Sharing love on Christmas

Sharing love on Christmas

Today we had an event where we took time out to make things for friends chosen at random using the supplied tools, and this is what I made 🙂 Sometimes we get all caught up in the “Christmas spirit” that we spend thousands of dollars and spread no love. Remember, it was on this day we celebrate the birth of love; the beginning of the plans that God made for our redemption: the birth of Jesus Christ. Isn’t that something to smile about?
More love, less presents!!!!

A thing or two about Dad

So today my mother made a complaint about how the washing machine needed some “filter” or the other cleaned, further accusing my dad to have at once upon a time cleaned said filter. He, of course, recalled nothing of the sort. At the time I heard of this, my father was asleep, and so my brother and I went on ahead and began our conquest to fix the issue, like real men should, without waiting for backup by my father (also like real men should).

We had no idea what we were doing. We began unscrewing stuff, based on the description of the mysterious filter from my mother, and had almost taken the entire backing out before my father arrived. With all hands on deck, we didn’t quite take the back out, but upon inspection, no filter was to be found. And so, we pretty much wasted our time trying so hard to fix something without any directions, instructions or anything of that sort; just wits, tools and muscle. 

Like real men. 

Why was this story significant, you ask? The entire experience reminded me much of when I was younger; standing around staring at my father working in between his barks of “ting dis ting” or “hand me da ting dey” and somehow understanding exactly what he meant. Oh yes! My favourite; “DROP YOUR HAND!” was one that always annoyed the heck out of me. It was different, on this occasion, for it felt no longer as if it was I merely tagging along as a child with his father, but us putting our wits, tools and muscle together as men of equal strength to achieve a common goal. And that was strange for me, for I haven’t much seen myself as working alongside him, but rather being slave driven to work for him. 

My father and I were never the best of friends, and even now, I don’t really talk to him that much, more for the fact that our schedules don’t match than anything else. It always felt as things were his way or no way at all. I felt as if his favourite tool was the hammer, because when things won’t fit in the way he’d want it to he’d whip it out and bang it right into place, instead of trying to align things the way it should be. Don’t get me wrong, he made it work, which was an admirable feat in itself, but the brute force he often placed on the situations around him often left bruises in places that found it hard to simply ignore. 

He didn’t always make the best decisions, and often held on to money so much that work was harder and the reward not satisfying, but he tries his best to make what we have work. Sometimes, he would respond in a manner to suggest that he felt as if he knew everything, which would REALLY get on my nerves, and the one thing that he did the most that made me absolutely furious was believe that I was obsessed with video games. I know, it sounds so trivial, but it felt as if he infringed on my identity. As if he knew who I was, and that he was placing his stamp of disapproval on me. Mind you, back then I loved my video games very much, but I was never obsessed with them. The amount of restraint that was placed on me because of this belief most likely further concreted this statement in his mind since I would sneak around to play often, but it was more my lack of anything to do (other than study) and immense boredom that pushed me over the edge. 

And playing games with that adrenaline rush? Priceless 😉

All in all, he is a great and honourable man, and despite never having seen eye to eye with him in my younger days, I love and appreciate all that he has done for me and continues to do even to this day. I am who I am because of his inputs into my life (whether I liked them or not) and God found it necessary to place him in my life. And so even now, forgetting and forgiving the past, we press on to future labours, hearts mended and ready for anything. 

Like real men 🙂

 

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It just doesn’t make sense anymore

I wanna be where nothing makes sense
Cause If i’m making sense
Men are making dollars
I’d be feeding their wallets and popping their collars
but I don’t wanna be in a place of financial blessing
where my pocket’s fat and my soul’s wanting
because my soul wants transformation
mental translation
to a plane where there’s nothing but a demonstration
of Your power
A dispensation of Your glory
not just some story
for fairy tails to dust away the phonies
But to be mind shocked
heart popped
eyes not decieved and mind stopped
I want to be out of the rational
because that can be explained
so full of Your glory
that I must be insane
ascended to that plane
soaring with eagles wings
landing on a boat that sings
Out of the orignal
and into the origin
where Christ is king
and demons cringe
spirit’s singed where fire springs
wheeling like chariots and all sorts of things
where the physical is dismal
distant and foolish
where physics dies and chemistry makes a wish
that somehow, they could be right.
But i refuse to let sight
hold me,
my senses bond me or control me
The only logical solution isn’t effervescence
the only thing that should exude from me
Is your Holy presence.

Real Talk: How far are you willing to go?

All these years, I’ve walked and walked. I journeyed through some storms, some trials… even some dark places that i’d wish never to return to. As a matter of fact, A LOT of dark places that I’d wish never to return to. But what of them now? They are all but figments of my imagination; gruesome images that scathe my happiness from time to time. No matter how hard and unbearable they where, they always came to an eventual end. These trauma oozing circumstances that hardened my heart, accompanied by subtle sweetness that somehow carried me through, all shaped me to be who I am at this moment.

But what of it? What of me?

It would seem that even as life goes on, that challenges somehow evolve; some may say that they were always there, but as I grew older and wiser, it was only then that I became aware of them. Others, well they say that my problems are a concoction of my own mental genius, tailor made in grand fashion to be a challenge to my own “entertainment”. These say that my problems are based mainly on my perspective of the situation, and very little on the actual circumstance to which I am bound.

So does that make me a slave to circumstance, a slave-master who likes to push himself, or both? It reminds me of a dog chasing it’s own tail, or even after the cars that are virtually impossible to reach. What are we striving for? Does our intent lead to more? Or do we stop there? At what point do we say that we are content?

I believe that the answer to that question is perhaps simpler than you’d think. I say that the point at which we should say that we are content…. is NOW. Dreams are only dreams until you wake up to achieve them (cliche I know) and wallowing about because of want is only a hindrance to acquiring those wants. Ambition is a tool that can break down the walls that block us, but also the weapon that plunge our hearts straight through; all that’s left of us is the empty shell of a man whose life has been spilled out upon the ground.

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Free to worship

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You can sing all you want to

sing all you want too…

and that sounds nice

but you may never know the price

of my worship.

When I fall down face to the ground

pounding the floor cause I know…

don’t judge me.

Don’t be another Pharisee

for Jesus to write in the sand for you to see

Don’t ACT like you never committed adultery.

You might not have lied with woman or a man

but you lied.

You stole, you killed with your crimes.

so don’t point those four filthy fingers at yourself.

I didn’t ask for your help

to know that I’m not perfect.

You clearly don’t know the price of my worship.

But let me cast you a shilling if your willing.

He who has an ear to hear

I’ll speak up so I’m loud and clear.

I was lost, like the value of a penny

when Christ came and found me

slaughter bound running round in circles

sickle primed to my chaff

I can’t give a dime for every time

I went and spat in His guitar case.

He was on my corner playing His soulful hits

not asking for a tip

but just that I would listen.

that was until I dropped a bub

receiving with gladness His love

with a stony soiled heart

popping my collar cause

pride won’t let me give Him the whole dollar.

You still wanna act like you know me?

you wanna know the cost of worship from one who’s unworthy?

I tried my best, you know,

But ten percent, that was a no no.

I couldn’t find a reasonable service

because my living sacrifice felt too worthless

That’s when He imposed a fine

that totally blew my mind.

He told me the cost of a slave.

Because i don’t behave

I earned my wage; death

but he spared no time nor breath

so say why I’m saved.

He looked at my debt, and said it’s already been paid.

I was at my world’s end

smaller than a hobbit at bag’s end

bare feet, walking in the naked truth

ten cents, five cents all i’ve spent

fitlthy rags were all they meant

cause I could never buy my freedom.

So I asked Him what gift could ever be worth this

because all i’ve given is worthless

He smiled, said I could never pay him back,

but it’s always free to worship…

So when you see me

screaming lungs screeching hands swinging in the air

DONT YOU DARE

judge me.

Don’t ascribe any price to my worship with your filthy scales

because My God said it’s free.

whoever the son has set free, is free indeed.

whatever anyone else says,

that’s heresy.

 

Re: Beauty

Hey,

How are you? Firstly let me apologize at once for the cheekiness; I am writing you like this in memory of the good old days. You know, it’s not everyday that I’m blessed to look into your mirror, and I say blessed, because, despite what you may think, perception is not always reality, especially when those thoughts are mental jabs at the heart caged within the confines of your being. I was thinking of how to put together this “presentation” if I can even call it that, and so I thought that instead of wrapping up this with pretty phrases and metaphors that make everything seem so nice and dandy, I’d just give it to you as it is. We both know how precious time is, and so sometimes, it’s best just to say everything as it is. 

So here goes.

YOU, my friend, are beautiful. I’m not talking see a girl walking down the street and a couple heads turn beautiful; I’m talking see her walking by and get intimidated by her mere presence, recognizing another fragment of how awesome God is, spouting forth images of meadows and gardens and butterflies and all that good stuff realizing that nothing compares to you beautiful. The kind of beautiful that’s soul deep. Not make-up deep, silicon deep, designer fabric deep…. soul deepYour beauty isn’t malnourished, disproportionate or crushed, deformed and uncomfortable just to fit some mould, cause it isn’t a stereotyped beauty. It’s a beauty that, is simply, yet wonderfully, yours. No one else can say that they are as beautiful as you. No one can HOPE to be as beautiful as you. 

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I mean, you’ve been in God’s eyes since day negative infinity, so that alone should say a lot, but I thank God that I can speak for myself, for I know if one person has ever beheld you, it’s me. I’ve seen you, and what I saw was beauty. Everywhere. I have glasses, and so I could see pretty well, and they haven’t let me down yet. You have that beauty that leaves impressions upon people; it moves them… stirs them to the point where they can’t sit still any more. They simply have to  say something about you. They try to find fault because they can’t understand what they see; but who are THEY to judge God’s handiwork? Only an artist can understand art.

That being said, I’m probably not one to judge either, so don’t take my word for it. The One true artist, like the boss He is, spoke and made perfection. Every time He finished, He looked at what He did, and said that “it was good”. So hey, from His standpoint, you look pretty darn good to me! Words have power, and many brandish it like foolhardy firebrands, not realizing the damage fire has to a dry forest. But, within the proper hands, they can be the elixirs that stir up the beautiful things in life 😉 

To all those who feel broken, worthless and doubt themselves… please stop. The only person who has to live with you at the end of the day is yourself; and while you may feel that you don’t measure up, the truth is that you don’t have to. God made you exactly who you are, sees you and says that you are good. And He knows what He’s talking about! You are wonderful, and especially beautiful being you and nobody else. It will hurt me to see you any other way. So, I hope you, having read this letter, feel that little oomph of awesome extra that will help you kick some stereotypes to the curb (but not the people, as much as you may want to). I can’t wait to see you all again, and behold that beauty that resides in you once more. Chao!

Love always, 

~Zecks

 

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 This was a very fun presentation… It’s amazing that I wasn’t allowed to perform it for the intent upon which it was written, but I guess that just ties more and more into the theme of the piece…. Enjoy!

Here I am trodding

walking a mile in Jonah’s shoes

living my own ruse with a form of Godliness

yet confused.

Somehow I choose my way

like the Pharaoh of Moses day

Striving to take baby steps

when all I need is to obey

I won’t be swayed, much to His dismay

thinking that having a form of Godliness is okay

it’s been good so far I see

living a modern day Pharisee

religiously

lacking power and surviving on mercies

extended because of grace;

Taking two steps round back to the same place

But its good cause i’m living safe.

I see Him in a mirror dimly,

clearly

because when that which is true is to come…

this safe, misplaced faith will be undone

spewed out of the whale’s mouth like a lukewarm son

broken on the floor like crumbs

mucus stained with guilty pains

but thank God that His light is shone.

I see his face

and in me is shaped

sinews of promise bound by grace

coursing atoms of purpose in my veins

exiled off my Island with tattered chains

fetters removed recognizing Him as king.

launched into my comfort zone forever

perpetually uncomfortable with the Holy Spirit as my comforter

No longer broken apart but pieced together…

So dear Lord, I surrender.

White flag’s up as I’m down on my knees

cause I need not mine but your safety.

Where you will, there let me be;

I won’t relent until You have all of me.