The God of Song

Dewy drops of familiar sound

Packaged tight with meaning bound

Fall on lobes of hearing stones

Yet lay dried and seem as moans

In the land where the def all sing

We try a tune like dragon fly’s wings

The echoing melody lightly flutters

But their damaged ears hear only mutters

The Sky’s expanse gently behaves

At the Mercy of these sonic waves

Or Earth gladly, in fire would melt

And yet the words go unfelt

Ancient patients hums a tone

And wishes ears of flesh had not become stone

The bones of men lay strewn and broken

No healing from stony lips be spoken

Yet a song sirens from the dusk laden hills

That covers statues of rock with flesh felt chills

Awake all ye def and frozen men

The God of song has sung again

The waking Dawn

There is a land where green stretches on

Oceans gone never again to separate

Pure light pours from there like a thousand dawns

Threat of War melts with none to instigate

Terrible tales of past worlds forgot

Hidden away in ancient libraries long ago burned

The foundations of this place were only sought

Through veil of pain as epic passion yearned

An undeserving bride as loved as any could know

Was pursued beyond the wall of a world of dirt

At the edge of emptiness an unforgiving voice bid go

Her lover watched with unrelenting hurt

Like madness her lover strode and dove too

Sure to kill them both the fall would be their end

Yet the power of his love filled the emptiness she knew

She found earthen steps below that did not descend

Her strength was too little her effort all for not

Fainting on the steps she found could climb no more

It seemed her lover’s sacrifice would fail un-fought

ON the steps she slept as nightmares at her hope tore

For eight thousand long years she slumbered

Her sleep pushed memories of her lover away

Until only by nightmares was she encumbered

And no recollection of her husband remained

One morning she woke were green stretches on

She saw no ocean that could ever separate

Brilliant light flowed like a thousand dawns

She turned to see her lover’s powerful face

A waterfall of liquid memories poured over her

She asked him why he didn’t wake her as she aged

He explained what happened when she fainted and after

It was he that held her while the wars of nightmares raged

He had carried her up the steps as he fought off enemies.

Until he found a place she could sleep danger free

He knew her nightmares were not met with ease

Yet he could not wake her until he planted a sacred tree

Thes tree he told her was not of common seed

It contained life itself but grew very slow

If he woke her before its fruit was ripe she would die indeed

So he patiently waited for the ancient wood to grow

In the years that passed he prepared this place

Where green stretches on and oceans were no more

The light was cosmic but only love lit their face

They stared deep as their hearts began to soar

He pointed to the tree and said now you must eat

Choose you must, I cannot decide for you

He warned you must not take your eyes off of me

So she stood weak and frail to gain this life filled fruit

The decision was in her as her ancient frame made a groan

To be loved forever or to be forever deadly alone.

Isaiah 53

Recalibrated

By who has our message been believed?

God revealed his arm but who perceived?

For he grew up before him like a tender shoot;

Out of the parched ground like a root.

He has no stately form or majesty,

That we should look upon him admirably.

He had no appearance for us to see

That we would be captured visually.

He was despised and by men forsaken,

A man of sorrows and the hand of grief he has shaken.

And like one from who men hide their face

He was despised, and with no esteem, disgraced.

Surely our grief he himself bore,

As for our sorrow it was us he carried it for.

Yet we ourselves esteemed him stricken,

Afflicted, and by the hand of God, smitten.

But for our transgressions he was pierced through,

And for out iniquities he was crushed too.

It was on him the chastening for our well-being fell,

And by his scourging we are made well.

All of us like sheep have gone astray,

Each of us has turned to his own way.

But as for all of our rebellious sin

God has caused it  to fall on him.

He was oppressed, and was afflicted.

Yet all speech from his mouth he restricted.

Like a lamb led to slaughter or a silent sheep before shears

He did not open his mouth, no words could you hear

By oppression and judgment he was taken away

There was not one consideration from the generation of his day.

That he was cut off from the land of the living,

For the sins of my people to whom the stroke should have been given.

His grave was assigned and with wicked men he would lie.

Yet he was with a rich man the hour that he did die.

Never had his hands shed blood or done any violent act

Nor from his lips did he ever any deceit intact.

But the Lord was please to crush him and cause him such pain

If he would freely present himself, a guilt offering would be gained

He will see his offspring and his days God prolongs

And the good will of the Lord will prosper in his palms.

As a result of the anguish of his soul,

He will see the light of life and be satisfied in whole.

By his knowledge, my righteous servant will justify many,

And he will surely bear the multitude of their iniquity.

Therefore a portion among the great I allot for him to abide,

And with the strong the spoils he will divide.

Because he poured out his life and welcomed death in

And he was numbered with those of the greatest sin.

For he carried the weight of man’s transgressions

And made for the transgressors, intercession.

Just a little story

I was going to visit my home town of Kilgore a while back. My little brother still lives in Kilgore and is a full time musician. Sometimes that life is hard to make money at. We were hanging out the fist night I was in town. On my way to go pick him up I grabbed a couple of guitars before I left the house. When I picked him up I told him to grab a guitar so we could go up to Starbucks and play a little in hopes of making a little money. The plan was to set the guitar case in front of us and leave it open while we played. To prime the donation pump he put a few dollars of his own in the case when we got there. We began to play. We played for about an hour and a half before we started running out of songs. It was fun because there was a table over to our right that was full of girls who were singing along and requesting songs. There was a table to our left of people that were all there with us. We began to run out of songs to sing. As a joke we, started to sing Disney songs like, “I can show you the world, shinning shimmering splendid,” and, “It’s just the bear necessities, Mother nature’s recipes.” There was a third table sitting across from where we were that did not seem quite as into the music as the rest. They were a gang of bikers. Now when I say bikers I don’t mean in shape, self disciplined long distance bicyclers. I mean a group of gangly, overweight, bearded motorcycle bickers. I guess I don’t exactly understand the tough guy image mixed with the artsy feel of a Starbucks porch. On the second verse of one of our Aladdin songs one of the larger bikers stood to his feet and went inside. He had one of the Osama Ben Ladin beards, and he was wearing all black.  It was not long before he was back at the table in front of us. It was also not long before the manager of Starbucks came out to inform us that we needed to stop playing. She told us that some customers had complained that they could not hear each other talk because of our music. We reluctantly began to pack up our guitars. I whispered to my brother, “they could have just told us to stop; they didn’t need to get the manager.” Well, my brother apparently thought this was a very valid point. He basically shouted, “Hey! Whoever went to get the manager could have just asked us, that would be the mature thing to do!” That moment of tension passed leaving us unscathed but the next would not leave us so lucky. I should have kept my mouth, knowing that my brother would repeat anything I said. I whispered to him that the mufflers of the passing cars where way louder than our guitars. This was in fact true, much of the time I could not even hear my own guitar because of how loud the passing vehicles were. Again my brother thought this was a solid argument; too good of an argument in fact to leave it unsaid. He stood and voluminously proclaimed to the manager, “Maim could you tell the BIKERS to keep their motorcycles turned off because I can’t hear my friends talk!” Whether this was a quality point or not, it was not nearly quality enough to keep the six foot five inch biker in his seat. He weighed in at about 285 pounds, which happens to be more than my and my brother’s weight combined. He stood with an angry shout. A string of profanity as long as his white beard flowed from his mouth like air born sewage. He walked over and towered over the both of us as he shouted at my brother about how his music was running people off. Now that I think about it the irony is obvious, Disney music meets Hell’s angels. As he shouted at my brother I stood quickly to my feet. I cut in with a bold, “Hey man, you need to calm down.” He turned to me, pointed the ominous two fingers in my face and said, “SHUT UP!” He then turned back to my brother and tore back into him. I was very proud of my brother because in the past his temper has been a very uncontrollable thing. In this case, however, all he did was look the big sweaty man beast in the eye and calmly say, “I would think that at your age you would be much more mature than this.” My brother then turned to walk away. Gorilla man continued to follow with his expletives preceding his every step. I followed, not willing to watch my brother be badgered into a fight. I kept talking to the guy telling him to settle down with my assertive voice. This apparently did not make him feel warm and fuzzy. In fact, I think he thought I was trying to corner him because he turned like a 50 year old bolt of lightning and wrapped his sweaty palms around my throat. He began to apply pressure. I’ve been told this is called choking. He squeezed for a second before I even understood what was going on. I quickly grabbed his wrists and removed them from my throat. I’m not actually sure how much force this required but I was willing to allocate as much strength as I had to extirpate my esophagus from his grip. He kept screaming as his two large sons sprung from their chairs and pulled him off of me. I called 911 and told them that I had been attacked on the Starbucks Porch by a very large bearded Harley Davidson Gang member because I was Playing Disney songs.

How does this interpretation of these verses compare with what you had thought they meant? (Hot and Cold)

Do you agree or disagree?

What would this mean for us when we try to live out this these verses?

Do you feel like your being hot or cold (effective) for the Kingdom?

What do you think that you could be doing better?

Answered prayer?

Prayer requests?