I am waiting for you and you can't possibly know it.

The Lord is faithful and my Hope lies only in He who was and is and is to come.

I will have my fairy tale, written by the Author of life. You'll see.

White picnic tables and Alabama heat, church on a Wednesday and family style dinner with little broken ladies.

It was for freedom.

Oh reader, can you recall a moment when the weight of the entire world and all the dominions that reign evil were loosed by some force much stronger than itself; loosed from your shoulders and your back, loosed from your mind and your heart, and the freedom that had waited for so long to call itself yours cried Holy Holy Holy is the Son who came for freedom. Holy Holy Holy is He who gave Himself over to set me free. Tears would spill out, tears that had been coming forth for years only couldn't yet be released. And Joy overwhelmed the soul. Joy that couldn't help but to spill out of the heart and on to the ground and in to the ears of all those around.

I remember the moment when a few words were spoken and the cords that would bind were loosed both on earth and in Heaven, and freedom in the man, Jesus Christ, came to set me free. He had used Hannah, my dearest friend, to speak those words in an apartment that He shared with me, in a way so supernatural that it had to be for freedom that He chose to use it.

After that I thought I'd spend my entire life devoted to the pursuit of bringing Him glory and of giving Him the only thing I knew I could offer. Me. And I spoke the words Use me Lord, Use me.

Oh and He answered when I called. The heart cry was to serve, and now I sit in an office where many have sat before me, used by He who heals and frees. And I talk with deeply wounded girls all the hours of my day. Girls the world would look at and shun. Girls the world would look at and despise. Girls that He looks at and loves deeply. I sit in a chair that was ordained for me long before I had asked. I sit in a chair that I offer to Him first. I sit in a chair and ask that He would do His work, that He would heal and free. There is no greater joy, reader, than to be set free, and then to minister in His name by and through Him to see them who are bound freed.

It was for freedom that He set us free. May we never forget the cause. May we never forget He who ordains freedom. May we never forget that He is worthy of all the glory we could muster up. May we never forget He moves in those who are willing, in spite of ourselves.

Holy Holy Holy is the lamb.

It's funny and tragic all at once upon realizing that the fire in the heart of your hearts has grown dim. And all the while you know the heart of your King will not be satisfied until he sets all that should burn a kindle until it catches and never burns out. I've been resting on kindle for too long. Falling custom to the routine of life as man might know it, but not life through the eyes of Christ. Awake oh my heart, he whispered sweetly to me.

All this time i had succeeded in convincing myself that the Lord should not want to rest His presence by a fire made of kindling. The fire of wood stubble and hay long put out, only ashes remain. Until the cold air February blows reminded me of His jealousy even for a heart such as mine. The ashes are not in vain, for the beauty He causes to rise from the sacrifice are of a fragrant offering unto Himself.

He offers me rubies and gems, the precious stones that will never burn dim.

Artistry and ashes

Oh to be an artist and create beautiful images of lovely parables and put sweet romance on display, I'd show the world a romance between man and Christ.

But isn't that what life is for? Oh to be a living representation of the romance between man and Christ. Could He not create far more beautiful a picture than these ashes I try to pass off?

He calls me to be willing, says the picture would be the finest I'd ever seen. Know me Lord, that the world would know You.

This is what you do, you Open the veins in my heart, as in the time you first romanced me. Oh that each beat might pump love through me, warming cold flesh; and it would fill the hardened words that darkness speaks around me, overflow into emptiness inside. As you call hearts forth to beat, love pumps through to awaken Love, new life spreads wild inside, then to the head as Truth penetrates it's beholder, then to the hands, you place your signent ring upon my finger. Then to the feet and I can remember a whisper you whispered long ago and you said "Go". And it only just now broke through the silence deadening my ears and I remember when you first spoke, like a memory I'm remembering but I've only found it in this moment, perfect truth and perfect beauty. If I perish, I perish, Lord I will wear your signet ring.

Seale

Seale, Alabama

Here at last, I pray that I might learn how a sheep abides in his Shepherd after being set free.

It's finding Truth in the mundane.

It's staying set apart from the rituals of routine and habit that institution and organized religion set up for itself.

It's obeying the commands of the Lord written in the precious word that we ought to value more than our next meal.

It's remembering that we are Kingdom builders rather than Kingdom dwellers.

It's remembering that our sole (soul) purpose is to bring Glory to the Lord.

It's allowing the Spirit of God to take full possession of the tent He has made Holy for Himself by power, through one blessed instant in history called Calvary.