Tuesday, December 23, 2008

The Calvary Road

I have been reading and re-reading a little hundred page book called "The Calvary Road" by Roy Hession written in 1950.
It has been a great book to read for me right now and here are some of his quotes:

"To be broken is the beginning of revival, it is painful, it is humiliating but it is the only way."

"Grace is not God's gift to the faithful, it is his gift for the empty and the feeble and the failing."

"Jesus gets his glory not in the number of good Christians he pats on the back, but the failures he restores."

"Revival is not a green valley getting greener, but a valley full of dry bones being made to live again."

"The only beautiful thing about the Christian is Jesus Christ."

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

There At The Sea

Not words that inspire or draw others to your cause, not words spoken from an oasis, but utterances from a soul desperate for peace. A broken hearts cry for solace spoken through cracked lips from a long thirsty walk in the wrong direction. A walk discovered to be a wandering of chaos and destruction. A man shaken by the realization that the footprints he just discovered in the sand are his own.
“I am here again” falls from broken, bleeding lips.
The carcass of rotting flesh has drawn me. The bloated hearts craving has steered the ship aground on the jagged rocks of its own embrace.
Can enough condensation gather on the wool to drip the shattering wave of grace again?
Is there one more measure of mercy to sing to this numb heart?
Is God’s grace gone a distant echo heard only by ears long since silenced? A nice theory painted on stony walls?

Surely not words voiced by a scarred wanderer, to him they are mere whispers of fantasy encased in turbulent seas. Yet the powerful voice that calmed the storm declares with redemptive authority their truth. Thirst speaks its need loud and very clear. Hunger displays the utter weakness of the human condition. Blind from desert wanderings we are led by the hand to the well, ushered there to be brought back to life, to see again, to hear the birds song in the trees at the oasis of mercy.
There is not but a drip of grace but alas, an endless ocean where wave after wave of unmerited acceptance fall upon the shores of our lives. The hideous disfigured wandering soul, unrecognizable to those closest, is there at the waters edge, beautiful. Favored and rescued he lay, having traveled through the barren inner lands now recognizing those fruitless attempts at peace, only and finally covered and free, there at the sea.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008


Starring through the dark portal my eyes sting again
Exhaustion has invaded my mind and travelled my veins
Dark thoughts invade my sanity stirring a cocktail of despair
The shell that used to be me paces in circles unable to eat or think
I am the leper on the street and alone in my stone cold bed
As this dark winter embraces me my heart loses all hope
Lips all around me speak of life, my ears are deaf to their bleating
I am the leper waiting for crumbs to fall from hopes table
Crashing and dying I spill my blood on this page
If I had the strength deep within lays a smoldering rage
But I am the leper again and no ear hears this pain
My body heaves with waves of grief pounding
My head constantly throbs as anguish makes its home
I am the leper again and this stain is on my shirt.
Pieces fall off of me out on the open road
Dogs eat my rotten flesh in the gathering place
What hope lies in this leper’s fate?
Its only when the incarnate One touches me again.