...inhale and exhale

I cannot come to grips with my current state...
Feel much like a fish flapping around on the dry shore.
Needing desperately and longing only to be in safe, living water


breath in the air, feeding on your word... sustains me
but truth remains,
insufficient and inadequate...me


What is a "fish" with out water?
What am "I" without  You, my God?


You are mighty to save...
God save me.
I need you!

true love

Reading Bonhoeffer again. I am amazed at the heart and understanding of such a man about God. I can be so blind, selfish and callous; I am so weak too!

oh that God would help me:

see with eyes like His,
understand  + know with a mind like His,
love with compassion like His...

“God loves human beings. God loves the world. Not an ideal human, but human beings as they are; not an ideal world, but the real world. What we find repulsive in their opposition to God, what we shrink back from with pain and hostility, namely, real human beings, the real world, this is for God the ground of unfathomable love.”
-Diedrich Bonhoeffer (Letters)

:: selah ::

  

dear God, i can do nothing but stammer to you. i can do nothing but hold out my heart to you.  you created us in your likeness. our hearts are uneasy until they find peace in you.

-sophie scholl in her final hours before her death

with eyes wide open...

"i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
--i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
--i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)"
— E.E. Cummings