Each Work Of Art Is a Portrait Of God

Today, some of the greatest young people of God I have ever met and certainly some of my best friends and closest brothers are off to preach to the nations! God has called them to the Philippines, lead by our amazing youth pastor into a broken land crying out for a touch from God. Their mission is honorable and absolutely amazing. I am so proud of them, inspired to new heights. However even with this great opportunity to share the love of our Father, I find myself torn and a little broken by their departure.I must ask myself, why Lord is it that my heart is broken at the separation of my brothers and sisters. What is it father that bonds each of us, so close together...

I read once, that every work of art is a self portrait. If this is true then truly I have seen the face of God. In each one of His children I have seen a piece of Him, a little part of Him revealed through His beautiful works of art. In each of the amazing men and women of God, now on their way to the Philippines rests a little piece of my God. I can not help but miss each of them because in each of them, I miss my God. His correction and words of Wisdom, His father like and mentoring spirit, His compassion and love for His children, His joy and heart for all man kind. His genuine care for the individual. All shown, all set on display for the world to see, in his unique and hand crafted works of art.

Through this revelation of our God I have discovered that the only way to truly see our God is to see each other, to know them and recognize Christ in them, to truly seek after the little piece of God He hid inside them, so perfect and flawless. I know that no matter how I try, I could never know my God without knowing His children. In that I find peace and hope, because there are many of His children and I know only a fraction of a fraction. Praise you God for your love and mercy. I love you God and in turn I love each of your pieces of creation.

These Hands

These hands are for the broken hearted, for the empty handed, for the lost and confused. These hands bring peace, these hands bring healing, these hands bring life, these hands are strength to weary bones. These hands carry fire, these hands consume guilt. These hands break strongholds. These hands are strong and mighty. these hands do not fail. These hands always love. These hands beckon joy. These hands carry hope. These Hands are not my own. These hands belong to you.

When all seems lost and hope is gone, when life is absent and death is present. These hands will carry, these hands will hold. When hearts are broken and men have failed, when the walls are too high and the steel is too strong, these hands will break these hands will bend. When you're all alone and light is fading, when you're broken down without words, these hands will heal these hands will bind.

These hands have been consumed. These hands have been crucified. These hands no longer bare my will. These hands no longer bleed my blood. These hands are His, these hands are life. These hands are Christ's, they will conquer, they will prosper.

I Bear Witness

We are the witnesses today of what will be written in decades to come. We will be the ones who must write and explain to our descendants why we chose to make the choices we have made. It is our responsibility and our burden to remember these days. Another century gone by, another hundred years of human struggle. It is our responsibility to remember the great accomplishments of our day, and the great sadness. We must remember each birth and each death of each day.

Today I will attend the memorial of a righteous man of God. Not because he had obtained in his life some form of righteousness through his good deeds or good behavior, but through his faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. A man who's love for Christ compelled him to action, a man who's obedience to God set in motion life changing events. Gabriel Washburn discipled two of the greatest men of God I have ever met in my life, who's anointing is clear and the hand of God is vividly evident in every aspect of their lives. His obedience and guidance pulled them into a love and strength that even unto his death could not be shaken.

I stand in awe of the love of God. I new very little about Gabriel, my experiences with him are few and far between. I did not have the privileged to be discipled by such a man. However the fruit of his labor grows around me each day, it would be hard to go a day without remembering his life. I once read that true fruit is shown through your spiritual grandchildren. I know now that is what I am. Through Gabe's discipleship of Sean Gleason and Jordan Shaw, I too have been discipled by them. Brought in to the revelation and love of our God. I am so blessed to be a part of such a strong and spiritual lineage.

Now I bear witness of the death of such a great man, taken early from his calling by the thorns of Satan. Brought low by the power of condemnation and shame. It is a striking reminder that we all must answer to our convictions, that we must stand strong in our faith for one another. It is a reminder that we must all be open and accepting of one another's faults as not to put each other to shame. Most importantly it is a realization of the power of the individual. That one man can effect so many lives, so directly and indirectly.

So as we celebrate the life of God's son. Let us be compelled to be more like him. Let us walk out the anointing he was called to. We will use his death as a reminder of how we should live. Let his death bring to us grace and love for all those around us. We praise you God and thank you for your grace and love in our lives. Amen.

The Girl The Wolves And The Fire

The dream started with me and the Durr's entering into a restaurant like place something like the Seattle Needle. We were aware of some kind of pending doom... like the shock wave from a Nuclear Bomb. As we approached the Cashier, I looked up and saw a glass ceiling above us and I could see all the people dancing and eating. It was as if people were aware of the coming doom but didn't see it as serious or felt safe up in their restaurant. When we went up the stairs, we grabbed a Table closer to the edge, the room made kind of an L shape and we were seated right where the L bent. I stood up and I saw my friend and she called my name in a friendly way as if we had not seen each other in quite some time, and we hugged. Then as I went to pull away we began to dance. We danced for a while then slipped away from one another and went back to our families' tables. Then everything went black.

The next thing I remember is being in a destroyed City, looking down a sloped road. That is when I noticed my spiritual leader with me (A Shaman monk). I felt as though he was part of a group though it was never said, that there were more than just him, who were not there. He seemed urgent... as if my life was endanger and I had some soft of important task to take care of... for some reason I was especially important. As we walked along the road he guided me around debris... such as Cars and walls that had collapsed. As we walked... to my right I noticed a figure standing in the alleyway. He was large built and seemed almost to give off an aura or steam. I pointed him out to my Spiritual leader, who immediately began to move towards him. As he approached the man in the alley, who did not move, the man grabbed him and snapped his neck, then dropped him. Without losing a beat he began to run towards me and as he did he transformed into a wolf, a large one. I began to run but he caught up quickly and knocked me down. as I turned over I shoved my right arm into his mouth as far back as it would go so he couldn't bite me, specifically my neck. Stridently I became aware of God around me and I was consumed by the holy spirit and literally covered in flames. I grabbed the wolf by side of the head and pinned it to the road, then I bit its throat and ripped it out.

The next thing I remember is trying to avoid being captured by the wolves. I had returned to my old house (not my real one but apparently in my dream my home or the home of someone I knew) and they tracked me there, there was a large hole in the floor and I could see them below me and they saw me and began to come up for me. So I ran out into the forest, the wilderness. And as I ran I came to a building... something like a business office or a hospital where apparently the girl form before worked. I had been trying to find her as she was the only close person I could remember or think of and it seemed apparent that I needed to find her. I got fairly close to her but don't remember really speaking to her only seeing her and her seeing me. Most of the rest is hazy and I don't remember it.

Crimson Grace

I find that each night as I lay in bed that there are a billion things that I have failed at. Each day I grieve the spirit in some way. Each day I fall short in some way, however insignificant to me or the world. Each day I find that the only thing that catches me when I slip is the grace, so undeserved and unearned.

My selfish pride puts me in situations that I should not be in. It brings words and thoughts to my mouth that I know are sharp and hurtful. It repels me from those that I love and creates friction between me and the ones who truly need me. One of the most loyal and caring kids I have ever met, Dakota Durr, has shown over and over that he is a true friend with a love that does not hinged on what I can do for him. Yet I push away form him and am almost offended by his naive attitude. How ridicules to think that I am better than he because he sees the good in people who I would never give a second glance. How humbling it is to see a young man like him so much more mature than me in ways that are years beyond me.

My lust for my own selfish desires that goes beyond just a lust of the flesh but of the mind and of glory and of entertainment. It brings a lazy and self centered attitude to me. I can spend hours a lot on a game but won't spend 20 minutes to minister to a friend. How absurd to assume that I am doing everything right. How arrogant to believe that I deserve to be greater. What I deserve is to be humbled. To be placed where everyone can see my weaknesses and taunt me. I deserved to be ashamed. I deserve to be left alone. The solitude that I have earned. What I deserve is a cross. And yet here I am, humbly covered in the crimson grace of Jesus Christ. Here I am desperately holding onto the hand of the Father. Here I am on my knees thanking God for the mercy I don't deserve.

How great is my God?! How much love He has for me! How amazing His grace is! How enormous is his sacrifice for me! Its unbelievable! He allows me each day despite my failures to rest in peace and joy. He allows me to wake each day unashamed and without condemnation. For that I give him my rusty, worthless crown. I lay it at His feet. Take it O' Lord. It weighs more than its worth. It makes my head heavy and my sight blurry. Thank you God for this joy, thank you for this power that flows through me to reach those around me, even though I do not deserve it you allow me each day to be your instrument. Each day you open opportunities for me. Each day you correct me in my ways, patiently, lovingly.

Thank you God for your crimson grace.