Monday, September 26, 2011

Wooden Heart

We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living
and since that first breath... We’ll need grace that we’ve never given
I've been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts
and it's not only when these eyes are closed
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach,
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north,
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better
but it won’t won’t, at least I don’t believe it will...
so I've built a wooden heart inside this iron ship,
to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts.
don’t let these waves wash away your hopes
this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors
pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviours
but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board
washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it
but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts
we all have the same holes in our hearts...
everything falls apart at the exact same time
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step
but my fear is this prison... that I keep locked below the main deck
I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden
and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right
but they’re heavy and I’m awkward...always running out of fight
so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship
hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks
because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam
lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea
so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water
I wear this tide like loose skin, rock me to sea
if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together
and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep
all these machines will rust I promise, but we'll still be electric
shocking each other back to life
Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected
our bones grown together inside
our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided
our spines grown stronger in time
because are church is made out of shipwrecks
from every hull these rocks have claimed
but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change
so come on y'all and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

from Wooden Heart Poems, released 06 July 2010

Saturday, September 17, 2011


I just had this moment where my entire mind exploded with the fact that I know absolutely nothing.

Yep, so I'm reading this intensely interesting article on colonizing knowledge, on how the West sees everything they do as right and everything other cultures do as wrong. Even now, the West has so colonized places like South America, Africa, and parts of Asia that only people who think like 'Westerners' have valid ideas. For example, we all need a University education to be smart. And the BEST university education is in the West, at the 'Ivy League schools' of England and the US. And so... the most respected people in the world today generally have a western education.

But, in all seriousness, why is that? Isn't knowledge which is rooted in their own culture equally valid, equally important? And what makes 'empirical data' any more valid than 'qualitative data'? In many ways, the emotional, the parts of humanity that are immeasurable, are indeed more important than the number of toes I have. Yes, quantitative data has its place - we can look at how many people made x decision and then analyze that. But then again, have you ever asked them why they made x decision? I'm 100% sure that varies from person to person, and it's a great deal more revealing to search out the heart of the decision than the decision itself.

Anywho, all this to say that perhaps everything I've studied is just knowledge because some weirdo says it is. In all seriousness, whose to say that Western thought is the correct way of thinking? Perhaps my lens is fogged and seeing everything wrong. Whose to say I know anything at all - all but a to-be-achieved degree and a transcript that says I got x grade in y class. hrm.

Then again, maybe the only truth we can ever be sure of is that of which we are unsure.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Love that surpasses knowledge

To come to a full knowledge of the love of God is near impossible - I'm going to say, it is impossible.

And yet, I believe, there is a moment in everyone's life when this love finally hits them square in the eye. Like someone has stuck their hand in your chest and have started to squeeze your heart and make it beat again. It may not even be a full and complete version of God's love, but if even a spark of it hits you, it sets you on fire.

For me, it was this summer. I came back from University and literally felt dead in sin. I had entered the 'grey' area, only to find that in my search through the fog, I'd come out on another path. And while I didn't go all the way down, I sat on a log a ways down, waiting and seeing what might happen there.

It's funny though, how once you hit this place, how once you lose yourself and those values you once held dear, then you realize that the foggy place is caused by you. And when I finally realized that, it was like someone took a big wooden board and whacked me on the head with it. I fell down, had a massive headache, and then said, "Lord, I can't do it. I don't want to be on this log anymore. But I can't find my way back through the fog."

And, funny enough, Jesus found me. He didn't just call out to me, he came and grabbed my hand and took me back through.

Here's where the real kicker is: He loved me. He never lost his faith in me, he knew me and my heart, who I wanted to be and what my needs really were, whether or not I was willing to admit those to everyone around me. And then... he filled those voids in. He filled me up with himself. He whispered to me, "I love you. I want you."

And so there I was. Through the fog, on the clear path once again, holding the hand of someone who knew me and loved me so much that he came and met me exactly where I was at, pursued me, wooed me back to him, and married me. Ha, yes, I'm married to God. He calls me beloved, and here I am, the prostitute that loved the world and came wandering back to the only one that gave me anything of value. And now, I have experienced that spark. And I'm so on fire.

God brings us down to lowly places so that we can rise back up with wings. Never look for satisfaction in those worldly things that give happiness for but a moment - I've found it's better to suffer and be isolated and have this love that surpasses knowledge than to do anything that gets me popularity, success, or fame in this life.

Ephesians 3: 14-21