Turn Around and Follow

Upon reading Isaiah 30...

"In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it." [Isaiah 30:15 NIV]

You stand waiting for me like a father [Luke 15:11-32]. You are my Father. But I am bound by my addictions, tied to this master I sold myself to. So a I wait for you. My pain is over. You respond instantly to my cries. Though you have allowed pain and misery, I know it is just my teacher. You are my Teacher. I will see you with my own eyes, face-to-face. I hear your voice behind me saying, "turn around and follow this path to life."

Suddenly, all my idols are worthless. This paper and plastic kingdom starts to look like trash. I'm ready to toss it away. I don't even want to look at it anymore. I would rather live true and pure from your hand. I want the rhythms of life with you: planting and harvest, hard work and true celebration. Brighten my world. Remove this mundance and grey light -- this overcast canopy between my soul and spirit. Shine seven times brighter and more full and clear than the July sun. Heal me from these wounds you've given me. This affliction that has saved my soul. [Isaiah 30:18-26]

Confessions: The Idolatry of Doing

Tonight would be a night for confessions, Friend. But Jesus, you already know what I'm going to say. You've seen how every thing is about doing with me. I'm all about production -- getting things done. I think it makes you sad. I can't just be with you or with anybody. I must be accomplishing something, storing up some kind of productivity points.

I can't stop. It's too important to me. Some kind of false god. Forgive me for my idolatry. I have only learned about my instrumental value. Our materialistic and consumeristic society has only been too eager to be my teacher. If I am useful to others, they will love me. But people are users, and before long use turns into abuse and I end up a tool. Or if not abuse, then I'm prostituting myself for love that should actually be free and it leaves me bitter and resentful. I find myself alone, paranoid that everyone just wants something from me, but that no one wants me. This one wants money, the other time, another affection, another encouragement, someone else advise. But my soul cries out because I do not believe any of them honestly know me apart from my work, nor do they want me. (Like your soul cried out for Israel or still does for the God-manipulating church.) This assumed manipulation cripples me to receive love, if any truly is coming my way, and it cuts me off from your grace. Even if there is real love out there, I have gorged myself on this false approval and cannot stomach the real thing.

Then, darkest of all, I turn on you. I ignore you and go off to myself trying to build a value that cannot satisfy. I work on influence, importance, acheivement as if doing more things for more people is the solution. They are more than willing to make use of my abilities. But you are not. You do not use me. I think it's because you refuse to make me a tool. You can only use me as your child, but not your slave. Only when intrinsic worth saturates my doing and becomes the engine of my soul does my service have any meaning. Only when my the employment of my talents are given as a blessing to you, rather than payment, can you accept them. Otherwise, you would make me a son of hell, rather than a heir of the Kingdom.

Thank you for not using me, as painful as that is to say. And more painful: don't let me corrupt your work with my striving for something I cannot have. I can hardly pray this, because it means I will not be used, therefore I cannot build my worth in the world. But this is the cure for my sick soul. You know people will use me. They use you, worshipping blessings rather then knowing you. And so you remove your blessings because such utilitarianism is deadly to them. Ending my sickness works a double salvation, curing my addiction and cutting off my enablement of theirs. And maybe as my soul starves in this vaacum of human praise and usefulness, it will seek real food at your table. Food that will really feed the world.

I feel thin and naked. Now that you've heard this confession, Jesus, would you rescue me from this body of death? Can you -- who once heard the Father say, "you are my Son, and I'm pleased with you," before you had done a single thing of note -- say the same to my soul in a way these calloused ears can hear? Would you romance this adultrous heart that has no idea what intrinsic worth feels like? I believe in it because I want it. I want it more than anything. But belief has yet to move me. Jesus, please move me. Amen.

Too much traffic

I remeber a day with you ten or more years ago. I was told to find a place outside and listen to you. I was the last one to find a place, so my spot was close to the busy road. When I came back and was asked what I heard, I said "I couldn't hear God because of the traffic."

Father, in my life there is so much traffic. It drowns you out. Mostly the traffic of my own busyness and ambition. When will I learn to wait on you? To sit with you? Just to listen, even if I don't hear anything for a while.

If I believed that you are God, I could spend a whole day doing nothing but seeking you and the world would not crumble, and even my life would continue just as I left it. But somehow, I can't seem to find the fortitude to do just that.

Deep in the core of each of us is a struggle that threatens to claim our souls. It will consume us, torture us, break our wills, steal our uniquness, gifting, and value. It's all these strategies we think are so necessary for life. It's this endless and meaningless striving. We trade in co-craftsmanship with you for the crude work of our own hands alone.

Jesus, your Good News suffers from a lack of disciples. People do not believe in you because they see in your people that believing in you makes no difference. We continue along with our strategies for life, happiness, and fulfillment as if there is no you. But every fiber of the world longs for us to participate in you and for you to participate in us. They want us to need you. They are hoping that life is about some great dance of the finite we and the infinite you. They long to see life that flows from something bigger into we who are smaller and produces results that are better than human.

Disciple my soul. O, disciple my soul. I hunger for importance, value, approval, and accomplishment. But do I hunger for you? Since my actions speak in deafening tones, you must break me as a servant, and build me again as your child.

We do not want you

I am greived by how thinly we want you, even how I want you. If you are the Author of life, we should ask you how it should be lived. If you are the Creator of all beauty, we should learn from you how to see all good things. If you are the Great Physician, we should come to you to be healed. If you are the Giver of Gifts, we should seek to receive what we need from you.

The amazing thing is, we do not. At our core, we believe it is by our action that we live. Deep within us resides a lie that we are our own source and our own destiny. Why do we wish to speak endless chatter with men when we can talk to you, God of the Universe? Why do we long for more of this base and elementary stuff when we could have the wealth of your Kingdom? Why do we act as if our busyness did anything to secure for us a future when so often our efforts fail and our work itself destroys our intended ends?

The tragedy of humanity is not that we are poor or that we suffer or that we are dysfunctional or that we are sinners. These things in themselves are sad and painful, but they do not make up our tragedy. Our tragedy is that we have a hand extented to us to rise out of this pit, and yet we refuse to be delivered. It is as easy as deciding to trust you, Jesus, but for us, that is harder then coming back from the dead.

I want the end

Upon reading Isaiah 5-10...

Father, as I read Isaiah, it is both frightening and affirming. There is only this one human story that repeats over and over again. We -- Christendom and our culture at large -- are no different from the Ancients who abandoned faith in you for faith in self, political might and alliances, partying and hedonism, wealth, approval, self-justification and rationalizing, and many other things. And, also as in those days, you are undermining this idolatry -- this human kingdom building -- with your subversive reality. First, you remove the leaders so men who chase ambition and profit take their place. As they drive the culture on to worse depravity it begins to unravel. Cohesion gives way to consumption. Then, you begin to erode the things we trust -- wealth, power, weapons, etc. The day is coming that all things will be humbled.

Do you do this because you are vengeful? No, I don't think so. This is the only way we can have freedom. Unto us a child has been born, born of the virgin, but we do not see you or the miracle of your coming. Even in the Church, you are a token, and instrument, and a tool, bereft of might, honor, dread, and mystery. But in reality, you are the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. Your Kingdom will never end, and it will know no boundaries. But we will never see you, Immanuel, unless our monstrous kingdoms fall. Unless our world -- the one that boasts in a million ways that is does not need you -- falls, we will not be ready to receive the King of kings. When we are like sheep without a shepherd, then we will be ready for the Shepherd of our Souls.

As hard as it may be to pray, I want the end of our wealth and comfort and safety and influence if it means that the curtain will be pealed back and people will see you, Jesus. I pray for the judgment and destruction of every kingdom that stands against you in my life Jesus. And I pray that those kingdoms will be dismantled in the lives of others -- even my friends and loved ones who depend, use, and prostitute themselves to these things every day. Better that America fall, then we miss your glory and your Kingdom. Better the Church shrinks and the culture of Christendom looses its voice and relevence, if it means we will cease to worship our institutions, structures, and traditions and instead find desperation for you and dependence. Better those I love feel true pain and misery, than to not find life in you and then not find life at all.

Teach me, Jesus, to live and speak prophetically in a world you are decaying. As this world we have created dies and is plowed under, may your Kingdom spring from its demise. Amen.

Branch of Hope

Upon reading Isaiah 4...

Father, let your Branch grow. Our grey poverty -- so unremarkable as to be painful -- needs to see you, Jesus, blossom into beauty and glory. We die for lack of imagination. Our world decays, not from lack of technology, money, or hard work, but for lack of inspiration. Bordem is more dangerous than disease. Lack of color kills more souls than starvation.

Fill the land with your fruit so we can have pride again in something, anything. Cleanse us, Lord. Cleanse us with judgment and fire, but I fear to pray this. If you burn the impurity from us, from our lives, will there be anything left? But nothing and truth, nothing and authenticity, is better than everything and the filth of lies and idolarous compromise. At least if we are stripped clean by judgment and tested by fire we can take pride in honesty.

We need your covering. Not the covering of those who claim to protect us, but really extort us spiritually. Not the covering of our hand's craft and skill. No, we need you to be a cloud and pillar of fire. Shelter us from the angry sun and storm and rain. You are our refuge and hiding place.

Where are the leaders?

Upon reading Isaiah 3...

Where are the leaders, Lord? We are aimless. Where is the hero with his courage and the warrior with his sword? Where is the judge who upholds the truth and the prophet who makes it known. What has happened to the seer who casts vision and the elder who raises up the young? Even the captains, ranking men, counselors, artists, and wiseman are rare. We long for spiritual fathers, but find few. We seek people of vision, but most see nothing except their own ambition. We are nation of children and a church of infants.

We will grab any of our brothers and make them leaders: "You've run a business." "You're wealthy." "You're popular and have some personality." "The people like you, they'll listen to you." We act as if these things could indicate or even replace spiritual gifting and depth of soul. But in reality, many of these leaders we are thrusting forward have no food or clothing in their house for your people. So we are the blind leading the blind. Meanwhile, the truth lies unspoken, the people wander and wonder, and oppression is rampant.

Christendom is staggering as if punch-drunk. The church is reeling and ready to fall. Why? Because we deny your glorious presence and instead walk around with smug but knowing grins and make billboards of our corruption. We parade sin and call it tolerance. We preach against sex, drugs, and the media, but we openly practice greed, bigotry, hatred, cowardice, and self-indulgence. We bow down in prostitution before security, prosperity, relevance, and success. We have ruined your vineyard -- the church, your people. If you follow the trail of money, you will find the poor's meager salaries in our houses. We grind their faces by making them suckers of vain religion, superstitous practices, cruel legalism, and a prosperity Gospel that is little better then religious lottery.

So what can you do with us, Lord? Will you raise up harvesters in these white fields? Are you sending shepherds among your people who are straying? How will you reclaim and replant this vineyard?

The Mountain

Upon reading Isaiah 2...

Lord, raise up your mountain above all others. Nebuchadneezzar saw in fitful dreams a stone cut out by supernatural hands -- the same cornerstone rejected by many -- that ground to dust all other kingdoms and grew to fill the whole earth. This is your Kingdom, Jesus, root of Jesse, Son of David, King of kings, that is established by the hand of God and will never end. The highest mountain from which rivers of grace flow, fresh and clean and which receives the streams of the nation who come seeking God.

Upon this mountain, in this Kingdom, people will seek to learn your ways so they can walk in your paths. They will desire to join your life, identity, and work in the world. Peace will spread from this mountain. Not the thin peace of treaties and cease-fires, but the peace of productivity, of wholeness, and of life. What an amazing vision: that they will convert their tanks into tractors and their nuclear missiles into grain silos. Nation will no longer smart-bomb nation. Military contractors will go out of business and terrorist training camps will sit empty. Oh, let your Kingdom come, Lord. We need this kind of peace now. Come, people of the earth, let us walk in this light of the Lord.

But why does it seem like you are not with us? Why is it that you are not with us and we don't have this peace? We are full of silly ideas from NewAge dreamers -- superstitions and fantasies that help us build a religion of self and a spirituality of indulgence and complacency. We are romanced by psychics and wicans who peddle power they don't understand and flirt with demons. In our "enlightened" pluralism, we shake hands with those who would be the death of us. We trust military might thinking aircraft carriers and tanks and cruise missiles and ICBMs will potect us. We bow down and worship our technology, setting it up to rule our lives. The things our fingers have made become our masters.

So a day is coming when none of this will matter. We will have to face you exposed. Humanity will by and large run and hide when you show yourself. All that claims falsely to be the solution -- all the strategies and paper and plastic junk we trust in -- will be humbled and pealed away. People will toss what they think is so valuable, essential, and precious now to the rats. Like people fleeing in the path of a hurricane, they will run for cover leaving all that they once worshiped behind.

So what can we learn from this vision, Jesus? To stop trusting in man, and the clever gadgets and systems that he creates. What can we really do to save ourselves? Insurance will fail us. Money isn't worth its paper -- it is a promise easily broken. Might, if it is in men, is weak, always ready to fall in the face of the next opportunistic bully.

But you're mountain is a refuge. Your Kingdom is invisible yet close and indestructible. May we learn its ways, Discipler. May we walk its paths with you, Friend. Impress upon my soul the urgency of your Kingdom. Its peace is light in our darkness.

Heavens and Earth bear witness

Upon reading Isaiah 1...

The heavens and the earth bear witness. They have heard what you have said, they have seen what we have done. We have forgotten the you, who gives us life. We've lost our center, the axis upon which our lives turn. We've turned away from you, the hand that feeds us. We are so stupid!

No wonder we are corrupt children. If you are not our King, then we will be a slave to all other tyrants and usurpers. Our strategies for life, which we errect like titantic idols, become cruel and inescapable oppressors. We become twisted little imps beneath their weight, clutching and scratching to survive. Your Kingdom is our freedom.

This is why life sucks. We are beaten until there is not an inch of us that is not a bruise or gaping wound. And yet we still continue in our idiotic impirsonment. Why? Oh, Father, you know the answer. We would rather hold on to the lie we belong to ourselves. Many of us are willing to die for that lie. Many of us do.

Our families are dysfunctional. Our consumerism is unsustainable. The environment chokes on our poisons. We are all vampires on each other, sucking life from our neighbor. We wallow in our loneliness, though surrounded by people. Our lives, though crammed with stuff and full of activity, opulence, and luxury are dead and miserable. We are like ugly, starving children clutching ash piles as if they were treasure. Unless you had awakened some of us, we would have been like Sodom and Gomorrah -- gone without a trace.

Because we fail to admit our poverty to you, our worship is a lie. All of our sacrifices, offerings, feasts, and celebrations amount to manipulation. Though we run before you and fall on our knees to beg you to increase our hideous wealth and preserve the wretchedness of our lives, you take no pleasure in our gifts and refuse to attend our twisted assemblies. You will not bear these chains of our religion. You will not look at us or even listen to our prayers.

Creativity becomes idolatry if not done in response to you, the Creator. Art is only idol making. Worship is not worship, unless it is a conversation with the Living God. But we attempt to please you by making things with blood-covered hands. Our art is perverted by the sickness of our souls and becomes monstrous abominations. We speak empty flattery to you through filthy mouths and feshering lips.

Father, we cannot wash ourselves. Where can we put our evil that you won't see it? Though we try, we cannot stop doing wrong. Who will teach us to do right? We don't know how to seek justice, and have no idea how to encourage and defend the oppressed.

But you say to us,

Come now, let us reason together.
Though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be white as snow;
thought they are crimson,
they shall be like wool.
If you are willing to be obedient,
you will east the best from the land;
but if you resist and rebell,
you will be devoured by the sword.

Our civilization is a slut. We are prostitutes. We give ourselves to anyone and anything that makes us flimsy and plastic promises. Perhpas once we had justice, but now we are all murderers in one way or another -- if not literally, than by how we mentally butcher each other. Everything that we think is precious is really crap. Our passions and beliefs are so watered down we are disgusting. Our leaders are in it for the money, whether politicians or many pastors. Few of them take care of anyone, because there's no money in it.

But you promise that you will purge us. You're going to clean up and make things right again. You will remove those who rebel against you and destroy those who refuse to walk with you. The rest of us will be ashamed of the things we used to trust in and the ways we attempted to manipulate you. Every proud person who trusts in their own strength will go up in smoke, as if they were gasoline and their strategies a spark.

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Almighty God, why in the world do I treat the condition of our race as light thing? Convince my soul that following you is not a beneficial option -- a way to increase both our earthly and heavenly porfolios. It is life, and all those who refuse it will die. Perhaps not because you are vengeful, but because you are the source of life. Apart from you there is nothing, so if we chose "apart from you" that is what we will fall into -- nothing.

This is why discipleship is so serious. This is why the Kingdom must be preached and why we must urgently help people into it. Otherwise, life is crap. I've seen it -- O remind me Spirit -- over and over. Those who choose the Kingdom find life with the King full and pure. They find integrity and honesty. But those who don't end up turning tricks with the johns of every other strategy for living. At first the pay seems good, but before long become despised sluts, abused by the very things that promised to take care of them.

Jesus, I don't want to make sluts out of anyone. How can I help them to fall in love with you, Husband of our hearts? Otherwise, I am only pimping them out to religious practice, vain meetings, false strategies and gross manipulation. I am leaving them to be raped by their own consumerism, materialism, individualism, and hedonism. Only by discipleship to you will they find authenticity, respect, creativity, passion, life. Tell this to my soul that longs to sell easy and cheap tricks and buy into them myself.

A Community of the Committed?

I have a question, Jesus, that I only want you to answer. Some good friends of mine are telling me that the community of faith is really only those who are totally sold out to follow you. They would say that the community should, on the long term, be uncomfortable for those holding out. It is really only a fellowship of true disciples.

While I agree that the ideal for community is one-hundered percent discipleship, I guess I wonder if process is missing from this picture. Throughout history, I feel like your people are on a journey toward deeper and deeper commitment. I'm wondering if community is partly the people of God journeying to discipleship, and then fellowshiping in that discovery. For example, when your disciples were first gathered, they had little idea what it meant to follow you, just a shallow commitment to do so. Some continued as they learned who you were and what following meant, but others dropped out. All the while, the community journeyed together to the cross and beyond until they learned the meaning of "follow me".

While I think discipleships is a one-on-one thing, I also have a deep sense that it is a community thing. Perhaps it is true that there can be no real community until the people commit at some level to follow, but for me right now, that has more to do with direction of intent than with proficientcy or even application (*gasp*). We all fail in follow through, but I'm not sure thast should be the reality, or that it shouldn't (as Ron says "normalize dysfunction" and then work to heal it).

What I need is for you to speak. Teach me heart and soul about this. Whatever the course, whether it is easy or difficult, I want to follow your voice. Is there a place for the observer, skeptic, and uncommitted in community? Should we be a community with a tight center but blurry margins? Does it hurt us to have the nominal and stubborn in our midst, if we understand the seriousness of following? How militant should we be about discipleship? Should we read the narrative of the disicples dispensationally, or was your time with them when they weren't fully committed just as much The Community and the growth process as what happened after Pentecost? How can I discipline myself to use my maxium effort on behalf of those who truly desire discipleship? Should I not use time and resources on those who do not?

I could even use some help on the correct questions to ask. Amen.

I Want to Hear

I asked a question yesterday and heard no answer from you, Jesus. "What has delighted you about me lately?" It hung in the air unanswered. Maybe there was nothing for you to say. Maybe there was nothing I could hear. I cant list out all the things that must grieve you about me, but this other list is short; Non-existent.

The Accuser wants me to forget you. So he throws out questions: "Does God really care about you?" "Will he really provide?" "Shouldn't you be working towards the things you want yourself?" "Do you really think you're worthy to receive the things you ask for?"

The fact that I can say volumes about what I am not, but little about what I am to you, makes me think I'm not hearing your voice. The accusations of the father of lies fill my ears, but where is your truth? Like a weak-kneed son, I am more willing to hear the taunting, nagging criticism that comes from everywhere but you, then I am to hear what you think of me. I could not bear if it is less than what I hoped for and I am afraid it is more than I could imagine.

So teach my heart to risk and open my ears to you. I would rather hear your voice, true and pure, than all other voices, including mine. Speak and I will listen.

Lord of Boredom

O, Jesus, be the Lord of my boredom and complacency. There are days when I think there is no magic in our belief to make all things better and new. On those days, like this day, my impotent faith seems stagnant, turned sour by doubt. Maybe this gospel really doesn't change anything. Maybe our progress is the same as everyone else who does good, but without you, Jesus.

But on the other hand, maybe days like this one are to remind me there is no magic. And that there is no healing for the nations unless they come to you and receive it from your hands. Am I surprised when our wavering faith and wandering hearts fail to receive what we hope for? But you are sovereign. You are Lord, even in the grey and mundane. Even when nothing is happening. Such blankness stirs our forgetful souls to seek you again.

A Prayer in the Darkness

"Love" is the stuff of vain words that fall short of action. They grow stale and cold like expelled breath not long after they are expressed. Our unworthy and faithless race finds telling easy but showing hard. We are all talk. Wasted breath.

What do we know of love in this world? Lovers are mostly takers. At best, they are loyal if it serves them. Friends are seldom true. The cliches about human connection seem mostly lies, fleeting and cruel. Like a taunting and sarcastic gift that raises hope to increase the insult. When I think of all the self-inflicted pain of our existence, and the generous helpings of sorrow we serve to each other, what light is there in the ocean of our corruption, ignorance, and delusion?

I would despair if not for you, Brother, Friend. I would be alone to face the darkness within me -- within us all. One pair of healing hands. One couple of steadfast feet. One set of honest lips. One. But, enough.

O, take us all, broken as we are, Jesus, Redeemer. Breath into us again the life we lost when we choose self-living. You are spring and summer in our winter world. You are resurrection in our death. Can you embody these hands, and make them do good? Can they learn more than their thievery and life-taking? Will you slip into these feet and make them stay? All they have ever known is fearful flight and running after cheap desire. And would you speak through these lips and make them say truth? Their every twist and curve is for lying and cursing.

Live in us, Jesus. Live in us. Or we are nothing, and worse. Clothe us, hide our shame, our ugliness. The hope of our world -- my world -- is when you so indwell each human shell that all things are remade. When we are an army by incarnation, the body of God Almighty himself, then darkness will be overcome by light divine. Hands will do good, even to the bad. Feet will stand faithfully, despite fear and enticements. Lips will speak authentic words, and manipulative flattery will be drowned out by deep-rooted praise.

I groan for this redemption. I grown to see that which is not me in me removed, so I might be the me in you. If not by grace and gentle words, then by judgment and the sword. Release us, Savior, Lord of of Hosts, from these chains -- if not by the fresh rain of blessing, then by fire. And when we are tilled and made ready, plant within us your life, your Word, so we may live in you and forever leave behind the hatefully and despised lie that we live from and to ourselves. Amen.

Your Time

To everything there is a season. A time to wait and a time to take action. A time of rest and a time of great struggle. Teach me, Jesus, about your time. I am tempted to make things happen. I want results and inaction feels like condemnation. But you are always in the Father's time, cooperating with his will, plan, and provision. You are seemless -- One -- moving together in the same motion.

But perhaps, when you teach me about your time, you will not tell me of all the things past nor all that is to come. Nor will you tell me how to know the seasons. Instead, you will incline my heart to listen and simply be in the moment you have given me. I am so finite, it is enough for me to live each moment to its fullness, as you did Brother, Friend. Call my soul to match your hours and the rhythm of your life. Amen.

Home

Everyone is looking for home, Lord. We want our place in this world. We fear that there is no rest for our weary souls, and this fear drives a great many stupid things.

Show us, Father, that the home we seek is no city built by human hands. No, it is a city whose builder and architect is you. You are home. Someday we will dwell with you in that city, a thousand miles long, wide, and high. And there will be no sun and moon, for you will be our light. And in the center of that city flows a river between the trees of life that offers healing to the nations. You are home.

The Relationship Tree

Is relationship like a tree, Father: the leaves feeling, the trunk and branches shared experience, and the roots commitment? If so, we can loose the leaves and they will grow back, whether by storm or the cold of winter. In fact we should expect them to fall away sometimes and return in the next green season. And we can even loose the trunk and branches, thought this is much more serious and harder to grow back. These parts are only lost through severe storms and the cutting work of man. Recovery is slow and the result will be a largely different tree. But if we loose the roots, we are without hope. We must plant another tree.

Commit us to you, Lord, and to each other. Coventant with our souls and teach us faithfulness. Grow in us a shared experience in you and with each other. May we know you and may we see you. And let these roots and these branches bud and blossom into joy and zeal for you and for love. Amen.

The Mystery of Christ

Lord, you have not given to us the "science of Jesus" to broadcast. Instead, you have called us to proclaim the mystery of Christ. What arrogance it would be to think we knew all there was to know about, you, Incarnate Word, Mighty God, Wonderful Counselor, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, Brother, Friend. You are to deep to fathom. You depth is to rich with life and newness.

Never let us think we have figured you out Jesus. Instead, wrap us in mystery. Romance us into the quest of seeking you, knowing you, following you. It is our souls longing for you which produces all motion within us. Satisfaction leads to stagnation and death. Chasing after you is the one pursuit deep and long enough to make us truly alive.