ongoing intimate exchange

    That which is of the flesh is flesh; spirit, spirit. Is our approach to the word the education of our minds for improving our judgment? If so, then we are philosophers, not disciples. Instead we should seek to fill our hearts at all times with the truth, so that His Spirit can be fruitful with it, accomplishing His purposes in our lives.
    Philosophy means, love of wisdom. unfortunately for man this means love of foolishness, because man's wisdom is astronomically separated from God's wisdom. In short, it is rejection of Jesus' leadership of our lives, rejection of His good judgment, seeking instead a 'way' of life governed by our own judgment, eliminating the need for trust, love. 
    Sadly, it seems much of the western church has this approach to Christ, as I did until recently, taking everything they learn of Him, even by revelation of the Holy Spirit, and using it in an attempt to mold a Christian philosophy by which they can rule their lives. I do not say that they understand that this is what's happening, or that it is willful continuance of self rule vs. surrender.  We act as if He can't see our hearts, as if He doesn't know our thoughts. Our problem is simply, that we don't believe. 
    If you must have a philosophy, it is this, trust in His word, becoming its expression to heaven and earth. Our fruitfulness when approached with philosophical inquiry is not built up by much study of man's wisdom, but by immersion in the the truth, keeping in our hearts a ready supply for the Spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him to draw upon, preparation for hearing the Spirit's response to some poor soul's heart, not his argument. Should we 'convert' even areas of our own lives, by reason rather than by hope in Him, we have done possibly the greatest injustice. There is only one reasoning of value, that which exalts Him as one who Is, and is a rewarder of those that continue to seek Him. 
    Once we become enlightened to a higher calling, and purpose, we can easily note the futility of earthly toil. We quickly lament over an ecclesiastical world view crying, vanity! Nothing has purpose but that which has eternal purpose. Toward the eternal disposition of human souls is the only labor with any lasting product, infinite reward, their eternal life! Distress would have us lost, desperate, without hope for finding His purpose for our lives in this world. The truth is the exact opposite, that our lives carry His purpose to the world. 
    Whatever we do, we do not as unto men, but as unto the Lord. We live hungry for the word of life, working in this world, not to be filled with its fruit, but to fill it with ours (His goodness). We embrace His good pleasure in our labor to His glory, enduring not toward satisfaction, drunkenness in the best offerings of this age, but strengthened, filled with the fullness of His Spirit to overflowing.  Our joy abounds, seemingly without explanation to the natural eyes of man, but full of the truth and abiding with His Spirit, we are ready with an answer. They see us meet threatening circumstances without fear because our hope is sure, calamity with gladness, because we really do know that all things work for our good. 
    As I remember the condition of my heart not long ago now, I wonder if having read such as this is I might be pressed with a greater frustration than before. Often I find myself relieved of pressures which I'm convinced I understand yet haven't any answers to, in exchange for those having qualities with which I am unfamiliar, deepening the troubled disposition of my soul. This is the mercy of God, that my mind is incapable of offering a reasonable objection to trusting in His loving leadership. He is with you. 
    His original instruction to us was, Be fruitful and multiply. To that Christ added,Take up your cross and follow me. So, what must we do? Decide how and where we'd like to live as dead and be fruitful as one barren. We are to love without regard for personal loss, and work diligently without regarding ourselves as having brought forth anything, but this is possible only by our trust in the ongoing intimate exchange of all with the Father, through Jesus, by His Spirit. 

filled with His body, drunk on His blood

Its really quite beautiful. He couldn't be led by dependence on this world's bread, because he was full, having the father's word to sustain him. even as his body was broken he thanked the father that we could be dependent on his word in the same way, to even greater measure.  Likewise he emptied himself of satisfaction with this world's pleasure, delighting instead in communion, oneness with the Spirit of God, pouring out his blood, his life, that he might pour into us His life, His very Spirit! That refusing to be drunken with the spirit of this age which leaves us so very thirsty, we could know the great satisfaction of becoming one with the living waters! 
This is my testimony of Jesus Christ, I extend it to you. He was broken for you, and confidence in his sustenance of your every moment is already yours if you'll have it. Be filled with his truth and never lack any good thing. His blood spilled to give you life, the deep pleasure of experiencing his compassionate heart and delight in you. Receive his Spirit now, drink deeply, and never be conquered by another false hope.

I will turn

your voice, still calls my name, but i'm not ready to confront my shame, and I will run from you
your touch, still lights that flame, but i'm afraid to show you all I am, and I will turn from you again, I will run from you
but when you look at me that way, it changes everything, when you look at me that way
can't you see, i'm livin in peace, i've made a place for every little thing
hey, don't you know i'm not the type for you, I know i'm not the kind that you would choose
so I turn from you again, yeah I run from you
but when you look at me that way, it changes everything, when you look at me that way

when you look at me that way, it changes everything, when you look at me that way
rightful king, righteous judge xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

blessed saviour, holy one i know you, just can't bear to look, on this your prodigal son 

in all his shame, so I turn away, yeah I run from you
but when you look at me that way, it changes everything, when you look at me that way

but when you look at me that way, it changes everything, when you look at me that way
all i've seen, all i've heard about your love, and all it means

all i am and all i've been or will ever be, has changed
so speak and I'll listen, oh bathe me in the fire of your affection
take me up into your arms, i've finally found my home, here in you
cause when you look at me that way, it changes everything

longing for the light

 “The lamp of the body is the eye.  If therefore your eye is good, your whole body will be full of light.  But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness.” -Jesus

What disturbed me the most was the pervasive confidence in an understanding, a wisdom that failed to incorporate or even attempt to address that which was beyond the veil.  It was as if everyone had set all their hopes and purposes for this life on that which was secondary, their wills being directed by what their talents could afford them.  I believed in truth, justice and equity.  I couldn’t accept that some were exalted while others were humiliated merely by nature of their composition, whether strong or intelligent or weak or simple.  Seeing this in the world strengthened my despair.  I would not cast aside what I knew was true.  One prospers while another starves.  I withdrew from my education, my socialization, my assimilation into this system that uses bread as a medium of the will.  I wouldn’t move another step closer to being manipulated by the fear of hunger.  Twelve years old, curled up in a ball on my cousin’s floor, I was having an identity crisis.  They determined that I was clinically depressed, abnormalities of levels of certain chemicals in my brain, a sickness.  How blind they were.  My body and mind were functioning perfectly well, and responding with impeccable precision to the spiritual reality that I was encountering.

probably a little confused

When I was 15 years old my mother threw my stereo out of the second story window. She said I was bringing demons into the house through the music I chose to play. I had always been aware of another reality. At times I saw the world we know as only a paper thin covering over something underneath, something of greater substance yet somehow tied to all we know. I also believed in God and devils, but thought of them as existing in some realm infinitely detached from ours, not intimately connected and active in it. The idea that devils just pop up wherever the right music plays was plainly ridiculous, especially coming from a mother that had asked me for some pot the week before. Angry, frustrated and probably a little confused, I stormed out of the house. My analytical mind would not withdraw from the conflict without being satisfied as to how a rational or even an irrational person could arrive at such conclusions. My mother had not made the statement lightly; she knew it. This troubled me. Eliminating every assumption, I considered whether it could be true. Insanity. The implications of her statement actually being correct were incalculable.

Walking down the street about half a block from my house, I threw up my arms and said, “If this is real, SHOW ME.”

“Call unto me, and I will answer you and show great and mighty things that you know not of.” Jeremiah 33:3

I had been embracing darkness, inviting destruction into every area of my life. I had sung countless incantations calling forth every evil imaginable and summoned devils again and again, never knowing the serious nature of the ‘good tunes’ I had listened to so many times. In the weeks immediately following my request, I heard several songs I had listened to numerous times, hearing for the first time the spirit at work in them, and coming to know the purpose they served in enslaving the children of God.

a paper thin covering

I first understood revelation as if a black sheet or curtain had been pulled in front of everything true, everything sure and trustworthy, and that covering was being drawn back a little at a time.  The autumn after I turned twelve I became painfully aware of this dark veil, as though a small fire had been lit on my side of it, serving only to reveal with brief flashes in what a great darkness we all lived.  Some of my family may remember this as a torturous time for me.  I suffered terribly with what I could not define, a longing for the light, true life.  Despair gripped me as it seemed no other was aware of this one needful thing, or had given up hope so long ago as to have forgotten it completely.  The wisest people I knew, those I respected, those I trusted, those who had been my saviors in times of trouble sought to ease my distress with elevated perspectives of the goings on in this world.  They offered world views that they had adopted in order to live contently in the darkness; of course they didn’t see it that way.  The problem was not that I wasn’t content with ‘my world’.  The problem was that from that which my eyes could look upon, to the wonders found in the furthest expanse of the universe, everything screamed of a government which no one seemed to recognize.  All of the marvelous and wonderful phenomena, the magnificent beauty found in the earth, in the depth of the sea, the far reaches of space, math, science, great understanding and every mystery clearly existed only to serve a hidden reality.  I would not be comforted.  Somehow I knew the authentic; I could never be convinced of the counterfeit.  The world we knew, bright as some of it might be, was that black veil.