The Silent Scream

Serene as Sunday, my cries to You break through the silent barrier as You demolish the icy walls of my heart.

The same God who created Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, predestining their purposes long before they breathed their first breaths, speaks to my soul. The tears I cry are not as much about regret for who I was as they are over who You are to me.

It's at this moment that I scream, at least I think I have, but it's one only we can hear. The screams are ones I want the world to hear. How is this possible? I do not wonder long, for to spend more time dwelling on how than relishing with joy and gratitude in my soul does You a disservice. It is a mystery that in my wickedness You would want to touch me with Your Holy right hand, but it's one I do not care to solve. I just enjoy, Lord.

How great it is to serve You, the one who knows more of the depravity of my nature than even I, and yet, You write peace on my heart!

Now that I know You, I am more responsible than ever to let others know who You are. Thank You for Your hope.

Reciprocate

I used to write songs in high school. I wrote about life as I saw it, the heartbreak I'd never had, the loss I'd never witnessed and the love I'd never experienced. Even when I fell in love, my songs lacked substance and were subsequently scrapped by the end of the first verse. My instrument of choice for these fragments? N/A apparently because I can't play anything. I dabbled in piano/keyboard my senior year, but it never stuck because, like everything else, I lost interest. I still try my hand at songwriting sometimes, but never has it been such a cohesive effort as it was this morning.

I had finished reading part of James 1 about the escalation of from desire to death and was enjoying a hot bath. I was praying to God about everything that troubles my mind when suddenly I got the urge to write these beautiful words, "The God who won't leave or forsake, I must now reciprocate." Usually, when something strikes me, I must instantly rush to the putting a pen to paper, lest my words be forgotten. This time, however, the words remained fresh, and I hummed them in praise until I was finally able to record them in a notebook.

As writing went on, it became more apparent to me that, unlike prior efforts, God had provided these words. While other songs spoke of personal development or bitterness, this one was about the merciful nature of the God I serve. Also, I changed the bridge so that it now reads, "I cannot reciprocate." I felt this because to truly reciprocate feelings, one must symmetrically provide the same dedication as the subject they are reciprocating. As humans, we will never truly reciprocate God's love. It is many things we are not (e.g., divine). So here are the words I was given. I call this, "Reciprocate".

Brought from the things of earth so bright
Ensnared in Your marvelous light
Was blind and in the wilderness
Apprehended by your grace

You have done a work in me
I can only celebrate
The God who won't leave or forsake
I cannot reciprocate
I cannot reciprocate
I cannot reciprocate

The God who knew me, knows me now
And I know I know he
I searched so long for a greater love
Now I'm back here at your feet
I left His will, said, "Do your worst."
His mercy did not rest
He captured me from my own sins
Bestowed on me His best

Encumbered by the rope that I
Had tied around my hands
You set me free from misery
So hard to understand

Sought out my soul and took control
I cannot fathom half
Of what could bring you to love me
When on your love I spat

Still You have done a work in me
I can only celebrate
The God who won't leave or forsake
I cannot reciprocate
I cannot reciprocate
I cannot reciprocate

The God who knew me, knows me now
And I know I know he
I searched so long for a greater love
Now I'm back here at your feet
I left His will, said, "Do your worst."
His mercy did not rest
He captured me from my own sins
Bestowed on me His best

I built my temples to the world
They did not answer me
I fell before your altar and
You touched me instantly
Oh you touched me instantly

You have done a work in me
I can only celebrate
The God who won't leave or forsake
I cannot reciprocate
I cannot reciprocate
I cannot reciprocate

The God who knew me, knows me now
And I know I know he
I searched so long for a greater love
Now I'm back here at your feet
I left His will, said, "Do your worst."
His mercy did not rest
He captured me from my own sins
Bestowed on me His best

About the switch from second to third-person: The chorus is telling others about God's perfect love and everything else is basically praising Him for what He has done.

This was a blessing to me. God is good always.

The Captive Mind

I am a most terrible lover. I spend my time telling the One I love that there is no other, no worldly idol that gets in the way of our relationship. I tell myself that by listening to the right music, or choosing not to watch the wrong programs, I am doing God's work, as if I have a quota of upright deeds to meet every day, leaving hours of time to burn. In reality, my love for Him is flawed beyond my own belief. I praise Him with my mouth, but my actions reflect those of a calloused criminal, that is until the moment after my weaknesses materialize. It is then that I am thrown into the depths of my own defeat, thrust into further insecurity and self-loathing. What hurts most of all is the thoughts I am plagued with: "You are not saved" or "Your chance has passed." There is an endless roster of the enemy's most disparaging claims about Seann Combs.

In each occurrence, there is the crucial moment where I must make one of two decisions: to continue in His direction, or defeatedly run with my tail between my legs in the opposite direction. In each past occurrence, I have wittingly or unwittingly chosen the latter, leading to further insecurity, increased bitterness, and intensified rage. It wasn't until recently, when faced with my recurring ultimatum, that I realized my foolishness in the past.

To abandon joy based merely on the first incident of defeat is as if I am denying Christ's ability to do a work in each of us. If I don't believe that Christ can love me, then He can't love anyone, because what would make me so special that I would be His exception? Why would I be the one soul that can never be cleansed by the blood?

That's just how the enemy gets those cogs turning in my mind. He wields my past shrewdly, a weapon of great magnitude when used adversely. He tempts me with sinful, self-destructive thoughts, and then waits in the bushes for me to commit the sin. Satan knows that once I have committed the sin, I will feel isolated from the very One to whom I should run. If I am at the point where I don't consider myself capable of being forgiven, the enemy has done his job.

That is precisely why I have chosen the path of most resistance, clinging steadfastly to what I have read in God's word. My mother always says she doesn't want to give the enemy too much credit; I was practically handing him "Employee of the Month" through my doubt. In the battlefield of the mind, there are booby-trapped caverns that if we are not careful, will make the sharp decline from detour to destination. By asking God to hold my thoughts captive, the fear subsides, and by faith, I continue in Him, careful not stop and see the sights, or submit to the advertisements along the way.

Faith Enough

"O Lord my God, I called to you for help
and you healed me." -Psalm 30:2

A few months ago, I learned that my Mema, 82, was experiencing renal failure (one kidney shut down, another was functioning at a low percentage of its capacity). Instantly, I started trying to compose myself for her funeral, a task in itself because I was in tears at the time. I had given up all hope and was merely biding the time before I had to say goodbye to my beloved grandmother. It's such a shame that as a church-goer for more than twenty years, I was the one who had no solution. Nonetheless, I prayed out of superstition, still unconvinced I held any weight over the outcome. I've prayed every night since, and stronger than ever since the Lord has taken hold of me.

Now, I'd like for us to board the Delorean for a moment and visit Thursday, July 9, 2009. For those of you who don't have a reminder on your monitor, that is today's date. I visited my Mema today, and she gave me the news that both kidneys are currently operating! What's more is that she actually attributed it to God. It opened up a small window for us to discuss faith, and though brief, I am most thankful that we were able to discuss the importance of faith. I heard optimism today like never before!

Praise God for His miracles! When you are backed into the proverbial corner, and the enemy is within arms length of your very being, don't forget He who is in control at all times. God doesn't get writer's block: He knows what to do with us now as much as He did at our beginning. Please keep my Mema in your prayers, and don't ever put your faith in a percentage, because I can promise you that God is operating beyond his infinite capacity.

Below are the lyrics to a song by Jars of Clay, entitled "Faith Enough". It is a song on my playlist at the bottom, and even though it clocks in at over five minutes, you won't regret giving it a listen:

The ice is thin enough for walkin'
The rope is worn enough to climb
My throat is dry enough for talkin'
The world is crumblin' but I know why
The world is crumblin' but I know why

The storm is wild enough for sailing
The bridge is weak enough to cross
This body frail enough for fighting
I'm home enough to know I'm lost
Home enough to know I'm lost

It's just enough to be strong
In the broken places, in the broken places
It's just enough to be strong
Should the world rely on faith tonight

The land unfit enough for planting
Barren enough to conceive
Poor enough to gain the treasure
Enough a cynic to believe
Enough a cynic to believe

Confused enough to know direction
The sun eclipsed enough to shine
Be still enough to finally tremble
And see enough to know I'm blind
And see enough to know I'm blind

Should the world rely on faith tonight