6/7

They stand, all
Along the course
Of our years,
Solemn monuments
Of unfaithfulness;
And none return,
Save in haunted memory:
Life is full of too lates;
That sad sound
Of the moment lost,
That moans through
The roofless ruins
Of our past,
Like the desert wind
Through some cold,
Deserted temple.

Indeed

Men speak of
The passions that clog,
With the evasive assurance
Of a superficial and reckless mind;
As face answers only
To face in a glass:
The apprehension of pain,
The fear of death,
The dread of the world’s laugh
Enslave alike;
Yet it is not to enjoy,
But to be, that we long for;
A craving, with which
We can part, only,
When we sink below humanity,
For ignorance is the worm
That gnaws the blossom;
Yet the eye, strong enough
To pierce the shadow of death;
Is not troubled because
The mist is dispelled.......and
Seeks not the strength,
Of strengthless dreams:
Striking from the soul,
The fetters of sense;
He delivers, from the
Illusions of time and matter:
Ye shall be free indeed:
It is a grand word, indeed;
Comforting in its simplicity;
It is a word of wonder.......indeed:
There are many kinds of liberty,
But only One “indeed.”

Eyes

The eyes,
Rest in darkness:
Laying up capacity,
Yet eroding vision;
Old things seen
Be no longer true,
Creation vents, unaware
On a dull,
Effeminate age;
Myths of imagination,
Shaded and softened
Like the slow
Crushing of amber,
The measured stoking
Of defilement,
Kindles a flame
It cannot subdue:
He looks away
To see anew
And the peace
Of ages fades
Into the smoke.

East of Eden

East of Eden,
He had dreamed
His dreams;
There was rest
In the wilderness:
Taught by the breeze,
And the mountain,
To bathe in that
Deep, and mighty silence,
That spreads itself
Beyond the noise of man:
The details of
Banquet and blood:
Of an encounter
Beneath the gloom,
And a confluence, swift,
With the executioner;
Amid the flickering 
Of the lights above,
Strike us still
With a shudder,
That lets the peace
Of lonely places,
Sink with benediction
On their souls:
For you know;
Things seen
Within narrow walls
Assume a dreadful bulk
Which we can never see
Until it finds us out.

The Dragon Ascends

The dragon ascends
On the thermals of chaos,
And the winds of wrath.

Eyes of malison,
Cold...grim, as the grey wolf,
Scan the horizon.

Seeking prey below,
With cold heart, and bloody hand,
Shield answers to shaft.

A voice like thunder,
Impaled on pain's own blade;
A blast of trumpets.

Now the ravens sing;
On the eve of carrion,
And heavy hand play.

Hoarsely barks the crow;
Warm blood upon his feathers
From the fallen one.

Here he lies, alone;
For stone dead has no fellow:
Dry bones waste away.

The Quiet

The quiet, is
A realm within,
That is me,
Not me,
And greater
Than me.
Here He speaks
In a breath of silence:
Like the coming
Of a gentle breeze;
But always in a stillness,
That is grander
Than me;
Envelopes me;
And finally calls, to
That deeper truth,
Of the full moment
That is close within me;
So now, in quiet,
The knowing
Is so simple,
And so clear;
His silence surrounds;
In it, do all things
Display their depth;
And here, I find,
I am but a part
Of the depths of
All around me; and
When my silence within,
Comes to savor, and value
The silence that envelopes,
I will have entered,
Into the very
Heart of prayer;
When the two connect:
Silence into silence;
I am lifted into
The Mind of Christ:
For He is to be found
Only in the depths;
And in the depths,
It is always silent.

Let us proclaim the name of the Lord boldly in the face of this assault. It is not by silence, but by fearless expression that we persevere.......it is not by drifting with the tidal flows of culture, but by endurance in the Truth that we claim our stake.......for our sacrifice here will be the blood-food for a new luxuriousness.......this Truth will be sustained and enriched only by expression, endurance, and sacrifice.......it is the Way of Christ.

Vistas of Perception

Vistas of perception:
Was it accident,
Or simply
Times unlooked for;
In ways unknown.
A breath suffices,
To blow the
Candle of life
Out .......
Yet we are given
To the chariot
Of uncertainties:
Man is born
To trouble;
As the sparks
Fly upward.

The Music

Isa 54:10 For the mountains may depart, and the hills be removed; but my lovingkindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall my covenant of peace be removed, saith Jehovah that hath mercy on thee.

There is the music of Eternity in the very sound of these words. It is the stride of these words that lends itself, and leads into the beautiful melody that lies below them; sweeping, as it will, through the whole of creation: parting all things into the transient, and the Eternal; the mortal and the immortal. Yet as powerful as are these words, and the thoughts that accompany them, the music, once heard, is greater still. Take away the thought, and the words, and the music still abides; for the things of God, the performance, the permanence, the flow, and the power abide from heart to heart through the melody of His changeless love. The music is the stamp of authenticity, as being spoken by 'Jehovah that hath mercy on thee.'

A Floret

In that barren land,
A Floret, grows among thorns;
Calling out softly,

Like a whispering,
That comes gently on the wind:
"I Am Life to you."

Mob Rule


In the last 12 years or so, at least since 9/11, we’ve been reduced to something like the ancient Athenian mob — with opportunistic politicians sometimes inciting, sometimes catering to an already-angry public.

The Greek comic playwright Aristophanes once described how screaming politicians — posing as men of the people — would sway Athenian citizens by offering them all sort of perks and goodies that the government had no idea of how to pay for; and the massive riots and chaos that followed, when these promises were not fulfilled.

The Roman Empire of the mighty Caesars was brought to its knees repeatedly in the third and fourth centuries by wars within the legions brought on by the powerful mobs of Rome, seeking ever more goodies in return for their acquiescence; and this continual weakening from within led directly to its complete collapse, when it was overrun by the barbarians of the fifth century.

Lately we’ve allowed our government to forget its republican roots. We’ve given up on thoughtful political discourse, and gone whole hog; The Athenian and Roman model of mob politics has broken out across our land; and stifled all reasonable attempts at consensus.

Obama's team sees America as a nation where might makes right; the will of the mob, as expressed through our visionary leader Obama is all that matters. An America without the restraint of power is dangerous. His arrogance and disregard for the Constitution and our founders is astounding. But, it doesn't matter to him, votes, and power are all he cares about. And once he has given the power to his legions, the votes won't matter anymore either.

The rule of law is a carnival show to President Obama. This mounting mob induced inferno that we see, he has built on his own, and he now owns all of it. The rule of the mob is President Obama's legacy not only to the ordinary American but to the entire planet. What is it about this president's desire to want to overthrow duly elected governors, duly elected world leaders and overturn the rule of law, everywhere? And what is it with the democrats' new-found love of violent mobs that seem to mushroom now in every direction you look?

When leaders begin to use the infrastructure of government to harass and bully and extort opposition and dissenters, you know that we now live in an unfree society. It seems that we really are in the last days of freedom as we have known it.

Politics unguided by a framing document such as the Constitution always descends into mob rule; and we have thrown ours overboard by the actions, and occasionally the inactions, of all three branches of our government; no one in government has clean hands here. Whichever political party assembles a large enough mob in Washington issues draconian edicts favoring itself. The first casualty is liberty and order. Political chaos is inevitable because social order is overturned when a mob controlled by the opposite party retakes Washington and does the exact same thing. The only long term certainty is further uncertainty of continual revolution, as each side seeks the anhilation of the other, and its mob.

In effect there is no constitution. There is only the political jungle. To the victor go the spoils.

The Obama administration has proven that a mob big enough to give you everything you want, is also big enough to take it away. Obama has proven he is willing to use the force of this mob against the American people.

President Obama chose to use taxpayer money to shut down the World War II open-air memorial, close private businesses on public property, and sent out the riot police to enforce his rules; and when they protested and defied him, he lashed out like an angry, petulant child. This is the first time in my memory a president, a sitting president, has attacked the American people, used abusive language toward them and publicly ridiculed Americans for using their First Amendment rights to petition the government for grievances.

President Obama has violated the trust of the American people and his reign of terror is unacceptable. Are we on the way to imprisoning those who have a difference of opinion? Will this government under Obama imprison Americans who disagree with him? Is theft of your personal property becoming common? Do you owe 100 percent of your labor to government for the common good? I sometimes wonder at both the lengths of these mobs; and the timidity demonstrated by the American people in their wake.

It seems the rule of law is now mob rule. And with mob rule the government turns its guns on the people.

With this ascendancy of lawlessness politicians employ tactics intended to sway the public mob. Class war identifies the political enemy target. Attack “the weakest, the unpopular, the uncooperative” as they are defenseless when in the grasp of the mob. These politicians seem confident that the mob will never turn on them, and that they will never require protection from the rule of law; but that is not the testimony of history.

Everywhere these tactics of mob rule have appeared, they have lead to political, social, economic; and finally, national chaos. And through this ensuing chaos, all freedoms outside of the last mob were lost, and dictatorship, or conquest, in one form or another, became the order of the day.

It's time people, to stand for what we believe in, and know to be true. Is our life so precious that we will simply roll over, and give all to the mob? And what of succeeding generations? Do we owe them nothing?

When

When our heart bursts out in praise of God during the darkest night in our personal desert, something profoundly wonderful emerges; in the desert we begin to accept that the God of the burning bush, has become the God of the burning heart.

Nobody told me;
Not anybody,
... not ever ...
That it was,
And always would be,
Until it is told ....
Fully ....... and forever:
That it is all a Story;
A brilliant, powerful Story;
With all the power
Of its Being;
And for the time
Of its Being.

It was never
A lip to lip;
Mind to mind
Communication of
What word you will:
Then, a thought,
Just a thought,
Of its being;
And not being told;
And the ought of it,
To be told,
Came to me.

So then, was I drawn,
To think upon it,
And about it;
And to see the beauty,
And the blinding glory,
Of the fact,
Of the story,
Without which,
None is complete:
To grasp for that
Coruscating, vibrating,
Beauty and magnificence,
That sets all things
At the tips of
Imminent explosion,
Yet holds them back,
That the elegance
And loveliness
Might not erupt,
Prematurely.

I am beyond
The point of disclaiming;
For I am knowing,
That the Story is;
And is, what it is:
My avid desires,
Come into fullness,
To the intended goal
Of comprehension.
Because it is born
Of the Storyteller;
I tread in the vortex
Of the Rivers that flow
To -- and then from,
All corners of creation;
From the primal time:
From its center,
And its perimeter,
And then back again;
So that the All of It,
Has been enspirited
Within me:
I am in the midst
Of understanding.

Something has settled
Within me;
Faith has it work,
In my depths:
I am aware that,
Knowing so little,
And seeing less;
I was beholding much;
And living more:
Like being in
A wintered wood,
Where the mists
Were deep and damp;
And they swirled
About the trees;
As hiding, and
Then illuminating
The reality,
Of the Beauty.

I am beyond
The point of disclaiming;
For I am knowing,
That the Story is;
And is, what it is:
My avid desires,
Come into fullness,
To the intended goal
Of comprehension.
Because it is born
Of the Storyteller;
I tread in the vortex
Of the Rivers that flow
To -- and then from,
All corners of creation;
From the primal time:
From its center,
And its perimeter,
And then back again;
So that the All of It,
Has been enspirited
Within me:
I am in the midst
Of understanding.

The soul muses in silent awe as it gazes upon the fathomless love of Christ; there are depths we cannot sound, heights we cannot explore: an infinite fulness and freeness, like a rising tide, grips our soul in the contemplation of such wonders.

John’s gospel could be called an experiential, or walking gospel, because of its focus on the reality of knowing, experiencing, and abiding in Christ. From the first chapter of John’s gospel to its final pages it describes the testimony of Christ through individuals whose lives were dramatically changed by the touch of God. From the wedding feast in Cana to the vivid picture of Lazarus hopping from his tomb, lives were being renewed from personal encounters with Christ. Nicodemus was stunned by the power of His words, while the blind found sight, and the leper found healing in His touch. The multitudes ate bread and fish, the wedding company had their wine, and the disciples had their feet washed. Faith was being awakened in dead hearts; all, from personal encounters with Christ. John called it, receiving of His fullness, grace upon grace.

A Song of Life

Bless the LORD, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name.

This is a psalm of worship. It is a true psalm of life: the experience of a throbbing human heart; born of the Spirit, and fully alive in God. It is worship, at its most basic and sublime; it is a soul's walking song to God; it is humanity’s psalm of adoration to God. And it is meant to be a living, breathing, working song -- sometimes earthy, in its tears and grit; sometimes radiant, in its joy and praise -- but always, in this walk of faith, does this melody flow; for worship is the song of life.

The lambs of God, the singers of this aria, sing with impassioned ardor of the goodness of God; and of His lovingkindness in the midst of our struggles; and we sing on, continually, in all we do, because this overwhelming desire to worship was created within us by our risen Savior -- not as an add-on, but as an intrinsic part of our very nature. We were literally created to walk in worship; to live in adoring celebration of Him who gave us life.

This living, walking relationship of worship, is unique. It is based within the utter mystery of our being of the family of God through the blood of Yeshua; and, as in any living relationship, it is not a one-sided affair. It is a continuous exchange of songs and gifts -- we give of our infirmities, and we receive of His love; only to sing out of His glory in a voice given to us by God, Himself -- and as we sing of our struggles, our failings, and our aspirations; we hear a second voice, the voice of God within us, joining in this aria of life with His songs of consolation, forgiveness, grace, and strength. Living worship is two walking together; singing the harmonies of One.

Open Mic This Morning 04/14 by Cunnedas Ramble | Blog Talk Radio

Open Mic This Morning 04/14 by Cunnedas Ramble | Blog Talk Radio

Tomorrow morning at 10 eastern -- chat will be open

worship

Worship is a thirsty land crying out for rain -- It is a flame in its kindling birth -- It is a drop in quest of its ocean -- It is a voice in the night crying out in pain -- It is a soul standing in awe before the majesty and wonder of the heavens -- It is time subsiding into eternity -- It is a man being drawn up the altar stairs into God.

Sticks

Compare the troubles which we have to undergo in the course of the year — to a great bundle of sticks, far too large for us to lift. But God does not require us to carry the whole bundle at once. He mercifully unties the bundle, and gives us first one stick, which we are to carry today; and then another, which we are to carry tomorrow, and so forth.

We can easily manage our troubles, if we would only carry the trouble appointed for each day. But the load will be too heavy for us, if we carry yesterday's burden over again today, and then add the burden of tomorrow to the weight, before we are required to bear it.

Songs Along The Way: A personal song of worship and praise; in prose and verse.

There may be true grace in the heart, real faith and hope and love, even where there is much ignorance in the understanding. I have no doubt that there are many, whose judgments are weak and whose minds are on many points undisciplined, who yet possess the fear of God and believe in His Son.

By nature, man knows nothing of the purity and perfection of God — or the deep sinfulness and corruption of the soul. There is a veil over man's heart — a veil of ignorance; a veil of delusion; a veil of self-deception as regards the nature of our fallen soul.

We, my friends, all of us, who claim the Lord, must be cleansed from this slag of our own wisdom; our own strength; and our own righteousness, that Christ may become all in all. But Oh what stripping do we need to pull away the rags of self-righteousness which cleave so tightly to us. What hard labor it is, to wear us out of all our own strength, and to exhaust us of our own wisdom. What purging of the soul is needed to bring us down to that spot of helplessness and ruin, staggered, and humbled, before the Living god.



For nothing so detaches us from the clutter of life;
The love of self; or the dross that abides;
As does a season of anguish.



Have you never groaned
In bleeding lamentations?
Has the iron never
Seared your breast?
The lamb comes to Truth,
Only through a bitter draft;
He arrives at the banquet,
Weathered by the pangs of hunger;
He lays hold of the
Robe of Righteousness,
While yet chilled
In his own nakedness.


But when the Lord the Spirit takes a man really and vitally in hand — and He truly begins His sovereign work of grace upon the soul — He commences by opening up his astonished eyes to something approaching the real nature of sin. And, until we are all brought here, we really can know nothing of the rich provisions of loving grace, almighty power, and eternal mercy that are lodged within the fullness of Christ.



From a thousand heights,
The streams of life
Are ever rushing down:
The jutting rock,
The broken bough,
The crooked bank,
Even the rounded pebble;
Each, and all,
In their personal murmurs,
Are enough to trouble
These shallow waters,
And obstruct
Their narrow course.



Ye looked for much, and, lo, it came to little; and when ye brought it home, I did blow it away.......
.


This play of life,
Is a snowflake
On the pond:
A moment white,
Then gone forever;
Yea, without the Wine,
There is but
The empty cup.

Tears, falling
On the icy brow
Of death,
Can not redeem
The years:
Flowers on the grave,
Cast no
Backward fragrance
Over weary days.

Each small fragment:
Cupfulls of time;
In which our years
Come upon us;
Are buds of being:
Seed times, of a sort,
Unto Eternity:
A serene apocalypse,
In the hands
Of a loving God.


The many afflictions that the Lord's people must pass through, often causes their souls to feel cast down. And the Lord intends these things to cast them down. The Lord, in sending afflictions means them to do a certain work. We exult ourselves — afflictions are sent to bring us low. We are proud — afflictions are meant to humble. We are worldly — afflictions come to purge. Often, the Lord sends afflictions for just this purpose — to cast down the soul — that He, Himself may have the glory of raising it up.



The world passes away:
Change covers our horizon,
As the edge of oblivion.
Our life seems a fleeting dream;
As a leaf, lost in the rapids;
Or the fading tail of a shooting star.
Like the stormy winter's day,
We are the fitful breeze that sighs;
And the waning flame that dies:
Darting, dazzling to the eye;
As we fade into eternity.

A wisp of smoke,
A silken thread,
A passing shadow,
Or an ebbing wave:
Expressive emblems;
That fill our days,
Like a spider's web;
That binds, then blows away.
Like the loved ones,
Who once, encircled our hearts,
Or the friends of early years;
All now departed.

The sunny days of youth,
And the life that was so sweet;
Now kiss the earth,
Beclouded, and bittered,
As midwinter's gloom.
Yet amidst this drought;
Does He satisfy the soul,
And make fat the bones:
He brings Life, as a watered garden;
Like a living spring,
Whose waters fail not.


So, at last we seem brought to this point — to have no wisdom of our own to see the Way — and to have no strength to walk in the Way when seen — but that we must be guided every step by the Lord Himself.


For.......In Him; we find that.......


There are softer seasons,
Sprinkled among the years:
Times when the springs
Of life are unsealed,
And heavenly purposes
Come into birth.
We speak of being refreshed,
As though the rain had fallen;
As indeed it has:
Turning the hard ground,
Into forcing beds,
Of luxuriant growth.
"I will come down as the rain"
Says the Lord of Hosts;
And like the mist He comes.
Creating softer moods
In the old stony ground;
Causing it to be fragrant,
With His budding fruit


Behold.......My Friends.......


When the fields are clothed
With fruitfulness,
And the flowers
Bloom in beauty,
We know that the
Rains have come,
And the dews
Have descended .......


And here, in the Garden of the Lord, growing within your heart.......



The branches;
Wondrous and intricate,
In their multitude;
Are united,
And made one
In the Vine:
That Blood,
Which ascends
From the Root;
Refreshes every leaf,
And freely brings
Bloom, and savor,
Into every cluster.



Now do we feel the Spirit of God alive within our bosoms.......


Oh sing out,
My soul! ...//.... The plea
Of the penitent;
The cry of the wounded;
The adoration
Of the reverent;
And the song
Of the victor;
Are alike .../....
Welcome to His ear.



Heavenly Father, let me dwell
In unbroken contact with Thee,
Let Thy tides of divine Energy
Flow freely into and through
My halting, yet eager spirit,
Awaken my slumbering soul,
And pierce my willing heart.



Draw me, we will run after thee:
The king hath brought me into his chambers:
We will be glad and rejoice in thee,
We will remember thy love
More than wine: (for)
The upright love thee.



This is not the voice of nature, but the voice of grace; a mature grace, nurtured within His garden -- it has — a quickening influence — a penetrating energy — a driving force — which carries it into the inmost depths of the soul -- it comes from God — it leads to God — it is the love and labor of the Spirit of God — preparing us for that Eternal Home of Promise with God — it is the jewel among His gifts.


Praise Almighty God.......Amen.