I still don't know which new apples to pick. But I know I want the apples...I guess that's something...
"For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." Hebrews 4:12 This verse to me is comforting right now. My heart may be bruised, I may be confused,my soul and spirit divided, but the word of God can penetrate.