S P A C E

I walk into the driveway, the gravel crunching softly under my shoes. It's a cold night, the cold bites at the edges of my thick flannel jacket and nibbles at my feet. The stars are up above, though the fog has started to roll in thick. The silence is so dense I can almost see it, it's weight hanging over the ground lovingly.

I walk toward the house. The light that streamed from the old windows isn't bright, but mellow, golden, steady. I think that if it were to have a taste, it would be delicious light.

The silhouette of a window outlines a woman over a stove, cooking stew. I can taste the mushrooms and the venison and the broth, Little curls of steam twirl up, and as the woman smiles in joy, I recognize her: Mother.

This is my house. I'm in a dream, a long lost memory of what was once.

I run over to the next window, where I see what I know in my heart I would find: Father, playing his old Ibanez by the roaring fire, singing in that rough, wild voice of his:

All I am is music,
I've been that way from the start.
Just a whisper on the wind,
an easy twilight song.
Just a wandering spirit
and an open, open heart.
Sing with me,
All I ever wanted
was for you to sing with me
Throw away your fears and realize
That when you sing the mountains move,
the stones break down and cry
and the stars shine brighter in the sky.

"Daddy!"

I remember the first time the Holy Spirit came to Me, when He showed me His love in such a beautiful, tangible way. It was about one year ago now, and I was walking down my beloved railroad tracks. I was overcome by love from such a King, but the main feeling I remember even now was the feeling of...

S P A C E.

I could think with my own thoughts and feel with my own emotion, something I had always wanted but was afraid of being manipulated. My walls were finally down after years of being taught to put them up, and I could see for miles, stretch my soul again, and just sit back and... rest.

It's become one of the things I look for to know He's near. All the problems weighing on my mind suddenly don't seem very important anymore, in fact, not important at all. I loved and still love that place with Him... no obligation, just passion. No agenda, just love. No time, just this moment that is the most important moment of all... the moment of Now. That simple call of "Daddy!" And the sweet response, always faithful and always true.

In those moments of space I realize that nothing I could ever be or learn or accomplish could ever compare with finding Him, with spending my entire existence pouring out on the dusty earth, just to know Him more. Not all of my life is spent in these moments, there is always something pulling my attention away from Him, away from those moments, away from that place that changes my very mind to be more like Him...

...But I contend for the moments that I can see past my walls. I pray, I weep, I fight tooth and nail against everything that stands against me being closer. I give up seemingly harmless things that others enjoy without fault. I draw away to be alone for no logical reason. I lift up the things in my heart to Him even when my mind is clouded and there are fears and doubts running wild, knowing that as I give them up, He takes them away and I can see Him clearer. And I know that little by little, our space together will grow and we will be endless together.

I love the space I have with Him. It's my secret place. I will spend time there, make my home there. I will build a roaring fire and make bread, start to craft melodies and sing the words that He teaches me. I will plant a garden and grow flowers. I will run as fast as I want and dance like I am a child and dare to do the very thing that terrifies me. And best of all, I will love Him. And He will love me too.

May you feel space in your soul today.

All my love,

B

Your Own Tune

I went to visit Emma in Klamath Falls in the winter of 2013. She was going to school down at OIT. I was going crazy in my little town of Monmouth, and I needed to get over the mountains, to breathe the clean, cool air and see ponderosas and crush snow with my fingers until they turned numb.

It was snowing then, and I puttered my way there in Steve, my 1985 Ford Tempo. Everyone marvelled that I still drove him, and people often asked me why I didn't scrap him and buy another car. I would shrug and think why bother getting another when the old wasn't broke yet?

 

The fog broke somewhere before Oakridge, and I could see the stars again. It felt like I had been under a fog for quite some time, but I breathed in clarity at last and revelled in the feeling of no weight pressing on my mind. It had been a long and confusing winter. I had lost sight of my dream. I knew something was missing in all the mess of worship leading and church and people that I couldn't love the way that I wanted. All I wanted was someone who knew me, whose presence I could stretch out in and be myself, with whom I could talk and dream and not worry about perceptions. I thought then that I missed Emma... Which I did, but that ache proved to be a foreshadowing of a need far greater.

 

We sat on the living room floor with a bag of peanut M&M's. I told her about everything, about how clouded I felt, how I wasn't sure that being a nurse was the dream I really held but was pouring my time and money out on. How I couldn't sleep at night for fear that this endless routine I felt was all there was.

 

She was quiet for a time, as best friends sometimes are, thinking.

 

"Hey... Why don't we go to Australia? You know, like Elle did. We always dreamed we would travel together...."

 

That was the day it all began. That was the day I started dreaming again. And that was almost two years ago. It's been a journey since then, don't get me wrong... a beautiful journey. These past years have been both the most tumultuous and incredible years of my life.

 

I left that weekend with a dream in my eye and a new spring in my step, even though deep down I knew that moving wouldn't help with the fact that I felt like I still didn't fit right, like I was trying too hard to obtain the perfect Christian life that I knew didn't exist, at least not in the way that I was trying to understand it. That was a hard year for me... I was leading worship, but missing the romance with the One whom I was singing to, the romance that proved to be the thing that changed everything. I was trying to be happy and serve everyone else, but my own heart was dying of neglect and depression reigned in my soul, something that wrapped itself around my joy like poison and I felt from knowing that I was missing something.

 

The obvious solution to my identity crisis was definitely not buying a one way ticket to Oz. I never thought I'd come here, let alone stay here for so long and grow to love it as I have. Never did I hear the divine call of the Lord over this mission, not once did I ask Jesus whether or not leaving home and coming here was a good idea. Emma said, "Australia?" and I said, "Um...alright."

 

I knew I had to go, somehow, knew that He had promised to be my home forever, no matter where I roamed. I knew He wanted to stretch me, my perception of Him and my world of thought. I often asked Him, "will I ever be able to change the world like I want?" So He showed me the world.

 

And oh, I almost forgot... I'm six weeks away from coming back home.

 

Six weeks until I get on a plane and leave the family that I've grown to love more than anything. Six weeks until I have to say goodbye to a country that holds part of my heart and always will. Six months until my heart that's torn in two rips a little bit more.

 

If there's one thing I could share with you, beloved, from this journey, one thing I could infuse into your spirit that you would never forget, one thing I could give to you freely so that you wouldn't have to go through the pain of the process yourself, is that you don't have to be afraid.

 

My life used to be full of fear. Fear of other people leaving me alone, fear that I was too much, fear that I couldn't be as close to Jesus as others said they were, fear that if I jumped into the unknown, I would fall and everyone would say, "I told you so," fear that if I really cried our to be saved from  myself, I would be met by raw, blistening silence.

 

There's a lot of fear in us, though we mask it over and over with silly excuses and remedy it with one liners like, "Jesus said not to worry." We start to fear that we are alone. We wonder what the person next to us is thinking when we start to really be moved by God but are afraid to show it in any way that seems out of the norm. And we wonder if it will ever be different than this, an endless cycle of fear that keeps our company locked down here, not up there, where we belong.

 

I often long for escape from myself, from my own mind that holds me down in the realm of the possible. What would life be like if I would live in Him every moment, thinking and breathing and moving with Him? It is not impossible to be free, as I once thought. In the end, it's all about being more free, as free as we want to be. We were born to love each other. We were born to love the One who first loved us, to give ourselves completely to something, to be consumed by something greater than ourselves.

 

If there was one thing I wish you knew, its that you don't have to be afraid to be you. Be loud, be quirky, be strange. Ask the questions that are awkward and unanswered. Sing loudly and/or off-key to a song no one's heard but you. Laugh uncontrollably or cry until there are no more tears, both for the same reason: just because you need to. You are surrounded by people who desperately need you to be unlocked so that they can be given permission to do the same. Don't look at anyone else to see who they are and copy that. You are a unique expression of God's word, His light and laughter, and He has something He wants to speak through you. Don't criticize yourself because of where other's are at. You have treasure inside that weary heart of yours, treasures, treasure that's buried under years of pain and people telling you to tone yourself down to match the mold. Treasure that is the most precious thing in the universe, so much that the Father gave his lifeblood for it.

You see, in the end, all that matters is your heart. He looks at what's under all the faces we put on and calls what's at the core of us out. He allows space for us to grow, honors us for who we will be, and loves us so we can stretch out and be us.

He is the greatest treasure we could ever find or own or possess. I cherish the wind of His whisper, even the hint of His being around me, the thought of Him thinking of me. I feel Him now, these days, more strong in me than ever. And I love Him so much... More than I could ever write in lifetimes of books.

 

I feel the resistance...

But I am not afraid.

and I will not be turned away.

 

 

Love,

 

B

 

 

 

 

Jonah

I'm sitting in the dark.

I lift up my head from the ball that I've been curled into and unfold my hand so that my palm is millimeters from my face, so close I can feel my own breath ricochet onto my cheek. The warmth of it comforts me. All else is cold.

Time has lost its rhythm. I have forgotten now, how long I have been in the dark. The light is but a memory now, flashes of light that dart across my minds eye. Memories hang like orbs in my spirit, memories that fade even now.

I had left Him. I remember that, a painful red thought that had branded itself onto my forehead. I had left Him standing in the sunshine, eyes full of love. There was no anger with Him. There never was.

He doesn't want to see me now.

We had been walking in the highlands, the lands that I loved. I knew them well, for they were my own, part of me, part of the spirit that had birthed in me my song and my joy. We had stopped short of the cave, His hand tugging mine as He tried to walk on. I did not move. I knew what was beyond. I knew what lay within. And full of shame, I knew I couldn't let him come in any farther.

I had looked at him one last time, let go of His hand, disappeared into the shadows and left Him behind, for I could never let Him see. He could not love me like that, could not save me from the darkness that covered the deep places. I had to face them alone, to find victory or defeat.

At least that's what I used to think. 

He had told me that He had loved me before I knew what love was. He had told me that He was love, that love would win in the end, that He saw the things I hid and yearned to sit with me in the midst and in the mess of them. I didn't understand then. I still didn't. These thoughts swirled and swept over me now, surrounding me. 

How much love is Love, really? How much love can you love me with, Oh God? Can you see into the deepest part and still love all of Me? Am I afraid to let You in past what I know? I feel the swell of love unseen, but I cannot let You see that place, the darkness that I hide away so deep that I forget the place it rests. There's land in me I do not know. I cower in corners. And still you come to me and tell me that You do not see the blackness of the air in here. I know there are fairer lands to run, they're further up and further in. 

~

Waves, crashing and breaking over the worn wood of the ship. 

Still, darkness. 

They shook me awake. That's right, I was still running. 

Everyone shouted, cascades of words interjected among the waves. I knew I would drown, but peace washed over me. 

Love came, again. 

Who are you, really? Where do you come from? Which God do you serve? 

"I am Jonah. I worship the Lord, the God of Heaven, the God of Love, who made the dry land and the sea alike."

(Author's Note: Most Bible stories were preserved through centuries of songs and stories passed from generation to generation. I challenge you to re-read books like Job again, and ask questions like these, questions you've been to afraid to ask before.)

When The Cloud Shifts

I love clarity.

I love the moment when the cloud shifts and you can breathe again. It seems that I've been under a cloud quite a bit lately... But none of that matters now, in this moment, when I can see. All the shadow is forgotten under the heat of the sun.

Rosa was crying in front of the grocery store when I walked by her on the way to the train. I sat down. Her friend had committed suicide the day before and left his dog behind. She was angry at him, she said, but I knew that was her way of saying her heart was breaking. I didn't try to tell her anything, to fill the space with words that only came from obligation. I just shoved by self-proclaimed dislike of physical contact aside and embraced her. And she cried. And I stayed.

And in that moment, the cloud shifted.

It occurs to me that though she may have had many people put money in her hand today, not one of them had gotten close.

We've gotta get over our natural discomfort of being close to people and just throw ourselves right into the messy mix of loving them. We're still afraid that we'll love too much... as if that's a thing. Sometimes we're stuck in our fog of commerce and compromise and forget that people are hurting around us and they don't need us to have the answers or be super spiritual, they just need a hug. We are all going to keep traipsing about in circles in our boxes of fear until someone finally steps out and loves, someone throws up their hands and says, "What the heck," and just decides to make a fool of himself to get close.  Jesus did that. We can do it too, because He's in us and loves us and yearns to show love to each person.

It doesn't matter what your gifting is; If you cant love, you're not living life the way Jesus intended life to be lived. People are looking for a place to be themselves, a place where they don't have to strive or work for acceptance, a place where they can see past their circumstances. They are looking for a resting place.

I love it when I can see clearly. But I love it even more when I see the cloud move off of someone's countenance and I see them come alive under the weight of love. I love it when someone's eyes shine with the realization that someone loves them enough to come close. I love it when Jesus moves me past what I call love into a deeper place, a place that shines out the fog and illuminates the real Truth.

Get closer. And then get closer again.

All my love,

B

Sleepless Nights

She woke up at 3: 42 on the dot, her mind reeling from dreams that wouldn't let her sleep. Chaos, shapeless forms, flashes of light, dishes breaking, people shouting. She had spent too much money on skim lattes and cheap paperback novels, medium cigarettes and wine with people that didn't care. Voices tormented her, voices of regret and indecision. Voices that told her no one cared, voices that told her she would forever be stuck in this cycle of stupidity, this cycle of longing but never reaching. A memory flashed.

Creaky stairs.
Daddy sitting by the fireplace.
Daddy said he was thinking about stuff.
He couldn't sleep.
How could sleep be lost?

She rolled over onto her stomach and tried to bury her face in the pillow, but it was too late, she was already wide awake, awake to thoughts she didn't want to acknowledge. She wasn't fine. She had cried herself to sleep last night. The regret of trying and failing, trying and regressing clung to her like bad lint, haunted her like a mean ghost. Her soul ached, if ever a soul could.

She was tired of living in a halfway house. She was tired of the in-between. She was so tired of living like everyone else. She wanted to burn! She wanted to die trying to be closer, to give all her life and all her mind and all her spirit in search of knowing the Maker. But she kept getting caught in the flow of life, of living just like everyone else.

But she was so tired of fighting it. Of pushing the boundaries, of pushing for freedom. Of being stretched, pulled, shaped. She often had an overwhelming feeling that she should give up, leave this place. She feel lost, like she should be looking for something else, some other place that she could call home. But she'd felt that feeling before, when she was home.

Where do I go?
What is it that I am looking for?
I am out in the open,
not hidden under Your Love.
Where are you?

She remembered Luthien. She had read of her once, when she was a child. Luthien was a daughter, a lover, a woman in the old tales that Dad had read by her bedside every night. She remembered the words to this day.

Luthien stood upon the bridge, and declared her power; and the spell was loosed that bound stone to stone, and the gates were thrown down, and the walls opened, and the pits laid bare; and many thralls and captives came forth in wonder and dismay, shielding their eyes against the pale moonlight, for they had lain long in the darkness of Sauron.

Do I have power like that?

Do I have any power at all?

If You don't come, I have no hope to carry on.

She could not love by herself, not one could without the cross, because everyone was stuck in their boxes of pain, they were all under a veil of hurt that blinded them to see any soul for what it truly was. 

We are a broken people,

Made up of broken edges

And shattered pieces.

We long to be close,

But fear the tearing

of our hearts

again.

But she knew the cross was more than a story. Christ was more than a theological idea to be pondered and dissected by men. He could speak for Himself and heal the way He said He could. He was not dead. He was the One who could take man's twisted thinking and warped perception and transform it into a beautiful thing, a thing that would endure to the end. 

She could stand, fearless, not as a weakling but as a warrior. In her pain she could love, and in her love she would never be weak, for she now loved with His love. She worshipped Him and escaped from her veiled, selfish, blind heart into His perfect one. It was so beautiful, more beautiful a communion than ever she imagined a communion could be. She was in the Unveiling. She could approach the throne of all thrones. She could drink of the same stream that she would drink afterward, when the race was run and the mountain was climbed, the water that flowed from the living Fountain. Now she saw every soul in the right light, through His eyes and His heart.

He is with me, 

In me,

and for that I have found my joy, 

even in sleepless nights and in torment. 

He has called me to my destiny, 

drawn me close to His hope, 

sheltered me with His song.


I pray you realize you are a warrior today.

All my love,

B
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Sometimes I write in the third person about myself. It's a sort of therapeutic processing that helps me see what's actually going on in my heart. While a rather strange practice, I recommend it to someone stuck in their own head and in need of a way to express what they are actually feeling. 

The In-Between

Rosa was sitting on the steps of the grocery store as I walked home from work, nursing a cigarette, which I supposed to be rather hard to come by when you didn't have much money. She was Aboriginal, I knew that by the crazy mop of salt-and-pepper hair that stuck every which way off her head, and the way she mumbled her words. She was dressed in a thick coat, a necessity on a cold night like tonight. The weatherman said the rain was supposed to go on all week. I wondered if she was warm enough.

I squatted down on the sidewalk. "Rosa, how are you? You remember me?" I asked her. She had come into the restaurant earlier that day asking for a flat white, 3 sugars. I gave it to her.

Her face lit up with the glint of recognition."Can I get you anything, dear? It's gonna be a cold night tonight."

She put out her cigarette with an air of regret. "I wouldn't mind a smoke."

So I bought a pack and we sat down and had a smoke together. Not exactly something you'd preach on in church, but whatever. I told her I loved her and that I'd be back again soon, and she told me I had a good heart and soul. And then I kept walking.

Most of our lives are spent in-between one thing and another. Millions of moments in a day are not occupied with work, studies, things to check off your to-do list. They are just that: the in-between. 

It sometimes feels like this whole year has been an in-between. In-between what? I don't know. It doesn't matter. God rests here, as he does with all the seasons. I am in love with my Savior, and I find Him in the quiet, in the moments I am finished with one thing and waiting on another thing to come to pass. I don't need to wait for Him, for He is here, now, in this moment, while I'm making dinner, while I walked home, while I rode the bus to work this morning. I am no longer afraid to stop whatever I am doing and let Him speak to me in the silence. I no longer ignore the moments I have nothing planned, for it is often when He has something planned.

How do we connect with eternity in everyday life? How do we transform not only the big moments of grandeur, but the small, seemingly insignificant moments into a life full of love? How do we become people who change the world? 

By filling the in-between with the truth of His voice.

It is how we spend the in-between moments that determines our destiny.

I hope your days are filled with His love and the sweet, simple life that lies within Him.

All my love,

B

The Heart of Things

I was going over old drafts of my writing when I found this in the jumble of my old thoughts. It stirred something in me I haven't felt for some time... Something different. I want to share it with you because it stirred my spirit to desire the Truth. I hope it does the same for you. Some of these thoughts are just little wanderings that I still am exploring.

August 2014, Sydney, Australia

I've been suffering from writer's block for the past two months.

It may have something to do with the fact that my journal is in two pieces. It started when I bought a bottle of vinegar and it broke in my backpack, successfully soaking everything I owned. Airport security thought I was trying to smuggle a smelly bomb in my backpack and made me unpack the whole thing to find the culprit before I could board the plane. My poor journal has never been the same since.

That is a poor excuse and I know it. Time just gets away from you and soon it's August and you haven't called either of your best friends back home or even texted them to let them know you thought of them once. Soon it's August and you have spent too much time on Instagram and too little time looking at the faces of real people to tell them you love them. Soon it's August and you haven't written a single blog post, even though you swore this was going to be a time used constructively to finish that book you've been working on for what seems like forever.

But I digress. I want to share with you a little of what I've learned the past few months (ok, maybe years) about truth.

The truth is not what we've been told. Beliefs aren't the truth. Facts aren't the truth (getting uncomfortable yet?). The truth is not doctrine, or scripture, or matter. It's not what you see, the air you breathe, the skin you feel on your bones.

Let me explain myself before you write me off as a complete psycho.

The truth is who God is. Because everything was created by His hands and we came from His heart, we have truth in us as well. The facts that we know about science and theology and scripture and the physical world around us contain truth in them. The belief systems we have in our minds contain truth, some in greater degrees than others. Scripture contains truth in the words of Paul and Isaiah and Moses, along with countless others.

But THE TRUTH  is the person, the being, of Jesus Christ, the beautiful mystery of the God that we call Father, and the sweet closeness of the Holiest Spirit that is in us. We think of Him as being outside us, external, far away in the heavens somewhere waiting for us to come to Him when we die. We think of God and look up.

But the Truth (God) is at the center of everything.

And the truth of something is how it relates to who God is. See, every single good thing on this earth contains a truth about the heart of Father. Not only that, but every good thing in creation shouts a truth about THE Truth.

No matter how much doctrine I know, it's nothing compared to knowing him. We block you out with our doctrine, and we are so proud of what we knjow about you, but when truth comes out, it humbles you.

See, doctrine and theology are just distractions. You rest for a little while in theory and opinion, but still your heart aches. You want the King, you don't want the idea of Him. You want true life, but true life does not grow from opinion. Theory may spring from life, but never life from opinion.
We all make excuses for the pain we feel, the pain of separation from the Father. We say it is not our destiny to be close until we are with Him after we die in that golden city in the sky. We say that we are just holding on to righteousness by the thread of Calvary, but we know in our spirits that there is more, an indwelling of that righteousness that fills us until we overflow.
This creates a world of falseness. People have many theories, beliefs and opinions, but their lives are not filled with the Truth. They talk of high ideals and a life of truth, but their talk has no foundation.
I am tired of the definition of faith. I am tired of opinion. I am tired of theory. Let them rot where they stand. I want my opinion to grow out of my true life, and be worthy of it. I want heavenly truth. I want the Source of light, the source of love, Love Himself, for that is what will make us authentic, that is what will take our lives and make them true.  

I want the King.