courage

Break All My Bones Part 2: Fear is a Liar.

I know that my blog posts are so spaced out, and I really apologize. We have been without a computer for several weeks now. We’ve had three computers die on us over the course of the summer, and it’s just been the dumbest thing. So I am reduced to blogging in my spare time at work.

Anyways, one day I will get to the real meat of the Break All My Bones series on here, but here is some more of that.

Fear is something that has always ruled my life, and just recently has God really been pulling that out of me by it’s bloody root. To help my mind accept that living in fear is not living at all, I ordered some vinyl lettering from my job and put it up on the bedroom wall right next to my bed. This stuff is big, bold, and and blunt. It’s the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I see when I go to bed.

IT IS THE TRUTH. It is reality. And it is helping me immensely.

What keeps you from living life with joy, peace, passion and rest?

Man O’ War.

So one of my new year’s goals back in January was to write and record an album. This is the first season of my life where I have felt both the need and the courage to do this, so I’ve been tackling it for the past two and a half months. The process of writing has been wonderful, and it usually flows out of me when the hurricanes of a bad day hit. I didn’t originally have a plan for this album; I just knew I wanted to do it. But as I’ve written, this project has turned into a concept. I never thought I’d be the author of a concept album, because usually my writings and lyrics are so sporadic and don’t really ever flow. But as I’ve been writing, I’ve noticed a common theme, the idea that ties them all together: the sea.

I wrote this one song a month ago on Valentines day, and just recently arranged the music for it. Hopefully Daniel and I can get a rough track done soon. I’d like to share with you the song, but also the thoughts I wrote down before the lyrics came rushing out.

I imagined the idea for this song on my way home from surprising Daniel with his valentine. Earlier I had written about a deep sin struggle, and was reflecting when I thought about the time my sister got stung by a man o’ war jellyfish. I thought about how it wrapped around her body, its tentacles penetrating her skin with its thousands of anchors stuck to her and in her. When they finally got it removed, she was torn up, bloody, swollen and paralyzed. She was unable to move for two weeks. When my sister saw the jellyfish, she went after it because she thought it was a ball. She had no idea that lurking beneath the water were long, dangerous tentacles that were very harmful and potentially fatal.

I liken it to sin. Enticing and often seemingly good and harmless, we chase after something and don’t realize we are about to be consumed by it. Sin burrows into us and holds us captive. And when God decides to rid us of our parasite, we can often be left bloody, broken and barely standing. We eventually heal and come out of it stronger, wiser, more humble and exponentially more compassionate.

However, the stronger the sin, the deeper those anchors go and the more painful it is to have them pulled out. Sin equals death, so when I think about death being pulled out of us, removed by its roots, it is nothing short of a hellish sight.

I want this song to be honest and graphic. I want to take the imagination to a place that paints a realistic picture of what this process is like. In the end, it is worth every bit of pain and terror.

Like a child to a ball
Are my eyes fixed on this
As the child goes after the toy
I will lie cheat and kill to get it
Grabbing it tight
And my eyes shutter with satisfaction
This thing has swallowed me whole

Like a man o’ war anchored into my skin
Deep are the veins that fill with poison
Wrapped around me
Squeezing
Consumed

Don’t rip them out
You’ll tear at my skin
If only gently removed
You might not hurt it
Terror fills my eyes
And the pain leaves me sick
Now I sit in my massacred mess

Like a man o’ war anchored into my skin
Deep are the veins that fill with poison
Wrapped around me
Squeezing
Consumed

Like a child to your knee
Are my eyes fixed on you
I can move whole again
Battle scars were once wounds
Your hands saved me
Thanks for pulling death and I apart
Now I see through new eyes

More Than The Song I Sing.

I need God.

I need even more of Him.

More and more….and even more.

It’s a scary but also a weight lifting reality to be unveiled from the illusion that I don’t need God. I NEED HIM. For His help. His comfort. His understanding. His mighty hand. His death and life through the son. His grace. His humility. His strength. His hope. His wisdom. His truth. His courage. His discernment. His patience. His fellowship. His joy. His wild ideas and his huge calls. His whole and complete love.

Do you see? All good things come from the Father.

Without Him, I can only have specters of such things.

This truth makes me want to burst. The passion, the compassion it creates. Oh friends, it is overwhelmingly sweet.

See, when I come to this place, when I get a glimpse of such complete unity with my Creator….. I just want everyone to know. I want everyone to have Him, to hold on to Him and to be held by Him.

I think about all the people I’ve passed by; all those souls I’ve written off, whether it be for my lack of faith or because of my overflow of selfishness.

I think about high school. All of the friends and spectators who were put in my path. Everyone who saw something in me, but never got to hear what that “thing” was all about.

I think about my best friends, their struggles, and my blatant apathy towards them.

I think about my family members who know nothing of grace but only of abandonment, rejection, bitterness and self-service. And my fear of them not wanting anything to do with me.

I think about my communities past, present and future. All of the broken pieces, the wandering and the dead bones.

Thankfully He is a God that cannot be tamed, and what He wants will surely come to pass. So perhaps all of the ones I’ve passed by have, are and will get to thirst after and taste reconciliation and restoration, and just a bit of His glory.

I know that some of those reading this are not about God or religion or Christianity. I’m o.k. with that. Please, don’t write me off. We are all apart of this big beautiful painting. Lets live this life together, whether you’re here in Lake City, Florida or you live clear across the globe.

Please, ask me any question. All the questions. Stir up the wells and the deep waters. Lets dance in the rivers and carry each other through the scorching desserts.

Go, and be encouraged this Monday morning. You are not alone.

Hallelujah.