1 Corinthians 13:13

It’s been an ‘eventful’ few months, when you befriend every type of pain and anguish, it seems like the most radical thing you can do is be hopeful.

But what does hope really mean? We say it almost interchangeably with ‘wish’ or ‘good luck’. Understood correctly, it is not to be confused with a whimsical naivety…hope is anything but fluffy, it’s as solid as an anchor.

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.”  

Hebrews 6:19 

It is not to be mistaken for escapism and retreat because that would be a direct contradiction to the command, “Take up your cross and follow me.” And it’s never been about indifference.

I’ve been thinking about what hope IS, and have come to the conclusion that it may be simply realising that often times, the new wine is yet to come. Hope is the power of a conviction that the life built on faith will produce its fruits. Hope is the confidence that, despite all darkness and sin, the light of the loving forgiveness of God is upon us to do, with us and for us what we can’t. It’s about redeeming what was lost.

Hope, is to proclaim that we believe in the Resurrection. It is to look at the nails and the cross and see victory and salvation for all mankind.

Hope is the part of the three fold cord (faith, hope, love), that cannot be broken. Because, one of the most important things I have learnt is that, hope is not just nice, it is necessary. When it really feel like you are drowning, hope is the air that keeps us breathing.

“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be.'”

Romans 4:18

Abraham had a hope beyond hope. Where all human logic and wishful thinking had expired, he remained steadfast.

Without hope we become cynics or we fall into despair…

Cynicism often means assuming the worst about people, their motives and the outcomes of decisions. It’s picking the dark shades out of the palette, to paint the world a shade of negativity. Without hope we are sick and we become unresponsive to the grace of God and the support of our brothers.

The dangerous thing is, it is so easy to justify, because, in truth, humanity is broken, bad things happen, sometimes people have sinful motives, maybe we know ourselves well enough to project that onto others. We can’t assume people will always do good but maybe we just need to give people the opportunity to be. With hearts and minds wide open we will see God’s hand. We see that people are good, though this goodness is nuanced and idiosyncratic, and God is great.

We see a story of redemption throughout the bible. In the book of Isaiah, we meet a Pagan king named Cyrus. Despite the fact he didn’t know God, God still used him to encourage the Jewish people to return to their homeland and rebuild their temple.

It was written about him…

“Open before him the double doors,
So that the gates will not be shut:
‘I will go before you
And make the crooked places straight;
I will break in pieces the gates of bronze
And cut the bars of iron.
I will give you the treasures of darkness
And hidden riches of secret places,

I make peace and create calamity;
I, the Lord, do all these things.” 

Isaiah 45:1-3,7

Finally, Let us remind each other to flee from the dark gripping forces of despondency and despair. With a renewed hope, let us walk in the palm of His sovereign hand.

‘” . the force of despondence . . . overwhelms him and oppresses his soul; and this is a taste of hell because it produces a thousand temptations: confusion, irritation, protesting and bewailing one’s lot, wrong thoughts, wandering from place to place, and so on”

(Saint Isaac of Syria, 6th c., Directions on Spiritual Training).

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Romans 15:13

“For in this hope we are saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

Romans 8:24-25

Hear and be comforted, beloved, how merciful is God. To the sinful woman He forgave her offenses; yea, He upheld her when she was afflicted. With clay He opened the eyes of the blind, so that the eyeballs beheld the light. To the palsied He granted healing, who arose and walked and carried his bed. And to us He has given the pearls; His holy Body and Blood. He brought His medicines secretly; and with them He heals openly. And He wandered round in the land of Judea, like a physician, bearing his medicines. Simon invited Him to the feast, to eat bread in his house. The sinful woman rejoiced when she heard that He sat and was feasting in Simon’s house; her thoughts gathered together like the sea, and like the billows her love surged. She beheld the Sea of Grace, how it had forced itself into one place; and she resolved to go and drown all her wickedness in its billows.

She bound her heart, because it had offended, with chains and tears of suffering; and she began weeping (with herself): What avails me this fornication? What avails this lewdness? I have defiled the innocent ones without shame; I have corrupted the orphan; and without fear I have robbed the merchants of merchandise, and my rapacity was not satisfied. I have been as a bow in war, and have slain the good and the bad. I have been as a storm on the sea, and have sunk the ships of many. Why did I not win me one man, who might have corrected my lewdness? For one man is of God, but many are of Satan.

These things she inwardly said; then began she to do outwardly. She washed and put away from her eyes the dye that blinded them that saw it. And tears gushed forth from her eyes over that deadly eyepaint. She drew off and cast from her hands the enticing bracelets of her youth. She put off and cast away from her body the tunic of fine linen of whoredom, and resolved to go and attire herself in the tunic the garment of reconciliation. She drew off and cast from her feet the adorned sandals of lewdness; and directed the steps of her going in the path of the heavenly Eagle. She took up her gold in her palm and held it up to the face of heaven, and began to cry secretly, to Him who hears openly: This, O Lord, that I have gained from iniquity, with it will I purchase to myself redemption. This which was gathered from orphans, with it will I win the Lord of orphans.

These things she said secretly; then began to do openly. She took up the gold in her palm, and carried the alabaster box in her hands. Then hastily went she forth in sadness to the perfumer. The perfumer saw her and wondered, and fell into questioning with her; and thus he began to say to the harlot in the first words he spoke: Was it not enough for you, harlot, that you have corrupted all our town? What means this fashion that you show today to your lovers— that you have put off your wantonness and hast clothed yourself in modesty? Heretofore, when you came to me, your aspect was different from today’s. You were clothed in goodly raiment, and brought little gold; and asked for precious ointment, to make your lewdness pleasant. But lo! Today your vesture is mean, and you have brought much gold. Your change I understand not; wherefore is this fashion of yours? Either clothe you in raiment according to your ability, or buy ointment according to your clothing. For this ointment becomes not or is suited to this attire. Can it be that a merchant has met you, and brings great wealth; and you have seen that he loves it not, the fashion of your lewdness? So you have put off your lewdness and hast clothed yourself in meekness, that by various fashions you may capture much wealth. But if he loves this fashion because he is a chaste man in truth, then woe to him! Into what has he fallen? Into a gulf that has swallowed up his merchandise. But I give you advice, as a man that desires your welfare, that you send away your many lovers who have helped you nought from your youth, and henceforth seek out one husband who may correct your lewdness.

These things spoke the perfumer, in wisdom, to the harlot. The sinful woman answered and said to him, to the perfumer after his discourse, Hinder me not, O man, and stop me not by your questioning. I have asked of you ointment, not freely, but I will pay you its value not grudgingly. Take you the gold, as much as you demand, and give me the precious ointment; take you that which endures not and give me that which endures; and I will go to Him who endures, and will buy that which endures. And as to that you said, about a merchant; a Man has met me today Who bears riches in abundance. He has robbed me and I have robbed Him; He has robbed me of my transgressions and sins, and I have robbed Him of His wealth. And as to that you said of a husband; I have won me a Husband in heaven, Whose dominion stands for ever, and His kingdom shall not be dissolved. She took up the ointment and went forth.

In haste went she forth; as Satan saw her and was enraged; and was greatly grieved in his mind. At one time he rejoiced, and again at another he was grieved. That she carried the perfumed oil, he rejoiced in his inward mind; but that she was clad in mean raiment— at this doing of hers he was afraid. He clave then to her and followed her, as a robber follows a merchant. He listened to the murmurs of her lips, to hear the voice of her words. He closely watched her eyeballs (to mark) whither the glance of her eyes was directed; and as he went he moved by her feet (to mark) whither her goings were directed. Very full of craft is Satan, from our words to learn our aim. Therefore our Lord has taught us not to raise our voice when we pray, that the Devil may not hear our words and draw near and become our adversary. So then, when Satan saw that he could not change her mind, he clothed himself in the fashion of a man, and drew to himself a crowd of youths, like her lovers of former times; and then began he thus to address her: By your life, O woman, tell me whither are your footsteps directed? What means this haste? For you hastes more than other days. What means this your meekness, for your soul is meek like a handmaid’s? Instead of garments of fine linen, lo! You are clothed in sordid weeds; instead of bracelets of gold and silver, there are not even rings on your fingers; instead of goodly sandals for your feet, not even worn shoes are on your feet. Disclose to me all your doing, for I understand not your change. Is it that some one of your lovers has died, and you go to bury him? We will go with you to the funeral, and with you will (take part with you) in sorrow.

The sinful woman answered and said to him, (even) to Satan, after his speech: Well have you said that I go to inter the dead, one that has died to me. The sin of my thoughts has died, and I go to bury it. Satan answered and said to her, (even) to the sinful woman after her words: Go to, O woman, I tell you that I am the first of your lovers. I am not such as you, and I place my hands upon you. I will give you again more gold than before.

The sinful woman answered and said to him, even to Satan after his discourse: I am wearied of you, O man, and you are no more my lover. I have won me a husband in heaven, Who is God, that is over all, and His dominion stands for ever, and His kingdom shall not be dissolved. For lo! In your presence I say; I say it again and I lie not. I was a handmaid to Satan from my childhood unto this day. I was a bridge, and he trode upon me, and I destroyed thousands of men. The eyepaint blinded my eyes, and (I was) blind among many whom I blinded. I became sightless and knew not that there is One Who gives light to the sightless. Lo! I go to get light for my eyes, and by that light to give light to many. I was fast bound, and knew not that there is One Who overthrows idols. Lo! I go to have my idols destroyed, and so to destroy the follies of many. I was wounded and knew not that there is One Who binds up wounds; and lo! I go to have my wounds bound. These things the harlot spoke to Satan in her wisdom; and he groaned and was grieved and wept; and he cried aloud and thus he spoke:— I am conquered by you, O woman, and what I shall do I know not.

As soon as Satan perceived that he could not change her mind, he began to weep for himself and thus it was that he spoke: Henceforth is my boasting perished, and the pride of all my days. How shall I lay for her a snare, for her who is ascending on high? How shall I shoot arrows at her, (even) at her whose wall is unshaken? Therefore I go into Jesus’ presence; lo! she is about to enter His presence; and I shall say to Him thus: This woman is an harlot. Perchance He may reject and not receive her. And I shall say to Him thus: This woman who comes into Your presence is a woman that is an harlot. She has led captive men by her whoredom; she is polluted from her youth. But You, O Lord, are righteous; all men throng to see You. And if mankind see You that You have speech with the harlot, they all will flee from Your presence, and no man will salute You.

These things Satan spoke within himself, nor was he moved. Then he changed the course of his thought, and thus it was that he spoke. How shall I enter into Jesus’ presence, for to Him the secret things are manifest? He knows me, who I am, that no good office is my purpose. If haply He rebuke me I am undone, and all my wiles will be wasted. I will go to the house of Simon, for secret things are not manifest to him. And into his heart I will put it; perchance on that hook he may be caught. And thus will I say unto him: By your life, O Simon, tell me; this man that sojourns in your house is he a man that is righteous, or a friend of the doers of wickedness? I am a wealthy man, and a man that has possessions, and I wish like you to invite him that he may come in and bless my possessions.

Simon answered and thus he said to the Evil One after his words: From the day that (first) I saw Him I have seen no lewdness in Him, but rather quietness and peace, humility and seemliness. The sick He heals without reward, the diseased He freely cures. He approaches and stands by the grave, and calls, and the dead arise. Jairus called Him to raise his daughter to life, trusting that He could raise her to life. And as He went with him in the way, He gave healing to the woman diseased, who laid hold of the hem of His garment and stole healing from Him, and her pain which was hard and bitter at once departed from her. He went forth to the desert and saw the hungry, how they were fainting with famine. He made them sit down on the grass, and fed them in His mercy. In the ship He slept as He willed, and the sea swelled against the disciples. He arose and rebuked the billows, and there was a great calm. The widow, the desolate one who was following her only son, on the way to the grave He consoled her. He gave him to her and gladdened her heart. To one man who was dumb and blind, by His voice He brought healing. The lepers He cleansed by His word; to the limbs of the palsied He restored strength. For the blind man, afflicted and weary, He opened his eyes and he saw the light. And for two others who besought Him, at once He opened their eyes. As for me, thus have I heard the fame of the man from afar; and I called Him to bless my possessions, and to bless all my flocks and herds.

Satan answered and said to him, to Simon after his words: Praise not a man at his beginning, until you learn his end; hitherto this man is sober and his soul takes not pleasure in wine. If he shall go forth from your house, and holds not converse with an harlot, then he is a righteous man and no friend of them that do wickedness. Such things did Satan speak in his craftiness to Simon. Then he approached and stood afar off, to see what should come to pass.

The sinful woman full of transgressions stood clinging by the door. She clasped her arms in prayer, and thus she spoke beseeching:— Blessed Son Who hast descended to earth for the sake of man’s redemption, close not Your door in my face; for You have called me and lo! I come. I know that You have not rejected me; open for me the door of Your mercy, that I may come in, O my Lord, and find refuge in You, from the Evil One and his hosts! I was a sparrow, and the hawk pursued me, and I have fled and taken refuge in Your nest. I was a heifer, and the yoke galled me, and I will turn back my wanderings to You. Lay upon me the shoulder of Your yoke that I may take it on me, and work with Your oxen. Thus did the harlot speak at the door with much weeping. The master of the house looked and saw her, and the colour of his visage was changed; and he began thus to address her, (even) the harlot, in the opening of his words:— Depart hence, O harlot, for this man who abides in our house is a man that is righteous, and they that are of his companions are blameless. Is it not enough for you, harlot, that you have corrupted the whole town? You have corrupted the chaste without shame; you have robbed the orphans, and have not blushed, and have plundered the merchants’ wares, and your countenance is not abashed. From him your heart [and soul] labour [to take]. But from him your net takes no spoil. For this man is righteous indeed, and they of his company are blameless.

The sinful woman answered and said to him, even to Simon when he had ceased: You surely are the guardian of the door, O you that know things that are secret! I will propose the matter in the feast, and you shall be free from blame. And if there be any that wills me to come in, he will bid me and I will come in. Simon ran and closed the door, and approached and stood afar off. And he tarried a long time and proposed not the matter in the feast. But He, Who knows what is secret, beckoned to Simon and said to him:— Come hither, Simon, I bid you; does any one stand at the door? Whosoever he be, open to him that he may come in; let him receive what he needs, and go. If he be hungry and hunger for bread, lo! In your house is the table of life; and if he be thirsty, and thirst for water, lo! The blessed fountain is in your dwelling. And if he be sick and ask for healing, lo! The great Physician is in your house. Allow sinners to look upon Me, for their sakes have I abased Myself. I will not ascend to heaven, to the dwelling whence I came down, until I bear back the sheep that has wandered from its Father’s house, and lift it up on My shoulders and bear it aloft to heaven. Simon answered and thus he said to Jesus, when He had done speaking:— My Lord, this woman that stands in the doorway is a harlot: she is lewd and not free-born, polluted from her childhood. And You, my Lord, are a righteous man, and all are eager to see You; and if men see You having speech with the harlot, all men will flee from beside You, and no man will salute You. Jesus answered, and thus He said to Simon when he was done speaking:— Whosoever it be, open for him to come in, and you shall be free from blame; and though his offenses be many, without rebuke I bid you [receive him].

Simon approached and opened the door, and began thus to speak:— Come, enter, fulfil that you will, to him who is even as you. The sinful woman, full of transgressions, passed forward and stood by His feet, and clasped her arms in prayer, and with these words she spoke:— My eyes have become watercourses that cease not from [watering] the fields, and today they wash the feet of Him Who follows after sinners. This hair, abundant in locks from my childhood till this day, let it not grieve You that it should wipe this holy body. The mouth that has kissed the lewd, forbid it not to kiss the body that remits transgressions and sins. These things the harlot spoke to Jesus, with much weeping. And Simon stood afar off to see what He would do to her. But He Who knows the things that are secret, beckoned to Simon and said to him:— Lo! I will tell you, O Simon, what your meditation is, concerning the harlot. Within your mind you imagine and within your soul you said, ‘I have called this man righteous, but lo! The harlot kisses Him. I have called Him to bless my possessions, and lo! The harlot embraces Him.’ O Simon, there were two debtors, whose creditor was one only; one owed him five-hundred [pence], and the other owed fifty. And when the creditor saw that neither of these two had anything, the creditor pardoned and forgave them both their debt. Which of them ought to render the greater thanks? He who was forgiven five hundred, or he who was forgiven fifty? Simon answered, and thus he said to Jesus, when He had done speaking:— He who was forgiven five hundred ought to render the greater thanks. Jesus answered and thus He said: You are he that owes five hundred, and this woman owes fifty. Lo! I came into your house, O Simon; and water for My feet you brought not; and this woman, of whom you said that she was an harlot, one from her childhood defiled, has washed My feet with her tears, and with her hair she has wiped them. Ought I to send her away, O Simon, without receiving forgiveness? Verily, verily, I say unto you, I will write of her in the Gospel. Go, O woman, your sins are forgiven you and all your transgression is covered; henceforth and to the end of the world.

May our Lord account us worthy of hearing this word of His:— Come, enter, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom made ready for all who shall do My will, and observe all My commandments. To Him be glory; on us be mercy; at all times. Amen! Amen!

Source of original posting

And there’s a seam in my heart, one I trace back to spending hours pouring my soul over, needle to thread, weaving through all the truths I believed I must live, and all the expectations that would keep my life neat, keep it tidy. Because who longs to live a messy life displaying only rugged edges and pulled out threads all over? Yet with every stitch, it feels like I closed the hollow in my ears, unable to hear, sealed the passion burrowing in me, unable to live. For to be fully alive, is to be wholly attentive to the Voice that calls you into being, and to allow the flame inside you to burn as fierce and as loud as the Voice.

There is a song bottled in the heart, a beautiful symphony that awakens the soul to live out audaciously. We stifle the lyrics through finance-focused careers, pleasing those around us and masking who we are that we may be accepted. Yet every Word calls for embracing the unknown, to live day by day, uncalculated, unplanned, radically obedient. And in that radical obedience, a radical defiance to all the suppose-to-do and the should-do’s, shaking off every expectation we claimed as our own.

In our desperation to stitch our frayed seams to picture perfection we neglect the tell tale signs of the thread as it pierces our fabric. So when there comes a day when the thread snaps and the material wears thin from carrying a weight it was never meant to bear, what will the mark the needle left tell? There is the thread I stitch with, the thread of performance, perfectionism, scarcity and of comparison. The thread of lies, insecurities and of living for the applause that never seems to arrive. The thread that tightens and holds the fabric is the very thread that tangles us into an insolvable knot.

There is an otherworldly thread. This thread like the ECG on a monitor is the thread that does not tie but flows, as a steady thrum of a heartbeat bursting from our chest, chasing the truth planted in our hearts and  bursting the seams of what is ordinary or expected. This thread is the thread of no seams, no limits, no bounds, no man made edges. This thread does not try to tuck in the chaos inside our world of sadness neatly away. Chaos is with the fabric, every fabric you’ll find it embedded in the fibres; otherworldly fibres that connect our spirit to the Spirit of God. For it is His Kingdom that lies within. It is His Kingdom that fills.

Sometimes my heart aches; am I really free? Do I live free or do I live confined to social and cultural expectations? Perhaps even my very own expectations. Often the well beaten path seems like the only option, when your feet are unsteady and choices seem heavy. But maybe all it takes is to open up your eyes and look beyond these sheltered gardens to see  there is a whole forest out there beckoning you to explore its acres.

I’m beginning to understand that God has given us our passions for a reason. They are chosen and they are precious. We are not meant to be smoldered. Smoldered, by the piles of to do lists and meaningless business, obligations and “should dos”. Because what if there really is no “should” in life? Could the words of Esther, “Perhaps this is the moment for which I have been created” (Esther 4:14) hold true in each and every moment?

I believe we are made for adventure; we are made for more.

May we live zealously with purpose, realizing that every choice is a stroke of paint in the picture He is painting of our lives.

May we stop living as prisoners of all the should-do’s.

May we choose to stop calculating our every step.

May we allow the melody to rise, that we may unashamedly burst at the seams.

Co-written with Monica

(Photo courtesy of Mykola Lunov)

Hercules was the son of the gods, but he was made mortal by two conniving workers of the devil. Though he became mortal, he still retained his god-like strength. At first, he didn’t really know what to do with it because his incredible strength was so awkwardly enclosed in his humanity. However, with time he learned to master it and day by day he grew in stature and wisdom. He eventually found his way back to his father and asked to return to his heavenly home; however, his father had other plans. He told him that the key to the gates of heaven could be found within himself. This truth is said in another way by St Isaac the Syrian:

“Endeavor to enter your own inner cell, and you will see the heavens, because the one and the other are one and the same, and when you enter one you see the two. The ladder leading to the Kingdom is concealed within you, that is, in your soul. Wash yourself from sin and you will see the rungs of the ladder by which you can ascend there.”

As with any Disney film, it wasn’t long before Hercules started to fall in love. This wasn’t just any fairytale love – this love was fierce. It was a love that led him to jump into the perilous waters of the underworld to rescue the object of his affection out of the cold hard clutches of death itself. In doing so, he was sacrificing himself, literally dying to himself. This scene brought the following verses to mind:

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” Galatians 2:20

“You shall love your neighbour as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:31

“whoever loves others has fulfilled the law” Romans 13:8

As he waded through the perilous waters, his life hung in the balance between life and death. Then suddenly, he was transformed. He had let go of his selfishness by putting another life above his own. His love changed him from being a mere mortal to being a heavenly creature. In dying to himself he was able to enter through the gates of heaven where he belonged. When Christ came on earth through the incarnation, He had to stoop low in order to come and save us. He had to come down as a child, vulnerable, fragile even. So, we too must break ourselves, die to ourselves, become small so that others can rise… so that others can live.

Unless you die you cannot truly live… you cannot be fully alive!

It’s only when we fall in Love with God and we learn to put another soul above ours, like Hercules did that we can sacrifice, and ultimately die to ourselves.

‘The ultimate response to ourselves, to others and to God is love. Every other response is but a derivative dimension and secondary version of the primary reality of love’ -Life of St Anthony

Hercules loved Meg’s soul like his own (as it says Jonathan did of David in Samuel 18:1). But, what does it mean to love someone like you love your own soul? Maybe, it means that like Moses, I will learn to say “But now, please forgive their sin–but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written” Exodus 32:32. I am in awe that anyone could ever say that, but maybe this is what is means to really die to ourselves, that we desire the best for others, and that we can pray that “others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should.”

“He who has the Holy Spirit in him, to however slight a degree, sorrows day and night for all mankind. His heart is filled with pity for all God’s creatures, more especially for those who do not know God, or who resist Him and therefore are bound for torment. For them, more than for himself, he prays day and night, that all may repent and know the Lord” -St Silouan the Athonite

“Let us become the image of the one whole God, bearing nothing earthly in ourselves, so that we may consort with God and become gods, receiving from God our existence as gods. For it is clear that He Who became man without sin will divinize human nature without changing it into the Divine Nature, and will raise it up for His Own sake to the same degree as He lowered Himself for man’s sake” -St Maximus the Confessor

To those who have ever loved,

To those who have ever lost,

To those who have never forgotten.

This is for the broken ones who have learnt the lessons of love and faith the hard way; even in imperfection there are notes of freedom, flashes of beauty and redemption.

This is an open letter to those who have emerged from relationships with a masterpiece of scars splattered on a canvas of remorse. This is an open letter to those who never felt wanted and pursued. This is an open letter to those who have watched from afar as one after the other of their friends evaded the pain of unrequited love while they have felt stung and stuck in the same place. This is an open letter to those who have been lied to or cheated on. This is an open letter to anyone who has made a mistake in the arena of love and to the generous lovers, the brave ones who refuse to be defeated and will rise again to enter the arena one more time. There is a reason your heart is the size of a fist, keep fighting, keep feeling, keep loving.

To the lonely,

When did you feel lonely?

I know you crave companionship and intimacy. The art of human connection is to be unashamed and unafraid in intimacy. The freedom of Adam and Eve – the intimacy in union. It is not wrong to desire that. You are not somehow faulty or defective. Believe that God’s will is such that no sin, ignorance, or miscalculation on your part can thwart. His love is so strong and so inseparable from us that not even our own blindness or foolishness can hinder His perfect love. Lonely hearts know they have need, and heaven knows that all we need in this life is need. A need that says I need the shadows of Your wings and the arms of Your embrace. Maybe you have realised now that He is the one that always stays when all else fades away. He is the one who always picks up the pieces. Lonely hearts know that to be known and found is freedom when it is found in the all-knowing Creator. Let the sense and the thoughts of the light shine upon us and let us not be covered by the darkness of pain that we may deeply praise Him. He is our Hiding Place, from our hidden places of ghosts and secrets that make us sick. In the light of the morn there is no shadow left to hide other than His and when the rays beat down we can emerge from the shadow days. His mercy crashes in and endures forever.

It’s easy to feel like a fraud when you understood the temptation to fill emotional needs through external attachments. The struggle is going through the very lesson you thought you knew so well, that you could avoid. Remember that struggle you go through is to pump healthy blood into the body of Christ. One blood courses through the veins of the one body and nourishes them all. If anything can comfort you is that your struggle is for the sake of many. For the church. St Paul’s heart of service was to suffer for the sake of the body. And even though we think we are strong, we are weak for the glory of God. God offers himself that way, life in place of death, holy desire replacing deceitful desire, life planted and growing and filling all the hollow of a soul. We are the weak ones, but this is not bad news. Isn’t brokenness the fertile ground for seeds of hope, the low place where Jesus meets us? We are the weak and we were made for hope and until we find our True Hope, there is no true strength; He renews the strength of those who hope in Him. God’s love is our hope. Keep your eyes on Him and if you can’t see His love fix your wandering eyes and bind it to Him once again.

May our afflictions, our seasons spent waiting patiently to be fixed and free be used to fix and free the body knowing that we have received comfort from the God of all comforts. May you be the unashamed comforter, held and put back together in His perfect love. There is nothing given away that Christ cannot retrieve from the abyss, for though we make our bed in hell, He is there too. He is always there, His eyes fixed on ours, placing our trembling hands on his own pulsing wounds so that we might believe Emmanuel – God with us. He never left.

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.” Henri Nouwen

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort (2 Corinthians 1:3 NKJ)

Jesus is not stingy with His comfort, light or strength, especially when we ask. In stillness and quietness we forge an opening to the healing fire within.

As Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain said, “Unless we maintain contact with our inner depths, unless there is a still center in the midst of the storm, unless in the midst of all our activism we preserve a secret room in our heart where we can stand alone with God, we will lose all sense of direction and will be torn in pieces.”

“Loneliness: there is no organ that can take it all” Nicole Krauss

You are loved

I liked it so much, I kissed many. I never believed in considering future consequences, only the here and now, only in the moment where my body lusted and craved another.

I believed in hedonism.

I was a lover of a sugar-coated world, biting deep enough to reach the salt beneath; left parched and bereft. But when invited to dine with the Divine, I counted up the cost and I conceded that He was worth it all. Because when you see the light, darkness doesn’t stand a chance. When you see the light, you cannot deny its existence.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has shined.”
Isaiah 9:2

We tend towards hiding our not-so-pure stories, locking them deep into caskets that no one may see or hear. We profess forgiveness like we do breathing, yet shame whispers “tell no one” and we trust its every word. In a community amongst those who testify to the living Word, Who is pure and holy, Who calls us to be as He is, we feel there is no room for our stories of grace. We see the awe in people’s eyes as they intently listen to testimony after testimony, whilst observing how the same story-tellers are not trusted, always on trial. So we sit in silence, hear stories like ours being called a disgrace, bite our tongues as people express the need to marry only a “pure” spouse.

Yet, forgiveness does not beckon silence. And grace does not hide away our past sins. Rather it holds each thorn up to the light and transforms them into pure white lilies, with each petal holding a unique story, not to be forgotten, lest the power of grace be forgotten.

There’s a woman whose story I know well. Or perhaps, it is she that knows mine. A nameless woman, yet not a faceless one, for I have seen her face countless times when I’ve looked in the mirror. The courageous woman on the sixth hour of Wednesday eve.

She can see the Man she came for. She had heard that Christ had come to the house of the Pharisee. It was not too late to turn around, forget it all, save looking foolish, call it a moment of insanity. Yet, despite any doubt, she feels her feet carry her forward. Ardent, panting and perspiring, she makes her way to the large inner chamber of the banquet weaving through all the people. She does not dare look up. She can feel the heat of their burning disproval on the back of her neck. She hears the steady hum of conversation dwindle to hushed tones of disgust and scandal as they recognise her. People are moving a safe distance away from her. She pays them no mind, her eyes locked on this one Man. She had boldly chased after many men, but none like this. The room is silent now as they realise Who she came for. Does she really have the audacity to come before this righteous Man who claims to be God?

She walks forward, with one thing in mind. Sharp inhale. She stops right in front of him. Without lifting her eyes from the ground, she quietly and slowly kneels and lets down her hair. Memories flash before her of all those nights she used her hair as a snare to seduce, remembering all those fingers that ran wild and passionately through them. Her vision blurs as her eyes pour. Thick, heavy droplets of regret fall to His feet. She remembers the words spoken to her, how it was always her eyes that drew them in and held them captive, possessing their own alluring power. The eyes that stained her life with sin, now moistened His feet.

She stammers. With no words to say she does the only thing she could; she washes His feet. She takes her trembling hands, the same vessels that fed the pleasures of men, cups His feet and holds the thick strands of her locks to wipe them. She wonders if she has crossed a line, but He does not stop her or move away. She was accustomed to desiring men, but never desiring their forgiveness.

She takes her lips, lips that eagerly sought and caressed bare flesh, and kisses His feet. The room breaks out in shock; horror and objections ring loud in the room. An exchange of mutterings, naming her immoral, worthless and irreverent. She feels Him staring at her but she feels no fear and no shame. The others see Him staring at her, in a way they haven’t seen Him stare before. His eyes glisten, there is warmth. She knows how it feels to be stared at by a man, a ravaging stare full of fervent desire, but this was not the same. She feels Him look right through her. She is known, for the first time.

She pulls out her alabaster flask, her costly jar of sensual pleasure used to arose her lovers. The memories race, the images flash. She forcefully pushes them away as she breaks the alabaster flask. Her tears mingle with perfume and she continues to wipe with her hair. She kisses and pours; impure lips become holy. The beautiful fragrance rises. He does not speak but she feels His radiating, pure love. She feels something unexplainable she has never known before. Is this acceptance? Is this what it means to belong? She lifts up her head, looks Him in the eye, and she knows; nothing will ever be the same.

Luke 7 has its ending, but I’ve always wondered what happens next. I think of her departure to her normal life after being told that she was forgiven and loved. I think of how she must have replayed that moment over and over again in her head, how she must have wanted to tell everyone, scream and dance because of how light she felt and how her heart must have burst with joy. That cherished moment she shared with Her Saviour will forever be theirs. I also think of the men who must have knocked on her door that night. All those men that kept knocking because they never believed that she could change. I think of years of learnt behaviour that was like second nature and all she saw from her former life when she closed her eyes to pray. I think of her walking back into her bedroom, those four walls that contained all her unchaste amorous nights, and trying to pray. To rise in the place that she fell.

For, redemption is no passive, tidy ideology. Redemption is real and redemption is messy, it is as messy as sweat and a bloody cross. And it is on that same cross that the proclamation was made, “Tetelestai,” confirming the end, it is finished, it is done. No need to walk with head hanging low, shame raised high, but walk joyously in the light. The light that beckons every soul; those who have given in to every single fleshly desire and all those who haven’t. Because the Light does not differentiate, it infiltrates every darkness; and darkness has no measure. It is that same Light that looks upon us with the eyes of compassion and gives us the assurance that,

“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.”
Romans 8:1

Our belief in this truth is dependent solely on ourselves and not in other peoples responses to our former life, our own thoughts or the enemies lies. Our remembrance of our sexual sin can be crippling. We may be crippled by the way we once behaved; disregarding the holy in ourselves and in others. We may be crippled by the fear of falling back into old ways, and the fear of being too marred in the eyes of another. The taste of sexual pleasure is not an easy one to forget, and we may fear our longing for that same gratification. We may be haunted by the words spoken once on dark nights, or the daily glances that remind us of the power we possess. It is a life-long battle to fight, whilst holding tight to the truth that there is now no condemnation, and expectantly praying, “According to your good will, O God fill our hearts with your peace. Cleanse us from all blemish, all guile, all hypocrisy, all malice and the remembrance of evil entailing death” (The Liturgy According to St Basil the Great).

And as we pray this, may we approach the Eucharist, His own flesh and blood, just as the woman approached Him, offering every piece of herself at His feet, broken like the alabaster jar. She recognised Him not as an ordinary man but as her Saviour, yet we often approach Him as mere bread and wine, blind to the Majesty that pours Himself out before us. Let us walk repentantly, with fear and trembling, towards the Holy One and partake of the exchange of life that He offers, no matter what sin we laid with the night before, knowing that His love grants us the audacity to approach Him with confidence and being rooted in His Life, the mystical power to flee all other lovers.

So I will not be afraid to speak of my past sin, the desire of sin on skin, the Edenic memory of Adam and Eve’s freedom in expression and pleasure corrupted and abused. Because, this I know, forgiveness and freedom is mine, and though I am a woman of unclean lips, as my lips touch His feet, there is redemption’s tale to tell.

Let the fragrance rise.

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth with it, and said:
“Behold, this has touched your lips; Your iniquity is taken away, And your sin purged.”
Isaiah 6:6-7

This body
My body
A swift sword
A time bomb
Ticking
Cutting

This soft skin that curves around me
That frames and encompasses me
I have seen its unsurpassed powers
I have tasted its intoxication
Eyes wide open
To its irresistible magic

Hard to forget
Its delicious sweet nectar
Dripping subtle, potent poison
This body
Is not a body
But a weapon

Of charm and deceit
Of self seeking ambition
I waste in admiration and affirmation
I glory in attention and adoration
I am a queen
Fluent in Sensuality’s language

The power euphoric
The formula, tried and tested
A gaze and a flutter of the eyes
The control to summon and cast away
The siren song that calls your name
To shipwreck on the stones

And I howl
“Come, I will take away your pain”
To those that pant for it gladly
Like a dark mist
Leaving corpses rotten and defiled
Asphyxiating all breath, all life

So I numbed all feeling
Revelled in my conquer and rule
Sank my feet in my reckless storm
This body
Is just a body
Empty, hollow and cold

The more it consumes
The more it seeks to devour
This body is flames
A trail of dust in its wake
Nothing it touches will escape
Nothing is left standing

Least of all myself
This body is foreign
I do not want it
So I hide and cover it
Who can free me
From this body of death?

A stranger in this body of death
Dismembered from my lifeless soul
I feel my body’s betrayal
Under a man’s unrelenting gaze
I feel the poison flood my veins again
When their heads turn

I am reminded of the queen I could be
The thrill of control
I feel the rumbling and the stirring
Threatening to take over
Seduction is awakening
She is hungry from her slumber

But I will deprive her
Lay her down in silent, painful death
Bind her in burial cloths and dig a grave
Roll a boulder in front of the entrance
Scream TETELESTAI
For indeed, it is finished

Because I am not poison, I am not sword
And I wait on a promise like a thread
Keeping me from fraying at the edges
Of the God who calls out to dry bones
Giving life to sinew after sinew
The God who never fails those who wait

The God who wore humanity’s chains
To shatter our every chain
The God who rolls heavy stones away from tombs
And raises from the dead
The God who puts heavy stones down out of your hand
And says, “Live loved”

In truth, I believe that in Him
All the old has passed away
In the Spirt
I am finally liberated
The Veil torn
My face unveiled

He steps into my tomb
And when I look Him in the eyes
I see myself
He tells me who I am
Not thorn but Lily
He tells me Rise and live

I believe, help my unbelief.

Co-written with Sandra.

I think of Good Friday, of the Son of God breathing His last, of His followers watching from afar in dismay and horror as the gruesome events unfolded one by one. I think of them looking on in disbelief as they held their breath and held on to some last hope that things wouldn’t end that way, that there would be a dramatic turn around of circumstance and the sky would rend open as the Father’s power and majesty thundered and delivered the Son in a grand display.

Yet, His head hung low and He died.

I wonder how everyone felt at that moment; the teary eyed knocked breathless, the disillusioned riled up with anger. As the disciples lay hidden in fear, the smell of bread and wine from just one night before lingering in their lungs. As His followers walked away from the scene and returned to their homes, His words still running through their minds. Could they have gotten it so wrong? Could they have misread all the signs? Surely His words were true? Surely if He was God’s Son they couldn’t have killed Him? What comes next?

Confused, restless, crushed.

Waking up numb and blindsided to a dark Saturday morning and remembering all over again what they witnessed on Friday. How he’d gone just as quickly as he’s come into their lives. How everything would go back to the way it was without him. How nothing will ever really change and they must face this hopeless reality as their permanent reality.

Anxious, disappointed and defeated.

How many of us are living in Saturday? We were promised deliverance, we were hanging on to His words that it’s His good pleasure to give us the Kingdom and yet we think of certain points in our pasts, certain relationships, certain failures and disasters and we feel so far from that sanctification we longed for, and that newness of hope we were sure was coming.
How many of us look back and see an empty cross and Jesus is still buried in a tomb when we think of those Friday nights of our past?

We look now on the cross and we think of redemption, reconciliation, and salvation. But on that Saturday with Christ hung high, the choice words must have looked a lot different, a lot like: shame, disappointment and despair.

Will we live out our Saturday till the dawn of Sunday? There’s always two ways to tell the story of the cross. Will we choose to tell it way we know to be true? Will we choose the story that ends on Sunday morning with Christ risen trampling death and our past and our shame in the tomb instead?

“The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Because we are not our past, yet we cannot deny the story existed, and we existed in it. But we can choose how we tell this story to ourselves. We can chose whether it becomes our whole story or just part of our story. We can tell it to ourselves in a way that the darkness turns into a canvas for all the foolish pride and vain idols to lose their grip as our saviours as we learn to grope in the dark and grip onto Him, finding our heart’s true desire. We can tell it so that our words pave a path through darkness – a path of letting go, a path of abandoning oneself, losing oneself, and in so doing ultimately finding what is real.

“Heaven is God and God is in our heart” so we are living in the eternal now, with the sacred inside. Wherever we go we can bring the Kingdom. And when our mind travels down memory lane and our hearts beat heavy and our spirits falter fast we can bring our stories of old into His kingdom and His eternal story

An eternal story of calmed fear and restored hope
An eternal story our deep and irrevocable communion with the Divine
An eternal story of all that was once corrupted with fickle inconsistencies and restless unfaithfulness restored to their heavenly natures.

And when we tell our story in this way to ourselves we can begin to transcend ourselves on our way to reunification with God. To see God is to see His energies and light through everything and everyone – through our past and our shame. We are a light of love eternal and St Symeon the New Theologian once said: “God is light and all those whom He makes worthy to see Him receive Him as light”

So endure the dark night, it is a guiding night and a night more kindly than the dawn. And let the night leave you vulnerable to God to recreate you as you were made to be: lovers of God and one another. Love is the law. “Let Love come first, it should be the beginning of, and the reason for everything.” So that wherever you go you may see Light.

Will you tell the story of your past in a way that frees you? The pieces of your past and every last wound must no longer be buried with Him and sealed with a stone beyond reach.

It is Sunday morning.

There is an empty cross, there is an empty tomb and there is a risen King. A risen King who is telling a new story of our past – broken homes, broken hearts and all. A risen King who is the Word so He gets the last word. For He gathers all the broken words in every line of every story we’ve strung along and unites all of our words to all of Him, giving them Life. “That is the good news of the Incarnation. The Word becomes flesh and thus a new place is made where all of you and all of God can dwell. When you have found that unity, you will be truly free” Henri Nouwen

And we will run, living testimonies of the great Love story.

“because of the tender mercy of our God,
whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Luke 1:78-80

“oh as you run, what hindered love will only become part of the story” Bethel

Check out part two here!

“Never alter yourself to satisfy others” I hear you say to all your friends; “be yourself!” you preach. Really? You really want to go there Michael? The intention of this letter isn’t to break you, but build you. Wake up! I want to see you grow into the man you know that you’re called to be.

There is only One who knows you even better than I do – but I know you pretty darn well. You’re so bruised, so broken and insecure, so empty and fragile. The bullying of your past and the disgusting sins you’ve allowed to consume your life have poisoned your life. You’re so fake, so so fake my friend. If only you could see it… if only you’d allow yourself to look to the One who can show you a true reflection of who you currently are and who you were created to be.

Day and night you remember the bullying and nasty remarks said to you all through primary and secondary school. Yes, you had every right to be hurt but how foolish were your follow-up actions Michael? You’ve built walls after walls around yourself, attempting every possible way to mask the hurt you feel. You keep running from your list of insecurities that’s getting larger and larger. You’re so afraid of rejection that you’ve built multiple personas that perfectly fit all the boxed categories of your life; the funny-never-serious Michael vs the ‘deep’-serious-advice-giver Michael. The loud Michael overcompensating for the humour that you feel you lack vs the quiet and contemplative Michael that’s so foreign to people because they only get to see him when you’re seriously hurt. Every time you see an attribute you admire in someone, you copy and paste. A new identity. A new Michael added to the list. Another way to gain popularity and approval. You’ve completely convinced yourself that your worth comes only through the way you dress and your hairstyles – after all, that’s what you’re always getting complimented on right?

But thank God you’re not like these ‘terrible sinners’ around you at church that club and drink; you’re a passionate servant of the Lord – holy and righteous…and you make sure everyone sees it. You live for the moment when your deacon voice will be noticed, ask the most intellectual questions at youth meeting because that’s how you view spirituality and have an opinion about every political aspect in the church. At school it’s even harder – you have to work extra hard for that attention! You’re speaking vulgar words that you’d never imagined yourself to say. You publically proclaim yourself as ‘Coptic Orthodox Christian’ when you have no idea what Orthodoxy’s about. You run after gossip; you crave it – what else can you possibly talk about? Any other topic will show how boring you believe you really are.

You feed off people’s attention and compliments; everyday you run after your own glory and thirst for people’s approval. Stop, please stop! Don’t you see this life of absolute hypocrisy that you’re living? Can’t you feel the void in your heart?! Michael, all you’re running after, all you desire, everything you’ve ever wanted to be, every insecurity you’ve wanted to eradicate is found in JESUS. It’s Jesus that gives freedom. In His freedom you’ll find your identity – who you’re called to be! And oh Michael, if only you’d allow Him to share with you some of His plans for you…. if only you’d allow Him to start healing you…. if only you’d look to His everything instead of your nothing. Michael there’s something that I’m about to share with you that will change your life forever, one word that will literally turn your world upside down: GRACE. Yes, grace! God loves you forever Michael, He loves you as much as He loves St. Mary, St. Abanoub and the Pope – NO LESS, He’s madly in love with you while you’re committing your ugliest filthiest sin! You. Are. Loved. Unconditionally.

I want to let you know that one day you’ll look up to Heaven and for the first time you’ll be honest before God, openly telling Him your fear of people, of the future, of Him.. and oh Michael I can’t begin to explain to you how you’ll be transformed right there and then in that moment with your Saviour. Healing will finally begin! The Holy Spirit will flood your heart; a consuming fire will literally burn within you. He WILL give you peace. He WILL give you confidence. He WILL give you the identity you’ve been running after your entire life. At last you will begin to live.

Now blameless, He calls you holy; you’ve been forgiven,
He calls you righteous and free.

Now spotless, He calls you worthy; you are His child,
He calls you chosen, you are His.

Dear younger me, you were never meant to carry this beyond the cross.

Every mountain, every valley, through each heartache you will see,
that in every moment Jesus brings you closer to who you were meant to be.

Love,
Michael

“She said to her mistress, “if only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria!
He would cure him of his leprosy.”
2 Kings 5:3

Tell me Lord, like never before, because lately I’ve been needing to hear it more. Tell me I’m worth fighting for.

We’re all the same, desperate to be told we matter. Desperate to be told that our darkness is seen and that we are still accepted. The world is full of broken and scared hearts with a rich supply of cheap, fake bandages but without the one thing that is needed – the true Physician.

Can You be the wounded Healer for me? I want to get close enough to run my hands through Your scars so that I can feel how dearly I am loved. I want to find my scarred heart in Your scarred hands, arrested with grace that is written in Your scars. Engrave: “I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine” on my heart.

But everything tells me otherwise. Everything reminds me of how I have been a woman of many disasters. And who will accept that? Who can love that? There are days where my past and the world lists all the things I hate about myself. Just one word: everything. My mountain-moving God, tell me what You love about me. Is it just that one word? Is it really everything? I need You to tell me because on the days I don’t hear it from You, I may not hear it from anyone else. And there’s this guy who tells me I’m beautiful and sounds like he means it. I’ve told him the worst things I’ve done and he still stays. He reminds me that I could still be all the things I wish – someone that someone wouldn’t give up on but would pursue and keep. He can keep my insecurities away for a while. But it’s never enough. It’s just another bandage that covers the cut but doesn’t heal it. I know that this fleeting approval is not something I can keep. I know You are the one thing I can’t loose. I need You to tell me what I am to You.

What do You see when You look at me? I can’t bear to look at me. There are things I never thought I would do. Places I never thought I would go. A past that accuses and haunts. But I know of a woman who was caught in sin once, who You protected from an accusing and angry crowd, maybe even an accusing and angry self. When You looked her in the eyes and told her You don’t condemn her. You looked beyond her past and saw all the things she had forgotten and all the things no one else could see – all the things she thought had been lost all these many years ago in a rumble of one of her many disasters. You saw all she was created to be in You.

She saw defiled, You saw redeemed. She saw worthless, You saw someone You would die to save. She saw an adulterer, You saw a daughter of the King of Kings.

I think I could be her. I think I need You now more than ever. But I don’t need to be fixed. How can You fix ashes? I don’t need to be put together. How can You put together all these fragments of regret? I need to be crafted into Beauty. I need to be made new. My future hangs on this – You offer me a chance to hope. I have seen and heard of Your mighty, wondrous works. I have seen sin, ugliness and dust made into preciousness. Give me mercy as infinite as You. Give me second chances as infinite as You. Countless sins traded for countless second chances at the cross.

God, Your love is one of those things I will never wrap my mind around. What is it about Your love that scares me? I’ve heard it said before that we only accept the love we think we deserve. Imagine the most perfect person you can think of. Imagine they tell you they would choose you in a hundred lifetimes, worlds and realities. Imagine if they told you they love you even on your worst day and that there is nothing more or less you could do to change their commitment to you. There is nothing I could become that You would not love. I think Your love makes us fear because we do not think we deserve it. We can’t earn it and we can’t try to love You the same way back. I think Your love is hard to accept because a love that is pure and strong assaults us and batters at the gates of our heart, demanding that we be made new.

“Love is beautiful, but it is also terrible—terrible in that its determination to allow nothing blemished or unworthy to remain in the beloved.” – Hannah Hurnard, Hind’s Feet on High Places

You stop at nothing and I never know what I will have to do for You to take away the blemishes and bring beauty. Teach me how to trust and surrender. A love this bold and fierce is too delightful and attractive to resist but I don’t know if I can trust this love not to leave me high and dry. Experience and life has taught us that people can’t keep promises and will always disappoint. That it’s only a matter of time. And being vulnerable just means giving your heart a chance to break and someone to take advantage of you. But You are not man. You are my redeeming Maker and Your promises do not perish or exaggerate. I really have a second chance except it’s with the same person and I think that’s hard for me because we are creatures of memory. I can’t forget myself. How can You rewind? How can You erase all the memories of my unfaithfulness? It scares me that the ugliest in me doesn’t scare You away. But I think what that means scares me more. Because if I can’t come before You like a slave and a master who has completed tasks and paid their dues, but if instead I must come to You based on Your infinite goodness and mercy, doesn’t that mean You can ask anything of me?

There are no rules in grace – just burned bridges.

Does that scare me because secretly I hate needing You so much. I want to master You, I don’t want to be desperate and dependent. But if I can’t love You the way You love me then that’s exactly what I have to be if I want to have You – poor, wretched but seized by gratefulness and a desire to have You above all things, even myself. Is it because in light of such astounding Love, by contrast my un-loveliness is so stark? Is it because Your love makes me acutely aware of my true condition – as a sinner – and humble forgiveness is much harder to accept than a list of laws and regulations to follow?

But reliance on forgiveness is how I get close to Your heart and it’s how I feel loved. Those you have forgiven much love much, so my sins, which are many, will be forgiven if I love much. Is it because this love requires me to be so small and insignificant since I am so underserving of it when the world has taught me to seek to be greater and bigger; because anything I own that is not of my labor is not really mine?

Lord, may I be able to say with King David “Your love is better than life.” May I never forget that just as You did not consider it robbery to be equal with God but descended to our misery so I too can also free myself from the hunger, to be made into something more, hungering only for the greatness that comes from being kept as Your child. Do not stop banging on the door of my heart to transform me because I am dull of hearing and slow to answer. It is easier to see You as Master rather than Lover because I don’t trust myself with the power that comes with knowing I am treasured and prized to no end. Do not let me run from Your relentless, unceasing love. Help me to see what You see in me – my identity. Help me to see His sacrifice. I want to be hidden in that. Love me in a way that makes me unable to return to my other lovers. Free me from myself but not from You. Keep me in my Father’s house, in His embrace, where His shouts to cloth me with robes of righteousness drown out my objection to His forgiveness.

“Return to the stronghold, you prisoners of hope. Even today I declare that I will restore double to you.”
Zechariah 9:12

It looks like you have it all together, it seems you excel in every area, but dear I know you very well. For your parent, you are the A* student, never slipping a grade. For your friends, you are always the drunkest, never missing a party. It’s funny because you think you are living life on the edge…but if only you knew just how close you are to falling off.

But you are still in church every Sunday, singing words you don’t understand. All you can do is hold back the hangover with a smile. When you walk into church your heart is weighed down with guilt, because it all just seems like a list of rules; all of which just seem so tauntingly impossible not to break. You have painted a silver lining on the cloud of sin that is storming inside of you, at least you haven’t done this and at least you haven’t done that. That is, until the silver turns gradually into grey and there is almost nothing left. The idea of being a rebel just seems so much more exciting. I know no-one has ever told you this, it almost seems like a secret, but being a follower of Christ is to be rebellious, being a follower of Christ is more than exciting and there is a little thing called grace that might just amaze you.

Right now, you just don’t see it; you’re so blind. You have numbed yourself with the speed of it all…or maybe that’s just the alcohol. Maybe if you keep on running, you will never have to stop to feel anything. Maybe if you keep distracted, you won’t have to see what’s inside. But maybe it’s time to stop. Just take a moment, and take a glimpse. It’s really not hard to see that inside you are so broken. You think you are happy but I just can’t wait until you see that word redefined. True happiness can only be found in Him.

In a cycle of self destruction, you coat yourself with a healthy dose of makeup to prepare for your unhealthy habit of flirty and flaunting your lunchtime away. Only Christ can set you free, because I know you are trying, but you can’t do it on your own, no-one can. It’s time you realise that no boy is going to fix you; there is only one redeeming love. It only takes a few cheap words to fall under that spell, and for those moments you feel loved. The problem is; you just have no idea what you are worth, you just think you are already broken and who would want that. But broken, Someone bought you at a price, and I can tell you, you were very expensive. Maybe you’ll never understand just how much, but know that it’s immeasurable! You see your problem is you are empty and all you need is love. I know the well is so very deep, but believe me this isn’t going to fill you up. Put down that drink and just take one cup of living water; you’ll never thirst again.

So I just want to leave you a few truths to cast out the lies and the darkness …

Someone out there has already approved you, someone out there already loves you! You don’t have to win Him over. You are already His and He is already yours. I know you don’t know Him, but one day He will come and meet you and rescue you from your hurt. What you DID is not WHO you are. He will tell you who you are and it’ll take its time to sink in, but let me give you a hint…you are a daughter of a King.

Yours sincerely, Freedom

Monica

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”- C.S Lewis