poems.

today was a day of complete and total brokenness. it was a good day. a real day and i felt the breath of God again.

ruth 3

trembling moabitess
not of your clan
or country
sustained by
your goodness
feasted on
your favor
i know not
whereof i ask
or why
obedience
alone
bid me
take my
place
at your feet
cover me
with your
cloak
that i may
rest in safety
and rejoice
once again.



untitled

unable to stem
the tide
i weep these
many prayers
for you
sometimes
my brokenness
o'er runs
its bounds
the flood waters
rise
the incense burns
these many prayers
are gathered
up
until they are
no more




untitled

where is my bedouin
to lead me
out of this
wilderness
where is the one
who can read
the sands
where is the finder
of deep flowing
waters
where is my bedouin
where am i?

excellent mediocrity

i am finishing up brennan manning's wisdom of tenderness. it is phenomenal. copied six pages of notes from the INTRODUCTION. sigh.

he writes me this:

It's more important to be a mature Christian than to be a great butcher or baker or candlestick maker [or poet, i assume]; and if the only chance to achieve the first is to fail at the second, the failure will have proved worthwhile. Isn't failure worthwhile if it teaches us to be gentle with the failures of others, to be patient, to live in the wisdom of accepted tenderness, and to pass that tenderness on to others? If we're always successful, we may get so wrapped up in our own victories that we're insensitive to the anguish of others; we may fail to understand (or even try to understand) the human heart; we may think of success as our due. Then later, if our little world collapses through death or disaster, we have no inner resources. It's helpful to remember the value of Jesus' suffering lies not in the pain itself (for in itself pain has no value), but in the love that inspired it.

i am a fraud. a phony. my excellence is dull and pale. my attributes are smoke and mirrors. would to God i could just find Him in this season. find His feet that i may lay my head down upon them and weep with all my might. that i may kiss them and then, i know He will reach down and lift me up. yes, He will lift me up.

i wrote this earlier about the place i find myself in:
life is much the same here. we trudge on, trying to keep our chins up. i try not to think about it all. it is simply too inexplicable and too difficult. meanwhile, i try to do my best to minster to my family but find i have little to give. i am poor, blind, and weak. any illusion i had of being strong and rich and having words of life have long since vanished and i am left with nothing but God and the cold, hard truth. i can't say i'd have it any other way though, strangely enough. God is sufficient. even in my lack of everything i think i want He is beauty, fullness and peace. i am content. i do not wish to remain here any longer than i have to, but trust God to do what He will and trust that it will be for the good.

i am blind and do not see God's purposes in anything around me. i cannot fathom what He is up to and He has not seen fit to inform me. so in utter ignorance i sit and wait for my redemption. i stand and wait for my salvation. i know it is coming, yes, i know it is coming.

but it is late and i am tired.

alas, i hope.

i am fool
enough to believe
you mean what you say
and say what you mean
i am fool
enough to believe
nothing ventured
nothing gained
i am fool
enough to believe
behind the fame
we are all the same
i am fool
enough to believe
the church will not
shirk her duty forever
i am fool
enough to believe
a pastor is a shepherd
and his voice leads to safety
i am fool
enough to believe
a woman's worth
cannot be measured
i am fool
enough to believe
a man's strength
comes from God
i am fool
enough to believe
the Bible is not
only for scholars
i am fool
enough to believe
a widow still has a place
near the heart of God
i am fool
enough to believe
the orphan is Christ
incarnate
i am fool
enough to believe
all is not lost
or squandered
i am fool
enough to believe

the grinch returns!

last year i was so upset after christmas, so fed up with my own ungrateful heart that i proclaimed a revolution.

one friend said, that is so violent.

yes, i said and smiled, i wanted to throw down anything that got between me and God. to find Him. to go higher.

i can honestly say i don't know if i've gone higher. for all my brave words and talk of revolution, i do not know if i have ascended one mole hill above where i was last year.

i have a few friends who can tell me. but they will be gracious and i will say thank you and wonder.

my mom and sister will tell me. but they too will be gracious and i will say thanks. and still wonder.

this is not about not receiveing compliments, this is about wanting some tangible, undeniable proof that i have come up higher. that i have come to know the heart of God better. do i? really?

can you ever know if you've got a better handle on the inscrutable God, the unsearchable One, the Sovereign King. or is it when you've lost the ability to handle Him, which, admittedly, this year i have done. i've turned Him loose and watched Him run.

He is shadowfax who has ever and always been my ally and carried me through many dangers. His running is poetry. it is right.

this year, until two days ago when my mom sent us a package of gifts there was only two things under the tree, a candle my daughter made for me at girl scouts and a small package sent by my dear missionary friends.

i am asking myself, why is this bothering me? this is right. christmas isn't about gifts and presents. it isn't about shopping. although everyone everywhere seems to think so. i turned on the weather channel to get the weather report and twice within the first thirty seconds on that channel, they asked about or mentioned christmas shopping.

christmas is a marketing conspiracy and i don't know how to get around that. our whole culture is steeped in it. and i can't find Jesus in any of it. the kids did a nice little play and sang songs about Jesus' birth, but the weeks of preparation were frustrating and i dreaded going to deal with "those kids." i was relieved when it was over (how Christlike of me).

last year i decided if i never celebrated christmas again, i would be happy. but my seven year old decorated this year, and i sit in the glowing, flashing lights wondering, what the heck does this have to do with the birth of Christ Jesus my beloved Saviour? what?

i can't figure it out. i can't find Jesus in it all and it breaks my heart. the fact that i felt better when there was more than two things under our tree breaks my heart. i've come to understand my frame is but dust this year. i've come to understand my humanity. but it doesn't make it any easier.

and why are christians so opposed to saying happy holidays? to me, i would say: happy holYdays. these are supposed to be holy days, aren't they? i think that would mean more to me than merry christmas ever did.

have holy days friends, consider Jesus. tell me how to find Him again, i feel trapped in a season that is a marketing consipracy and i don't want to play anymore. i just want Jesus. i just want to go higher.

may you find Him as well.

theology vs. relationship

this is an idea that wanted to be written. a thought i had one day. as with all my other stuff, this is a first draft, largely unedited, i just find misspellings basically and move on. i have been told to submit it here or there, but i just don't care to. so enjoy!


Having worked under seminary trained pastors, and anointed pastors who are not necessarily scholars, (see C. Peter Wagner’s Changing Church for further information on these distinctions), and having attended churches of both types of pastors, I am of the opinion that right relationship will right wrong theology, however, right theology will not necessarily right wrong relationship.

Pastors and laymen alike, who have their relationship with Jesus as the impetus of their lives will, by virtue of that relationship, have their theological errors set aright. As we draw nearer to God, and the Holy Spirit leads us into “all truth” (Jn 16:13) wrong theology falls away. However, those who hang their hopes on their seminary degrees or defendable theological positions do not necessarily reap the benefits of right relationship with the Lord.

At churches and in books, there is a great emphasis on teaching or righting theology. What I see lacking is the intimate relational time spent with the Lord, demonstrated for me to emulate. Great divisions in the church are the result, I believe, of this focus on theology. If the body of Christ behaved like a body, was in true relationship with one another across denominational lines, then our theological differences would pale in comparison to our love for one another. Our relationships would overshadow our theological differences.

How many times has your theological position been changed by being confronted and challenged? How many times has the Lord revealed His will to you by having you serve, love, and humble yourself for your brother? I find the latter the most prevalent way the Lord deals with me. I believe Mary of Bethany would say the same.

Mary of Bethany sat at the feet of Jesus to listen to His words, because she loved Him. She was captivated by His love for her. Jesus never rebukes Mary for any of her theological positions. He simply loves Her and defends her, when she lavishes Him with her love (Jn 12:13). Mary seems to me a type of the servants and children we are to be. When Lazarus died, Mary fell to Jesus’ feet (Jn 11:32) where she was comfortable. She is a portrait of how every believer’s relationship with the Lord must come before all else.

Zaccheus was another sinner, tax collector, with whom Jesus shared dinner and relationship (Lk 19:3). What was the result of this relationship? Zaccheus repented, made fourfold restitution, and gave half his goods to the poor. Jesus was not about mingling with the scholars, with those who knew every jot and tiddle of His Word; He wanted relationship with the broken (Lk 5:31).

The scholars of the day, Scribes and Pharisees, were so well versed in the law, so pure in practice, that they would not eat at the homes of non-Pharisees, for they could not be assured some transgression in ritual preparation had not been committed (Mt 23:25). What is Jesus’ response to this lavish adherence to tradition and law? He called them “whited sepulchres,” “serpents,” “generation of vipers,” and asked, “how can you escape the damnation of hell?” (Mt 23:27, 33). Clearly, if theological knowledge alone were the way to the heart of God, Jesus would have mentioned it (or at least commended them for it).

What is the way to the heart of God? Right theology has been hailed as the way, but I believe the answer lies in relationship. Right relating to the Lord. Right relating to each other. When the Lover of our Souls came to earth, He did not only come to preach and exegete scripture. The vast majority of His dealings were the stuff of relationship: weeping for Lazarus, feeding multitudes, holding little children, and healing infirmities. Miraculous acts indeed, but moreso because in each instance the Pharisees were off studying, while God in flesh was relating.

Please do not hear that right theology has no value. Indeed it does. I shudder at the lack of basic Bible knowledge in the church, but know pounding theology and impressing others with my Bible knowledge is not the way to effect change. Right relating is. I am certain, that as I get down and relate to children in Sunday school, or discuss issues with other adults, or ask the pastor why he believes thus and such, through that relating, which has come only from investment of time and energies in the stuff of life, that theology is changed.

My way of changing theology is not the non-stop, surefire way, but it is, I believe, the way Jesus modeled. I have learned more from pastors and teachers who befriended and loved me enough to model their theology, to be the flesh on the bones of their theology, than from those pastors who merely exegete a few passages and throw a few Greek words at me. There is a place for the scholars, but I believe we have elevated scholars and theologians, setting them apart to such a degree we have lost ability to communicate with them.

The speech of the common man falters in a group of theologians, and only by relationship can the breach be bridged. Tim Attaway, a pastor of a Vineyard Church once said, “Get your seminary degree, then get over it.” Don’t try to impress the church with Greek, which has no bearing on our lives, but feed the hungry, dine with the unlovely, and be the shepherd of souls that will result in right relating to God and the body. Theology will then, by virtue of living example, be set aright.

poems

joshua 5:13

does
the captain
of the host
of the Lord
still make
housecalls?
when i
in trepidation
sit
contemplating
insurmountable
odds
does
the Angel
of the Lord
still arrive
and break
bread
sharing news
and fellowship
with the saints?
when i laugh
in disbelief
will He
ask me why
i doubt?
does
the righteous
King
still receive
peasants
shabbily clothed
begging bread
with no money
to repay?




untitled

i am sadly
terrestrial
land locked
comfort loving
craving
tangible
securities
i am oddly
otherworldly
heavenly bound
trial enduring
seeking
heavenly
rewards

old age

perhaps i'm showing my age a bit here. i have one grey hair (that i know of) and i am very proud of it. my husband says, that is only because i don't have more. but i wasn't sure i'd ever make it to "old age" and praise God, i am starting to think i just might.

so as this aged woman is driving in her car yesterday listening to alternative music, i kept thinking, what kind of music would Jesus listen to? heavy metal, alternative maybe? i like it, why wouldn't He? it has always stirred my soul. granted, the messages aren't the most uplifting. as i went to sleep the other night i could hear "getting away with murder." and another song "i could be weak, i could be stupid, i could be just like you." that is quite a message. one that reminds me to test every word by the Word. and to test the spirits as well.

i just can't abide with sappy christianity, or a sappy Jesus. He was not effeminate (not that there is anything wrong with that). He was not wishy washy and so heavenly minded He was no earthly good (i'm pulling out all the cliches on this one baby!).

no! and i hate it when people tell me what they KNOW about God. i always say, then He isn't that way. but of these two things, i am wholeheartedly convinced. so i wondered as i was listening to some driving rhythms, would God like heavy metal? then i could almost see Him floating across the crowd with a big pleased grin on His face. and i thought, yes. He would. not the messages, not the sin. but the sincerity and honesty of it all.

then i could imagine a mosh pit, not the bloodied punker kind, but the ones i saw which were more civilized, and i got this image in my mind of Jesus jumping around with others, long hair flailing, a big grin, then He stops and says, who touched Me? a modern day retelling of the gospel. could you imagine? could you see it? what do YOU think God would be doing if He were here?

so i went to check the mail and i get this oversized envelope from a ministry i "support" (although i'm broke, i have an iou on my refridge for the day i can truly support them again).

i open this large envelope and wonder what it could be. i peek in and see the last name of the ministry leader on a cd. my heart sank.

yeup, the ministry leader had sent out his son's cd as a "gift" to me (and the millions on his mailing list no doubt).

call me ungrateful if you will, call me narrow minded, fine. but i suddenly saw my "support" squandered. first of all, the oversized envelope for a CD. come on, how much wasted postage was that? not to mention, the cd itself. granted he got the pappa discount, it is still a lot of money. then, i am thinking, okay, if i were a famous person and wanted to support my son, would i do it this way? i keep answering GOD I HOPE NOT!

using the ministry letterhead and funds for the wanton promotion of your child's career is just sickening to me. the letter said something about "feeling closer to God when he listens to the cd." presumably, it could be a worthy investment in my relationship with the Lord. but my problem is the ministry funding of this venture.

if this leader really wanted to promote his son, he could buy the mailing list and send out the cd with a personal note ON HIS DIME! not on the ministry's dime. that is what kills me about ministries and churches. the heads get this notion that whatever they want goes. while i am a believer in the pastor being the head of the church, if that head is making bad decisions, SOMEONE should have the guts to speak truth.

i think i may just have more to say about this. until then, enjoy your age, whatever it is. we only pass through this life once. it is all a gift, really.

(one more note: i finally read the letter that came with the "gift" it was a plea for some $500,000. i emailed the leader of this ministry with my concerns. what good is truth if no one speaks it?)

losin' my religion

no, this is not an homage to R.E.M. keep looking if that is what you're searching for. this is about the church. in 18 days it will be a full year since i left the bureacracy of the church. the control room of the monster as i've now come to know it. the thing is, i had the bureacracy of the church mixed up with the Body of Christ in my mind before this. nothing like stepping behind the scenes to see the little man pulling the strings. he is hard to ignore.

since then, i've been attending the methodist church, which has a thread of liturgy and custom in it. coming from a place where all i've known is nondenominational churches, the liturgy and routine of it all is probably something i could embrace.

deb tells me it is nice to have liturgy and prayers to pray, words to speak for these times when words fail, when comforts cease to comfort, when friends sit weeping beside us because none of us know what to say anymore.

liturgy. yes, if i could just figure out the magic formula to the little book of prayers deb lovingly sent to me, i could find some comfort there, but i am too thick to make the liturgical leap just yet, it seems.

today in church, as we sang to keith green, i could feel my soul begin to warm and soften again. it has been frozen in the belly of the earth for quite some time now, but i feel it quickening again in moments like these.

then, the hymns started.

i love hymns, don't get me wrong. but we are worshipping (or attempting to worship) to instrumental cds. the tin-y sounds of the techno hymns saps my worshipful posture every time. i closed the book and stood there. silent as the grave, once again.

seems, i'm losin' my religion. i've lost the comforts of religiosity. the works of man that make me feel saved. now i am just hanging on God's good favor. i am just hoping in His mercy. for without it, i am lost.

i keep hoping some spiritual director, like brennan manning would appear in my life, but apparently the student is not ready. for i am still sitting silent and alone at the feet of Christ. there is no room for religion there. there is only room for devotion. only room for relationship. only room for a child to revel in the doting Father's love.

my doting Father is not answering me or comforting me as i would like him to in these moments, but then i think of when my girl needs to learn the hard lessons and i must hold my comfort, stymie my rescuing for a moment, so she will understand what she needs to understand. i cannot explain it to her and expect her to reap the same benefits, she must go it "alone" but i hover in watchful silence, waiting for the moment when i will swoop in and gather her up like so many frightened bunnies and take her away to safety.

that is where i am at. the frightened child crying out for the doting Father to come and save me. religion will not serve here. it is empty and meaningless.

they say, devotional time is the first thing to go in hard times. and i am sad proof of that. but i have seen this time as a purging of what i mistook to be God. the purging of religion, man's shaky ladder to God. man's tower of babel to ascend the heights. there is no place for God in man's religion.

so when i say i've lost the comforts of religion, i mean, the artifical working out of my own salvation. the notching of my spiritual belt and the puffing up of my spiritual self to appear "godly."

this time is not void of God however. He has shown Himself faithful to me. in my darkness, in my confusion, He whispers,

I AM still here my child. I AM still here.

as i stand weeping, washing dishes. when i kneel, praying scrubbing toilets, He gently whispers,

I AM here my child. I AM here.

what do i need of religion then? it is void of that comforting presence of God for me. it is the manufacturing of so much goodness that i am sickened at the sight of it. but i know, there will come a day when God will call me to return to His beloved church and speak life. i am much like jonah, catching the first boat out of town at that word. half digested now, i am ready to return. ready to go where He bid me go. and speak.

i don't know what is beyond this place. i cannot see.

as karen blixen writes,

God made the earth round so we would not see too far ahead.

and

this is not what i expected to happen to me now.

nor i, karen. nor i.

i am losin' my religion, and finding God.

crumbs upon the path

i may not have mentioned this before, but when i see my syntax or words i have used in life, or hear them, i stop and smile. that moment then becomes to me a crumb of bread on the path of life and i know i am headed in the right direction. expecially since my syntax is not too common from the books i've read. i have heard some prophets say, dejavu is the same deal.

hannah whitall smith's God of all comfort is an excellent read, and she used the phrase, we none of us. i used that phrase in a poem just after my grams death. it spoke to me.

yesterday as i was shelling pecans for a pie, weirdest thing about my pecan pies is my gelatinous filling sinks to the bottom and the crust rises. topsy-turvy like my life. maybe i need to prebake the crust or something.

back to my story, as i was shelling pecans i flipped on amc, they were airing: bruce lee: a warrior's journey. i like martial arts, i like sumo (japanese sumo, sumo in america is horrifying). i am fascinated with all things asian (african too).

anywhoo, i am watching and bruce lee's story goes, he opens this little dojo and ends up having three of his students win all the karate competitions in one year, each wins the grand championship, and one wins two years in a row. among the notables who were his students, you may already know this, i didn't: chuck norris and kareem abdul jabar (i would have liked kareem more had i known this, instead of walking out of his last game w/the lakers early due to boredom!).

okay, so bruce is finally experiencing success, so what does he do?

shuts down all three of his dojos and walks away, hoping his students have learned well.

that speaks to me. money was never the driving force behind bruce lee's success. conveying a message was.

makes me wonder, what message am i conveying and am i willing to modify it to make the bucks, or lose the bucks to convey the message? it is a delicate balance. one i hope these trying times helps teach me.

this week, as i completed richard foster's freedom of simplicity, i've been fond of saying, if this experience doesn't change my insatiable western appetite, nothing will.

fell into place

first a rant, then a poem.

was watching a show last night on A&E, called millionheirs. you can guess the subject matter.

carly simon and james taylor's son, i forget the guy's name, is talking about how he got into the music business. the voice overlay says, then all the pieces "fell into place" and relays the story of how carly and james invite their famous friends, to a "coming out" party of sorts for their musician son. the famous friends invite their famous friends, record executives among them. (insert eye roll here).

to make a long story short (too late), the deal falls through and the ben taylor band has to start from scratch like the rest of us (but not really, because he still has famous musicians for parents and can still produce his own music). when i stopped watching carly was talking about how her son was depressed and hating himself for about a year (mind you, he got the contract on his FIRST performance) what does this kid have to be complaining about? sure it fell through, but he got a chance of a lifetime (for us regular joes).

i am not one who evokes the f-word at will. life is simply not fair. so i turned off the tv disgusted and went to bed.

my husband worked today, praise God, first time in over a month that he's had someone pay him to labor. my seven year old and i have begun sorting through our things to part with whatever we can (again!).

the good news is, my hubby has a phone interview tomorrow morning. but we've been down this road of dashed hopes so many times before, i cannot tell you how hard it is to keep from getting excited at the prospect of a job. last time the job fell through my hopes were dashed and i didn't even get them up. so that means, they are going into deficit. i'm deficit spending in the hopes department folks. and, well, i just don't know what to say about that. here is a poem i just wrote about ten minutes ago.

there are these moments,
when i know
i am not strong
these moments when
my weakness
prevails.
there are these moments
like now
when i struggle
just to make it
through this moment
and wonder
why it matters.
there are moments
when i weep
unrestrained
moments when i sit
wordless
tearless
comfortless
wondering
wondering when
these moments
will pass.

oops, i did it again!

brought up the race issue. a friend was troubled by this, but here is my response:

i was not saying at all anything about why anyone does not succeed. merely commenting on being a minority. the thing about it is, people say, race doesn't matter, and why bring it up. but when your see through this set of eyes, you see that it does matter.

a dear friend of mine explained her experience, of being in an all black church. she and her friend were the only whites there. she could detail most everything about the experience.

i told her, imagine living your life that way.

the thing about it is, we are so comfortable around our own that the biases and lack of diversity that seems to surround me (there are lots of minorities in texas, but they clump together and none of them clump around me...why is that?)

and i was just making an observation.

my husband and i mentioned manifest destiny, and it struck me how all the paintings were caucasian (esp. the christ figures and the madonna) and it seems any trace of a minority ethnicity has been lost. he was jewish after all. middle eastern. last middle eastern person i saw wan't snowy white.

but all this talk of skin color isn't politically correct nor comfortable is it? but look around and notice who fills your life.

no blame there. just take stock.

museum poems

i went to the museum yesterday. it was quite the anglo affair. i don't think people realize how segregated this society still is. tragically. aside from the man working the bag check at the museum, there weren't any other minoirities present. it "shouldn't" matter to me, but it does sometimes, yesterday it mattered a great deal.

my girl has an affinity for picasso. she hates looking at traditional paintings, but she can gaze at picasso as long as i'll let her. she saw nude combing hair yesterday, and i think she much preferred his cubist works, in fact she said she did.


at the art museum
the sixty-something
docent
upon a soap box
attempts to dazzle us
with his knowledge
doesn't he know
we just want to see
the art
not exercise
patience
with the geriatric
attempt at art
lecture




second poem:

stubbs and the horse
drawings all
of equine form
unimpressive
to the person
longing to see
a picasso
monet or renoir




third poem:

perfect englishman
painting
perfect thoroughbreds
in the
perfect englishside
all
perfectly boring
to
native americans



fourth poem:

aside from the chinese scrolls
buddist gods
mayan sculptures
indian tapestries
and cubist forms
the art
left me wanting.
renderings of Jesus
effeminate at best,
"i hope He looks
better than that"
i said to my seven year old
who agreed.
God is not a patsy
to be captured on canvas
in the image of man
englishman in particular
we walked away
my husband muttered
"He won't look anything like that"
i hummed Superfly
and strutted in my platforms
"He'll have a fro"
"no"
we laughed and left it
at that.

some poems i wrote last night

breath
the most
intimate
gift
we can
exchange
life for life
those who
are close enough
to share my
breath
sleep in my arms
are those
most dear to me
the stranger
in need of
my breath
becomes a part
of me somehow
once
resuscitated
and i am home
sharing
my breath
with those
i love.




i'll always
remember
the breath of
the woman
at Hermosa
Beach City Hall
it was a sweltering
day and she
had just finished
a tuna
sandwich




the breath
of those i have
_____loved
still lingers
a faded mist
upon memories
first impassioned kiss
tangled embrace
panting for
_____relief
yes, their breath
i remember
_____still

not exactly happy, but the best i could do

James 5:16


I am caught up in movies
Playing in my mind
Things I dare not reveal
Yet in secrecy dwells
The enemy of my soul
So share, true confession
__________I will.

Though I tremble and
Wonder if my confession
Will sound like a
Trumpeter’s call
I must step out in
Faith to be true to the word
__________“Confess your sins
___________One to another.”

I will not fear
Enemy’s plan
Secrecy and Isolation
I will press in
To the High King’s Court
Through the pathway
__________Of confession.


Secrets

Repeat after me: I have no secrets.

There you’ve said it. Now that you’ve said it, it’s either true and your are calm as a pond on a still day. Or you’ve got a list of your secrets cycling through your brain right now. Either way, it’s a good thing. Believe me.

I have taken to saying, I have no secrets out loud, to everyone. The thing about it is, if it isn’t true, you will know about it within moments. If it is true, it is wonderful confirmation.

The thing about it is, you have no secrets, whether you know it or not. There is nothing done in secret that will not be revealed. There is One who is always watching and knows you and I better than we know ourselves. Sobering thought, isn’t it? For some it is wonderful comfort and others a grievous realization of truth.

I have always worn my heart on my sleeve, been an open person, and while it leads to some problems, it is really a nice way to be. I have proclaimed my direction and had bridges knocked out before me, but those were times of passionate youthfulness. Now, it is not so much of a blathering as it is a revealing, a sharing, showing my hand to those in my inner circle for their counsel and wisdom. It is truly a place of comfort if you can get there.

If you cannot, might I suggest, you invest yourself in being open before God. He longs to be your inner circle. He knows what is going on anyway, but being confided in is something entirely different than merely observing. God is a most excellent confidant. He doesn’t blather to those who shouldn’t know. He doesn’t judge or condemn, He is warm and compassionate and merciful. Yes, He is an excellent Counsellor.

If you take to saying, I have no secrets. Your heart will bear witness to the fact or will reveal the things you have hidden. Confess them, then say it again. I have no secrets. Try it. I have no secrets. It is a wonderful comfort to live your life in the light. I tell my girl, if you have to hide it you probably shouldn’t be doing it. Isn’t that true for grown-ups as well? Have no secrets, you’ll love it.