Pretty little lies

What do I know.
I know that because of Jesus, because a brother I didnt know I had saw me, loved me and then sacrificed himself for me so that I could come home.
I could leave the dark, desolate, alone lands and come home.
There would be no repercussions, no remembering who I was before I was home.
It would be dark… and then light.
It is impossible to go back surely.  Once adopted.. ?
Satan seems to try and hang “old” stuff on you. To draw you down a path that looks like it leads to those nether lands, but it dosent actually exist any more.  Right?  All that “before stuff” is gone, incinerated.  In the power of a love that has no darkness at all.
So what is it that we fall into…? Maybe forgetting.  We forget.
We get caught up in the mad whirl of things and forget.. but why.
Why does the mad whirl of things cause us to forget?
Maybe because the mad whirl of things is not made up of our counter culture, our surreal society.
The mad whirl of things is made up of all that we were taken out of.  All those things that keep society going without the God who made us.
So it is geared to make us forget.. it does not change who we are or remove who we are, it just makes us forget.
The forgetting means our heart is not protected, it is not guarded and we become weak and feeble as Satan drapes us with lies.
Lies that become like mud as we walk, lies that catch at our ankles and trip us up.
Lies that have no grip on the shoulders of a guarded heart.
Lies that burn up as soon as they touch the most outer extremity of our hearing, when our heart is guarded.
Lies about our past failures,
Lies about who we are,
Lies about how we look.
Lies that can appear as truth.
Lies that keep us small and in the dirt.
Lies that hold us on the milk.
Lies that keep us in old truth, afraid of the new.
Lies that prevent us becoming.
Guard your heart, Beloved of God.
Remind yourself daily, who you truly are.
Polish those words written on your heart
Dont let the dust of worry and fear settle over that which is etched there,
causing you to forget.
Guard your heart, Beloved of God.

Today – beloved

I don’t know really what to write today.  And writing is a strange art, you sift through your head finding thoughts that want to, need to be explored, and you gradually place each word carefully on the page to see if it fits.

Like a jigsaw of many pieces, there is only one piece for each space, and writing is much the same.  Although a number of words will appear that they fit the wordless space, as you move on to the next word and the next, you can see that the line is becoming clumsy, knocking letters out of order and weaving like a drunk.  So you have to go back and unpick, like a tangled piece of crochet or knitting.

I prefer to leave a wordless space to hang there then, while I build around it and suddenly all that is left is that perfect word for that convoluted space, and I breath a sigh of relief and drop her in.

The clocks have gained an hour.  In UK they choose midnight on the last weekend in March to spring forward, I find it annoying!  I feel I shouldn’t because it heralds spring, with its leaky blue skys and vibrant beginning greens with rampant florals erupting everywhere.

Sadly, its the little things that scratch at the inside of my head.   The fact that I look at my clock and it says 8 but I know I lost an hour and it is 9 and I haven’t even started the day yet.

The fact that when I get up for work tomorrow I will be driving in the dark once again.  Its only for a week or so but it scratches never the less.

But then I remember that I have an extra hour of daylight when I get home from work, an extra hour to appreciate the glorious leaky blue skies, vibrant beginning greens and rampant florals, An extra hour to be outside instead of in.

I was inspecting an honesty seed the other day.  These perfectly formed paper thin pods that so exquisitely protect the seeds within.  The intricacy of their making causes me to KNOW there is indeed a God of wonder who wraps his creature creation in spectacular abandoned art.  The same fierce care that is lavished on the creation of an honesty seed and its protection, is lavished on us, but even more so, for we are the messy, bright, engaging, angry, beautiful, perfecting images of his glory and he rejoices over us with singing while weeping over us with sadness as we break and break and break again.  Learning to walk as art in full abandonment to her creator, allowing him to swipe glorious brushstrokes of love and life and beauty in the midst of brokenness, this is Joy.

Always beloved

I am hesitant to share this, but I had chance to spend some time with a friend who has been part of my inner journey over the past few years. She drew my attention to a few things and I saw again how faithful He is to complete the good work, that he continues to do in us. That through no merit of our own, no deserving flesh of our own, He abundantly gives grace upon grace and takes those of us that are not, those of us that are the weakest, those of us that are the lowest and despised and he confounds the world with us. He is a God of Wonder, a magnificent God, my beloved God. This is how he takes each one of us on that ancient journey of becoming, where we stand at the crossroads and look, we ask for the old paths, where the good way is, and we walk in it. I want to add this from Philip Keller because it is beautiful and absolutely true:
“It is God’s knowledge of me, His careful husbanding of the ground of my being , His constant presence in the garden of my little life that guarantees my joy.
—W. Phillip Keller

I want to tell my story…..I do
Of someone, some one
from the minute I began
An intense gaze watched me forming in my mother’s womb
I was becoming
Already His in love
Already beloved
All Ready to be Loved
And suddenly there I was
Not beautiful
Not lovely
Not loved
I did not know I was already beloved
I just knew I was not loved
By one who dressed me
One who fed me
One who left me
I was not loved
My birth, my beginning
into unlovedness

But His gaze did not waver
His heart expanded for love of me
But I did not know that yet
I stumbled as a baby
I faltered as a child
Striving to find love in the faces of those around me
IF it was there it was hidden, behind masks of indifference
festering beneath, with their own hurt and pain to hide

So I shrank
I became small
and smaller still
Of little worth and smaller matter
So I would not be a nuisance
So I would not be a pain
So I would not be
at all
So Small
So Insignificant
That I could not be seen
at all

But He saw me
He Saw ME
and He knew
and He loved ME
He watched me with deep affection
WIlling to break heaven open
and come down when I was hurt
To rebuke those who bullied me
To race to my defence in front of my accusers
But He saw more
He knew that one day, out of the manure of a life seemingly less lived
out of pain
would come the true glorious beloved child he had always seen
no longer hidden and small
no longer believing herself insignificant or of little value
but walking the path of a journey that began at the cross of brokenness
and continues in brokenness right IN the center of the heart of the Father
ALWAYS Beloved
ALWAYS Accepted