My Heart has a Sixth Sense

My heart has a sixth sense
                                 That will shatter my world
    And
                      Recompense
                                        The world around me.

It is certainly astounding
       That it can feel something that surrounds me
That my eyes can rarely see.


I want them to be opened.
I want them to believe.

                                                I just need to find the key
                                                That will set these captives
                                                                                         Free.

Perched Atop a Fallen Log

Perched atop a fallen log
With the brisk autumn air kissing her face,
She sits still
Dreaming of what she soon will be
And what she has become.

The birds remind her of where she came from.
They bring back the freedom of frolicking
Down freshly blazed paths that carry her
To her place of refuge.
In that place her thoughts flowed freely
And any fetter locked around her heart was set free.

The trees remind her of where she is going.
From a young sapling with nothing to bring
To a strong shelter for the weak and needy,
Roots set deep into the ground
To stand against any Storm
That may knock it down.
And even when it is knocked down,
It grows back stronger than the first time around,
Growing closer to the Light as it gets taller and stronger.

She is inspired.
She will be free.
She will be strong.
The Light will make her everything
She needs to be

Somebody's Baby

I was desperate.

But rock bottom felt pretty good. I had everything I needed. I was happy, satisfied when I had money to get what I needed, and I lived in the city. It was everything I ever dreamed, on the surface. The only thing I was missing was a house, money, friends and family. Only I didn’t really care about that.

I was running low on cash, and my supply was low. I remembered when I was around seventeen I would see people post pictures on Facebook with homeless guys in them holding up signs saying “Need Money For Drugs” and stuff like that. The photographs were always paired with a comment about how they appreciated the addicts honesty. I figured I’d give it a shot.

Leaning against a building, half asleep with my sign in front of me, I hoped to get enough money for at least the next day. My only other option was prostitution, and I would never in a million years have pictured myself doing that. But, if it needed to be, it would be done. I looked down the sidewalk only to find a man walking my way. He looked like he was going to come talk to me, and that’s all I hoped for.

He had the kindest eyes I had ever seen, and a gentle loving smile to go with it. He reached out to me as if to shake my hand, and when our hands met was when he finally spoke.

“This money belongs to me, but it comes from someone else. Use it well.”

He squeezed my hand, looked deeply into my eyes as if to say “I’m giving you a second chance with this, don’t blow it.” I just nodded. When I looked down into the palm of my hand, a hundred dollar bill was sitting there. When I looked up he was gone, disappeared into the crowd.

I was set. For days. I went to the corner to set my order, got what I needed and left. I went to my favorite spot in the city, the bridge that gave me shelter and company, and sang me to sleep at night with the music of the river flowing underneath and the buzzing of the cars above.

I took one hit, and couldn’t stop going back for more. I could feel it pulsing through my veins, my head was buzzing, and I got a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt blissful. It was the closest thing to perfect I had ever felt in my life.

I sat watching the water pass below me. I started to think of the man who handed me that hundred-dollar bill. I remembered the look in his eyes before he left. “Don’t blow it.” I wished with everything inside of me that I could see him again. I wanted to ask him for help. He was the last person I met who really would give me help. I needed him, more than I needed this high. But he was gone. I blew it.

That’s when I drifted off to sleep for the last time.

The Songs I Will Sing

To live is Christ
To die is gain
Will be my sweet refrain
Until He calls me home.
I will live to see the light of Christ
Shine bright in this world.

When I'm at the bottom of everything I am,
I discover the whole time I was falling
I was falling closer to the palm of His hand
He will always be mine
I will always be His
Our song will forever be this.

He is there.
He is the power
Of the very core that is me.
Without Him I am nothing.
With Him I am everything.

So why is it all so hard to understand?
That we will always be walking hand in hand
Even in the darkest times
Even when the sun shines.

One Breath at a Time

The waves were crashing all around me
There was no way I could ever break free.
I tried to swim down deeper and deeper
So that I could finally catch my breath
But the pressure kept building
There was no air left.

I wake up in a cold sweat.
I look around.
I see myself in a hospital bed.
My mom is there
Holding my hand.
She hasn't left my side
And hasn't stopped praying
That God would keep me alive.
"One breath at a time"
She whispers.

I watch her until I can't watch her anymore.
I go to look for my dad, but he's nowhere to be found
So I make my way through the door and down the hall
And I find him in the waiting room
Staring at the wall.
I can see it in his eyes
How he wishes he could have been there to save me that day
But it was too late.
"One breath at a time"
He whispered.
And he sat trying to convince himself I would be fine.

That's how I learned
Those waves crashing down on me
Made their way to my whole family.
And I died to myself that day
So my waves wouldn't  take them away.

Imperfection Serves Perfection

We’re all stuck in the stagnant waters of Christian clichés and excuses of why we can’t do anything to fix the world around us. We’ve lost sight of who we are and what we’re living for.

We live in a world ruled by sin, but we live in a time where sin no longer has its grip on us. I hate phrases like, “We’re sinners, that’s all we’ll ever be” because they are not true. Yes, we are imperfect people, but what about sanctification? What about the fact that Jesus died on the cross so we no longer had to be slaves to sin, but to grace? Just because we’ll never be perfect doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ever try.

I think God wants us to constantly be pursuing Him and who we could be in Him. I think we’ve said that too many times for it to mean anything anymore. I think that’s why Christians are so complacent in their walks with God, because they become content with what shouldn’t be.

We shouldn’t be okay with the fact that we are imperfect people serving a perfect God. We should see it as truth, because in this world we will never be perfect, but we should never ever ever be content. We should strive every day to give Jesus all we've got, because He deserves it and it's the least we could do. Jesus suffered as we do, felt pain like we do, and then took on all of our sins on the cross for us. For the first time ever, God forsook His Son because He just couldn’t look at the weight of the sin He was bearing.

God doesn't desire for us a life of excuses. He didn't do all He did on earth for us to do that. He wants us to live in total trust of who He is. He wants us to forget about our sin, not for us to hold onto it and let it control who we are. He wants every day on this earth to be a step closer to perfection. We can't do that if we keep using the fact that we're sinners as an excuse. It's truth, but there's a difference between the truth and an excuse. 

So because of His perfection, because of His humility, because of His grace and willingness to bear our sins so we could live a life free of them, don’t you think we should give Him a little bit more than what we have been giving Him? 

innocence again

when i was a kid
i'd write poems about
mountains and snowstorms
and days on the beach.

they were coated in innocence
they were totally free.

...just like my thoughts
and hopes
and dreams

used to be.