When a push becomes a shove...

I find myself being saved at the most inopportune times. Why? Why would the lord be so gracious, so loving, so willing to save me? Who am I that God, the maker of Heaven and Earth, would see it so fit that I still be here. Why do I get this great life? I think of all the places I could be in the world, and I'm here; (mostly) sunny San Diego, California. God why cant I come back to you, be back in Your arms where I know I'm safe. Instead I'm out here, running for the hills, dodging bullets, and sinking into the darkest pits of hell. Ok, perhaps it seems over-dramatic, but it seems so dark when I think about it. I am the darkness, and You are shining all around me, but I wont let You in. Why cant I just submit to You, give it all to you? I know that You wont let anything hurt me, I know that I will be safe in Your arms. But that "leap of faith" is so scary. God I don't want to jump from this wretched tree. It may be rotting underneath me, but I've come too far; I'm climbed too high. There isn't much left for me to do, I can wait it up. I can post up here, clinging with every breath that I have until this tree burns to the ground with a blaze brighter than the sun...or I can turn that strength, turn that fervor towards you. I can run to You with these stains that I know only your blood can wash free. But God I just need that push, I don't want to jump into your arms, God. I want to fall, head-first, into the warmth of Your love and Your grace. Just give me that extra push.

from a great writer

How i wish
I could talk to you
And you would answer
Me in words
It's in me, I know,
To ask for the easy way
And it's in you, I know,
To ask more of me.
You've done so much
and I'm sorry that
Sometimes I forget.
And when you speak to me
In more than words,
I forget to listen.
So touch my heart
And remind me
That words
Are only words.
But you holding my hand
And leading me through life
Is a much more true way
To show
Your love.

-SP

Dream Tunnel

Last night I think I had the best dream I have ever had. Well I know I had the best dream I've had in a long long while. It's crazy how in a dream I could be as happy as I was. I can still remember just that feel of euphoria surging through me, even though it wasn't real. That voice, it was like sweet honey, and the words were as soft as velvet. I know as time goes on, even as the day progressed, it will gradually fade away. However, I'm going to fight with everything I have to keep it. I've waited too long for a dream like this, and I'm not going to let it slip away. I'll just wait, for as long as I have to, for my dreams to come true.

Lord, why would you do this to me?

suspension

I'm caught. I'm hanging by fragile, tattered remnant of what used to be. Looking back at what seemed like such a brilliant, composed structure, I can now see the faults. I can see the cracks. I can see the mis-steps taken in building this bridge. My base made of twigs, and concrete made of brittle, old bones. This bridge will burn, and in its a place a memorial will erect. A tombstone that will encase all the pain, all the emptiness that was. This broken stone will be scarred with these words: I was not, I am not, I am the nothingness that is.

I'm hungry for you

I'm reading a book right now called into the wild. It's about a guy not much older than me who just up and left. He felt like he needed a changed...tired of his life one would say. He was a "leather tramp", living life day by day. He never had plans, he never really needed to be anywhere. He lived off the land, wherever he happened to be. It seemed like he had no cares in the world. He left his comfortable home in Virginia to hitch hike across the country stopping here and there. He would find a suitable town and stay for a month or two, then he would leave just as discreetly as he came in. He found himself in Alaska, with plans to survive in the wild for as long as he could. He thumbed his way up to a beat-down, abandoned road called Stampede Trail. With nothing but a bag of rice, a small sleeping bag, a .22 rifle, and a back pack full of various and seemingly useless items, he walked into the wild.
How freeing. How awesomely and indescribably compelling. What a grand endeavor to take on, living off the land with nothing but a back pack, sleeping bag, and a gun. Starting out the book drew me in and I was clutching to every vibrant, yet somewhat ominous word. However, the author gives the ending away within the first 20 pages. The young man, Christopher McCandless, dies after living a little over 4 months in the wild. How freeing right? What could have brought such a strong-willed and prideful man down? Hunger. Christopher's "remains" were weighed in at 65 pounds. Without food, Christopher's body began to eat itself; fat, muscle, etc. Without food, man becomes weak and will eventually wither up and die.
How about the spirit? What happens when we are not spiritually fed. What happens when we reject our home, and try to live for ourselves. No matter where we go God is there...even in the deepest tundra, there is no escaping His reach. The Father stretches His arm, and opens His mighty hand, it is us who need to reach back. Without His hand, we wither and die. Try as we might, reject Him as we will, He is still there time and time again. We cant simply walk the other way, we cant just ignore the very hand that created us. To that, we deprive ourselves from being spiritually fed, thus starving ourselves into the devil's submission. As much as a blazing inferno hell will be, I imagine it can get mighty cold when we're alone. Who can come to our aid, who can save us from this bitter ice land? The One true God who delivers me from evil, is the same God who will bring me rest. He will hold me in His arms, and He will not let me fall. The Father is a God of love, and compassion...He has taken mercy on us and He will not let us starve.
Let God be your daily bread. With Him, there is no hunger, there is no weakness.
Thank you.

"Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

who gets on here anyway?

so I have a million thoughts racing. I wish I could write a book, a great book. It could be about everything I've experienced in life. The good times, bad times, all that jazz. It'd be a romantic comedy...light on both the romance and comedy (I'd always my life to be like one of those movies). It'd have great vocabulary, and amazing descriptives scenes. Pages of beautiful useless words. I would want to write this beautiful book, and fill it with all my secrets. Every little thing that I have burried deep inside, and guess who else would be in there...you. I'd write all about you, all of you. ha this isn't one of those "I bet you think this song is about you" things, I'm just saying everyone would be in it. The story of our lives. Shelby has a great album name, "you, me, and everyone we know"...I think I'd want to steal it. Sorry, it just sounds so awesome and genuine. So my book ladies and ladies gentlemen would be a best seller. Everyone would read it and would be an amazing hit; that is of course, had I not thrown it to the bottom of the sea. Look all you want, you'll never find it. It's burried in a chest, deep in my chest...it's a great story, but it's never going to be told. Not yet at least. Maybe later. Maybe one day you'll really know me, and all of my secrets. But I better hold off for now, I'd like you to like me for just a little bit longer. Good night boys and girls.

Happy Fathers Day

So it's been a while since I've put anything in here.

Life is unexpectedly really great right now! I'm loving every minute of it.

Thank you to all my friends that make my life so amazing!

Last night was way fun, thanks again Sarah :]