hunted with thunderstorm

It’s that little thought that starts the whole thing…that small little whisper that mimics majesty and True intimacy, bading you, come and listen.

“What you have in God is not enough…He cannot be a teardrop and terrential downpour. He cannot be the specifics and the stars…Somewhere in between all that depth, your heart will always want and need more!” 

For me, almost always it starts as an outrageous whisper…First spilling mutiny into the air…declaring open war against my heart and my energies…it asks me to choose outright rebellion against God.

“You deserve to be happy, to be filled, to eat and drink your contentment in any and all forms…you alone know your heart Justin…who better than you to dictate everything and anything that should surround it and enter it? It’s your right to choose what’s best. You know you think God to be too lofty at times to truly be of absolute portion to you, for you, all the time, in the little times…(whispered) right now.”

Often times I try and interrupt this forked-tongue sermon, as that’s the best as I can describe it…for it truly must slither its way up to me in order to go unnoticed, and yet, be just noticed enough. The enemy is a poet to me, aquanited with my intimacy. He is the the father of Lies, but all too easily I think we demote such sinister and insidious character as to being incapable.

I think we like to think…

cue the 1:00am Geese

I was sitting outside around 1:00am the other night. I was doing nothing more than trying to escape the rare 90 degree Portland late-night heat. I set down my book after absorbing another chapter and thought I would just listen for a while…to the night…to the unfortunate sounds of the the law enforcement and the petty crime that wage war in the nooks and crannies of our neighborhood…perhaps I was hoping to just hear the ’still small voice’ that He often opts for.

I sat there laying in the thick grass which could have used a haircut…although I preferred it sidewalk wild unarguably more than it’s pending fresh cut which was surely only days away. Nothing more than a few sounds filled the air in any direction…trees rustling, murmuring car motors, wind tip-toeing in and out of the more docile ambiance. And just then, as though it were some divine practical joke, a flock of a good 50 or so geese flew over head. At first their collective honking blended in with the distant murmuring of car motors…although awkwardly different. It couldn’t hide its true identity for very long, for as they neared the only thing keeping me convinced it was not a flock of geese was the hour in which they chose flight.

I forget too easily…

I am often randomly and powerfully reminded of God’s majesty, and just how silly our greatest attempts at just about anything fall short in comparison to Him…for out of His fingers, breath, and His very being come the ferocity and fulcrum of all True power. This was one of those simple yet powerful reminders.

windy secrets

The wind has secrets here. 

…confidently it finds me, playing tag with all its friends around my neck, ears, and lips and nose. It would make a great Lover.

It runs free in this place…not broken or detoured by buildings and bridges. If I listen just closely enough I can hear the otherwise inaudible secrets that carry Truth in their arms. The wind is so very perfect without anyone…not dependent or desiring anyone or anything save for the God that gave it Life before it ever gathered speed.

I wonder what the wind would think of me if it had eyes to see the scattered heart it races ’round? What words would it would choose to encourage me to follow that which I thankfully can never escape…that which I know to be true…that God will always be enough…That there is so much more to see and be to be inspired by in this world than the selfish rumination of what so very easily and widly races from my thoughts to my heart. 

But the wind too has secrets.

It spills together the romantic

forever He rains

“Chance of sunshine taday…pure brilliant if yer lookin’ fer a not-so-wet day out’tha hoose.”

Not even 10 minutes old, and my morning was already being entrusted to a total stranger. Through swollen pillow-eyes and the unavoidable morning breath that we all fall prey too, I sat allowing my ears to be tickled with the sounds of science’s best attempt to soothsay mother nature. I feel like being a weatherman in Scotland would at least allow for the possibility to gage nature’s next move with relatively reliable accuracy…I mean, c’mon, it’s Scotland, the forecast will always call for the good chance of rain, or of threatening clouds overhead. So yeah, for some reason my morning reporter tried to get all fancy and defy every other network’s prediction by claiming sun was a “good chance.”

Needless to say it freakin’ poured like cats and dogs…and walruses, and perhaps an elk…and other large awkward animals that if imagined falling from the sky would humorously denote massive Scottish raindrops! The rain literally makes love to the wind on its way down here in Scotland…it ends up blasting upwards from the ground as if all the water were slingshot toward our trampoline streets to bounce back at us like wild eyed kids.

 But there I was, walking down the quiet streets of Irvine after a long 11 hour day in Glasgow…and then it came…gentle at first almost like messenger drops…and then some of the more skilled assassin droplets, sneaking into places like the raindrop sized opening between your neck and jacket…amazing little guys. And then, as if all the pipers in the country called it forth with one giant breath…it just came…endless, streaming, slightly to the side-like rain.

It was glorious and soaking!

I hid my guitar beneath a nearby awning big enough for me and my six stringed friend, but immediately, as if someone had yanked on my backpack and thoughts all at once, I stumbled back into the rain on purpose. And so, as if the sandal wearing, cargo short sporting, U.S. Air Force sweatshirt wearing American didn’t already stand out enough in a baltic “sunny” Scottish day, I made a complete fool out of myself as I stood in the rain. I stood there until the rain grew tired, protesting with little kid abandon and pride… the way we would almost rather pass out rather than give up our “tunnel breaths.”

At first the rain ran down over me much like the last time I had committed this act…but my senses had long since forgotten this dance, and I moved into …I spilled into its every way, tripping back and forth across my closed eyes, hands held out, head lofted to the grey sky above. The rain tasted delicious…Scottish rain should be the first thing you taste upon entering the country.

And so, as I sat there not having a care in the world, which I know had to be somewhat true because the shuffling of footsteps slowly passing me by made me realize in my rainy moment that nearly a dozen people had had to maneuver around me on the small European sidewalk. Haha, I think a bus might have stopped too…maybe that’s where all the people came from (grin). Too bad I don’t care about appearances, save for what my King sees His kid inspiringly led to do.

God had allowed Satan to fill that weather man in the morning and spread his lies to get me to this exact moment. Okay, so maybe not something that theologically intense, but I was here at providence’s bidding nonetheless. There was something He needed to tell me in only the way I can ever truly allow something between Him and I to go unhindered and without hesitation to my heart…in His wild creation sitting as nothing more or less than a little boy, watching and listening.

While I didn’t have a Damascus experience, with the booming voice from above, this was more of a ‘mountain top’ experience, whereby I had God communicate His simplicity and Love to me in the most majestic and tailor-made way imaginable. He is so relentlessly romantic sometimes…and easy on the eyes too.

…I didn’t die for you to try and Live for me…you either Love me enough to Live or you Love me so little that you still want to hang on to something…anything. The simplest of wisdoms to my heart repeatedly pour forth from His heart to mine…

“Just let go…I only said you could borrow your problems anyway…so, do you Love me, or not?”

Thankfully I did not deny him thrice…and no rooster crowed. What did happen was Christ, through thousands of little reminders splashing on my face, made me look at Him…I looked into His deep eyes longer than our fleeting attention span for a blog entry… especially one of my boring ones…longer than it takes to send a text… longer than it takes to check your myspace… and yes, even longer it takes most of us to pray…I just stopped my supposed “life” and abided, on the spot, in the rain, like a follower/fool.

I cried so quietly, and secretly with the rain…no one knew I was streaming along with the sky. I can’t remember the last time I cried without feeling shame as an instigator. I recommend it highly!

I love Jesus Christ more than I will ever endear any woman to my heart, (save my close second of a wife) more than I will ever commit to any dream, even those come true… and yes, He is even something I will Love more than myself, which is something, while I do ran the gamut of insecurities, I’ve managed to all but devote myself to.

So, next time it starts to grey up outside, and you feel like you and all musical instruments should be nowhere near the pending “sunshine” to come… consider that the clouds above might have been an intimate post-it stuck right before your eyes from God, simply trying to get your attention… not just to slow down…but to stop everything you’re doing… and just listen to Him. I pray for everyone’s spontaneous courage to act like fools to the world in this way… 

stop everything we’re doing…everything we think is important..

and simply… taste the rain/catch handfuls of it/listen to Him/mix your tears in it/pray/get soaked/Live  

Forever does He rain!