Like A Bird to the Wing

And so you think He is domesticated, do you? You think that because the formal church has reined in His followers, hampered, quieted, and weighed them down with every imaginable rule, that somehow He is domesticated? Impossible! Wild and beautiful is Christ and none can hold Him. He will offend even Christians who embrace their rules more than they embrace Him.

And He has been breaking His followers out of this man-made prison for several years now. When He comes for you, go . . . like a bird to the wing. He will help you. The wild man from Nazareth will lead you into astounding places. Grab hold of his hand and go. The religious have fallen in love with their decaying structure. But you must fall in love with Him.

Artwork: Garden Rendezvous © 2008 James Christensen
http://www.greenwichworkshop.com/christensen

South Dakota, Listen!

3000 years ago they did the same as us. South Dakota, listen! It has fallen in your hands to rise above the common practice. Will you be more “civilized” than those 3000 years ago? Will you vote in these elections to save the lives of children yet unknown?

3000 years ago ancient tribes worshipped Molech, a pagan god, and upon his altar did they sacrifice their children. This demon god demanded pregnant women be laid upon the table and their unborn children ripped from out their bellies for his appeasement.

And here we are 3000 years later doing exactly as did they. Yet we live in the age of science; we have left behind barbaric practices—haven't we? Yet upon the very same table are our mothers laying, and into their wombs we reach and rip out their precious unborn ones . . . how different are we? The only difference is we medicate our mothers so they cannot feel the cruel sacrifice . . . and, of course, we do not say we worship Molech—we call it “a woman’s choice”.

Not much has changed in 3000 years.

Photograph: Fetus, unknown

Trousers Pulled Up Too Tight

Autumn is in the air and quite alive! I love its cold smell and how its breath crunches up the leaves. Autumn is welcome here. It feels like laughter, that’s what hurly-burly days are like. Like laughter bouncing through the air, knocking the prim and properness out of the elegant trees, til they are shaking with laughter themselves.

I know some who could use a little of that. Stuffy, proper “christians” who have their trousers pulled up too tight. There’s no room to laugh! Not a good, strong belly laugh, that is. They need the prim and properness shaken out of them. They need to loosen up their belts a bit and take a few deep gulps of the wine that God has offered—it’s called His Spirit! He’d bust them open in a minute and clean out all the serious sighs and self-righteous groans and religious hoity-toity-ness that has stiffened up their collars . . . Blow, wind, blow!

Artwork: Autumn by Lucien Levy-Dhurmer

Stamped Upon Our Soul

Conscience is a gift from God. Carefully did He plan it out before imprinting on us such a thing. In love He gave it, a memory of God’s image stamped upon our soul. Father God knew we’d need the help to choose the right.

But will we listen to this small voice? We sin-prone souls tend to lay the blame on others when we choose wrong, and so say they make us to feel guilt. But perhaps there is another cause for shame and guilt? Does conscience oft times speak too loudly of the truth God planted in it? Do we silence that knowing voice and ignore its insistent remonstrations until it all but dies and falls silent in the grave? But it does not die without a fight. Conscience can be a terrible thing when not heeded to. A deadlier foe man has never known. Strong men have lost their sanity from ignoring it. Some have committed suicide to escape its voice.

God did not make it easy for us to ignore His moral laws . . . conscience makes us pay the price.

Artwork: Memory by Elihu Vedder