Disclaimer: I believe a church is a place where the worn and wounded can find peace. I believe it is a place where the wandering soul can find rest and the wondering soul can find answers to the deepest, darkest questions of the heart. It is a place of communion and fellowship where iron sharpens iron and the dross of life is cut away by the twin-edged blade of Love. But beyond the poetic musings of this writer I believe it is a place where the saints are matured, where they stand daily before the mirror of the Word and steadily manifest to the world the IMAGE OF CHRIST.
I can still remember my first time
He was kind and tender, His touches were not forceful rather they were assuring. I closed my eyes and surrendered to Him, allowing Him cut away the rust and rubble of my gnarled heart, till he arrived at the ruby within that seemed to attract him to me.
The clocks appeared to pause in wonder, watching me, gazing as I took measured steps …
as His hands led me down the path paved with His love.
It was a feast. My dearies, I can still remember. Every gulp of grace that sent quivers of satisfaction down my aching throat. From that first taste of new wine to the bite-sized portions of his Love, like a cluster of grapes.
All this was in a time when I found myself
Knee-deep in a sea of strife
It was a time of difficulties. Waking up to hear the dreary dirge of failure.
Nowhere to go, no place to call my own
Raging seas of despair sweeping over me, night hours spent in dire desperation…
I was plagued by the hoot and howl of hell’s horde
They assaulted me on every side – nearly stealing that moment
Nearly snuffing beauty from my eyes
But MERCY said NO!
It was one of the few times I saw his face through the fog. His light piercing the thicket of darkness, his sound shattering the mist of madness that masqueraded round about me.
Oh! the heavens are my witness!!! I can still feel the warmth
It is that sort of Love that leaves you soaring on clouds, lifting you high above the miry clay, setting your feet in perfection.
The touch of love that sort of envelopes You – engulfing you, leaving no rooms for doubts. That variant that soothes your aching heart and calms troubled minds
It is the Love of Raging Royals – The priestly ministry of the Spirit as He hovers over the darkness and void of the earth and particularly my heart, restoring to perfection that which was scarred and marred by the fall.
I can still remember the purple hue
The sweet light that poured over me
Oozing with beauty, teeming with power
With this Love I, who was known as the prodigal son, found a home and a Father who did not care that my clothes were strewn with maggots. With this grace I, who was labelled as the wayward wench, found forgiveness in the midst of accusations.
A family that cared … He held me … She held me…
They held me…
and Light shone in my darkness
A light more clear than the light of the crescent moon –
A lantern that shone from Papa’s window.
A three-cord silver streak that sent quivers through time…
saying… Redemption is here!!!
I can still remember the melody, the tune My heart beating in unison, not a second out of tune. A rush that changed my chaotic experience, ripping through the thick shroud of uncertainty.
The Majestic medley of love and grace
Papa’s call… To a home of love.
Papa’s call… To a world UNPLUGGED
The home you’ve always wanted where His supple mercies are more real to you than your own skin. I remember now more than ever. I remember it richer, deeper, stronger because that home WAS and is in me where His voice echoes through time
Saying… Let there be… and there was Me
Welcome to Church!!!