Truth

I have been created by God, not man.  I live for Him, not you.  It is He who determines my worth, not her.  I am created for a reason, so intricately designed, and delicately and thoughtfully made.  Why is that you , that man so annoyingly and conveniently continues to try to get in the way of that?  Satan so deceivingly weaves his lies in and through my mind, to tell me, my worth, to lie to me.  But for me, it’s so cleverly and “beautifully” wrapped, I fall for it.  But all the while, it is Him, that is telling the truth.  It is what He says, has said, and has done that matters.  It is for Him that I should live.  He is the one that so loves me that He would come to Earth to take on wrath and sin and death for me, so that I can live.  He wants to take on me, all of me, all of that I am, the filth, the garbage, the sadness, the hardship, take it and carry, because He loves me, and He did, and does carry it.  He is the one that has a plan for me, His opinion is the one that matters above all else.  He is the one that has a purpose for me; I wasn’t created for nothing.  He didn’t give me talents and gifts and passions for nothing.  I wasn’t created for nothing.  I matter.  I am not here for man.  I am not here for worldly approval.  It is much greater than that.  After all, I’m not from here, this is not where my citizenship lies.  What can man do to me?  I walk around like their opinion matters, far more than His.  But why?  I walk around like this place is better than my Heavenly home.  I get so caught up in the deceivings of this world, but it does not compare to my God and what He has planned for me here and oh my, what is going on Up There.

Words.

(The other day) A thought I had a few minutes ago.  I have this sentiment a lot, but these are these words I was thinking..."I wish that I could lay my heart on a piece of paper and it would write out all its thinking (feeling) as opposed to me trying and failing and not doing justice because its inevitably seemingly impossible to use words to explain how I feel about things."  It's true because I may read about something so horrid that has happened in someone's life or someone may tell me something that has effected them greatly (two real life recent instances) and I feel so much, but I just can't gather the words to say.  It's happened a lot lately.  I feel so strongly towards something, but it doesn't seem that any words/word will be able to suffice how I feel.  Because words is our medium or least our most common medium to explain how we feel about something.  And I could try to word how I am feeling by writing or speaking until I have no more words, but still I don't think that would be enough.  And isn't it annoying when we don't even know how to express something using words?  We don't even know the words to use?  We could use other mediums like painting or playing music or something, but would that suffice either?  And when I want to explain something that can't be explained because there aren't words to explain their depth or their intensity is even more frustrating.  When I want to explain something that is beyond horrid.  And I could describe it, but still words would fail.  Something could be so beautiful, but only so many words would do...they would still run out.  I am so thankful for words and the ability I have to use them and the capability.  I am glad they are means for me to express and to describe, but I will admit the frustration that comes when I can't describe the way my heart feels.  There are times when my head is full and my heart so heavy that I don't even know where to begin nor do I want to try to figure how to explain how I am feeling or what I am thinking.  There are times, like that when I am just at  a loss for words, but perhaps this is appropriate, perhaps this is supposed to happen, maybe I don't always need to speak.  And perhaps we aren't mean to fully be able to describe, perhaps that's a part of wonder and amazement and I think it's the reality that I am a mere human and I do have limits.  Which is a frustrating reality.  Perhaps it is also a reminder of where I stand in comparison to God, a humble reality check maybe?  He's the one in control, not me.  But as my previous sentiment allows, it would be crazy but ever so helpful if my heart could just write or even speak for itsself, wouldn't it?  Or maybe if I could just open my mouth and I could just start speaking what my heart felt?  Or maybe I could hold a pen in my hand and it would start writing.  I see the reality, but it's inevitably still difficult when I feel so much, but I can only say some much.  But, I guess I will also repeat that I am really thankful for words, nonetheless.  So, what do I do with this?  Do I remain dissatisfied?  Do I realize that I am blessed and move on?  Do I learn to write more?  Because in fact, I do love words, but I am not always diligent in using them.  Hmmm...

Josh Garrels IN:5 // Love

Keys

The door is locked by a small, but powerful and quite effective lock,

We look through the key hole to see what’s on the other side, but we can’t open it without the key,

The lock and the key have quite the relationship, one cannot work without the other

It’s really mind blowing to think that the only thing that stops us from getting to the other side is one, rather small, seemingly fairly insignificant handcrafted key

The lock is small and so is the key, but they both work together to form a powerful bond that keep that door from opening.

It only takes the key entering the key hole and turning the right way in the lock, for the door to open.

As we look in the key hole, we see a glimpse of the other side, we long to be there and to experience what’s there. 

It’s very intriguing when we’ve never been on the other side, we don’t know what awaits us.

There is obviously a reason why the door is locked, actually perhaps it isn’t a door.

Maybe it’s a chest, or a safe, or a diary, maybe a locket.

Either way, it is locked and there is a reason for it.

Maybe we locked it or maybe someone else did.  

Perhaps we’ve never seen the other side. 

Perhaps we’re not supposed to, maybe that’s why it’s locked.

Maybe we’re being protected from the other side.

Something awaits us.

Again, I can’t help but think about how small a lock and key, and key hole can be, yet something rather significant and great can lie on the other side.

The strong and significant bond that is created between the lock and keys is a picture of the great role of the two.

They work together to protect something or even someone. 

People lock the door to their homes to keep people from entering,

Safes are locked, typically very strategically and securely, to keep people from getting the valuables within.

Lockets are locked, and so are diaries; we want to keep what’s dear to us from other people’s eyes.

Caged doors in prisons are bolted and locked to keep the prisoners in the jail.

Caged doors on animal cages are locked and bolted to keep them in, so they don’t hurt anyone.

There is a purpose for keys and locks.

As we continue to look through the key hole, we long to be on the other side, but perhaps this particular key hole will never see a key entered through it, well at least not while we’re around.

Perhaps what we’re seeing through this particular key hole is all we’re going to see.

Maybe we’re being protected from something greater than we even know.

It’s amazing to think that such a thing as a lock can keep us from so much, can protect us from so much.

Or maybe it’s not protection, but it’s neglect.

Maybe it would be better for us to see the other side, at it’s fullest, but perhaps we’re being kept from it.

There’s a great reason why someone invented keys and locks. 

Their bond is remarkable.  But is it always a good thing?

To be kept from something?

Because we don’t always have the power to unlock something, we don’t have the keys.

How do we determine what should be locked and shouldn’t be?