Writings of a Sinner

For all sin and fall short of the glory of God

Month: August, 2012

Watcher

There’s a man in the corner watching

He sees this room for what it is

He sees the dust hidden behind the shiny golden figurines

He notices the painted over cracks in the wall

He sees it all

 

The smiling portraits have pain painted into their beaming faces

The blinds block out more than the sun

From the curb outside the house looks warm and inviting

The few that see through the windows find the home that they envision it to be

But the man in the corner sees it all

 

He sees the heavily knit folded blanket draped over the couch

The scented letters from loved ones in the cigar box in the closet

All previous words spoken and unspoken ring through the house

Nothing is as clean as it seems

But of course

The man sees it all

 

Wings

LORD have mercy on me

I am a terrible and broken sinner daily fallen at your feet

Lift me up LORD on wings of an eagle

Your son has given his body, blood, and life so that I may live forever with you

If it be your will LORD, let me fly high away from this fallen world

Also LORD, soothe and mend the heart of all those who are broken and hardened against you

I pray forever for their souls

You alone know the constant pain in my heart

LORD have mercy on me

Why do we Return?

Why do we return to those who abuse us

We wrap around the finger of the ones who use us

Then there will come a time when we’ve had enough

We’ll step away from their grip that has become too rough

Deep in our heart our a hatred will burn

But no matter how hot, still we return

 

Why do we love those who deny it

The smallest of opportunities will arise and we’ll try it

We’ll lift ourselves up just to be shot down

Broken we fall back to the hard ground

Not caring they stand looking down from above

The person that we cannot help but love

 

Countless hearts have been broken and battered

Lives have been scarred and family scattered

Children grow up knowing nothing but wrong

They pass it to their children and the disease is carried on

Time after time we’ll say, “this time I’ll learn”

But no matter how hard we try, still we return

The Heart of a Sinner

Here I lay on my bed with my hand on my heart and I begin to think about all that a heart is claimed to be. From the anatomical point of view, my heart is an organ comprised of muscle that pushes blood through my arteries and veins in an endless struggle to keep me alive. From the emotional point of view, my heart is a head quarters for all that is either love, or the lack of it. It is a being not connected to my body that can both positively and negatively touch or be touched  by the heart of another. From the spiritual point of view, my heart is exactly that. My heart is the heart of me. It is me. Everything that I am is written in the book that is my heart.

What about from the living point of view? Is there no single definitive answer to what my heart really is? Do I have to pick between those three definitions of a heart? I’ve decided that no I do not. There are many things in this world that will be a mystery to us as children of God. But, I have a theory. Not something that I claim to be fact. Neither is it something that I would completely rule out. My theory is derived from the fact that God is a triune, meaning that he is made up of three persons, all who are one. These persons are The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit. The LORD created us in his image. My theory is that our hearts are also triune. My heart is made physically of flesh and blood just like The Son. My heart is made of love that has been graciously shown to me by The Father. My heart is made of a spirit that is separate from my body and that contains all that I am and it is fed by The Holy Spirit.

Unfortunately, my heart is also corrupted by sin in all ways. I wait eagerly for the day that my heart can be forever clean. So here I lay on my bed with my hand on my heart. A sinner.

Santuary

This is where I come. This is where I am safe from all sad, violent, sinful, deadly thoughts. My sanctuary has a grand piano sitting next to large windows that look out to an evergreen forest. On the walls are wooden shelves filled with The Bible, various books of both fact and fiction, and thousands of musical scores. Music of my choosing vibrates in the air without a stereo system. In my sanctuary is a punching bag for when I find myself wanting to tear the world apart. There is a cup of hot earl grey tea mixed with honey sitting on the window seal of this secluded cabin. The air out side is the freshest air ever and fills my lungs with life, ambition, relaxation, and love. This is where I come when I am angry, happy, sad, tired, disappointed, wanting, uncomfortable, or undecided. This is where I come when I need someone to hold. This is where I come when I have been torn apart and it’s time to build back up. This is where The LORD gives me strength to continue on. The weights that chain me to the ground evaporate as soon as I step in the large doorway. There is no ceiling to my sanctuary, giving my wings free reign of the sky. Nobody can enter except for me and The LORD. This is where I come

Her

Her beauty is a ray of sunlight on a dark world

She reflects a thousand times in my glass heart

My blind eyes awaken again to a joyful sight that is her

I blink only to sleep and dream of her

Her smile is warmth to a cold winter

She thaws my frozen veins

My blood thickens and moves to a pulse that is her

I build my energy for my chance to reach her

Her voice is the call of hope in a silent hall

She awakens my deaf ears

My mind replays the mesmerizing melody that is her

I long to be her harmony

Her want is to not know me

She ignores my searching

My reason tells me to abandon my search for the cure that is her

I can’t resist my disease

My disease is her