A Song To Time

“The Wheel of Time” by Cris Ortega

I write and I rewrite my song to beautiful Time,
Moment by moment.

Seeking not to waste her fleeting love,
I almost capture her essence,
Beat by beat,
But it slips away……
Breath by breath,
She steals the day,
And memories.

Never waits,
Precious, even in her arrogance,
Absconds with everything,
But is never caught in her cruel game.

Once, I held her elusive attention.
Once, I was able to hold her longer.
In elation, I was able to dance her
Fair into the night,
Bewitched by her deceitful spell,
And her flagrantly capricious charms,
Ignoring all the obvious alarms…….

Ahhh, but better choosings of late have left me
Fonder memories of her.
Fewer regrets.
Forgiven-ness wrenched
From her unforgiving airs.
Often, I am left with no regrets at all.

I write and I rewrite my song to her.
Moment by moment.
Even though she never loves for long,
And never, ever, stays……

Filed under: Christian Poetry, Christian Writing, Forgiveness, Metaphor Tagged: A Song To Time, beautiful Time, Cris Ortega, poetry about time ]]> http://gloryteller.com/2013/05/15/a-song-to-time/feed/ 0 gloryteller "The Wheel of Time" by Cris Ortega http://gloryteller.com/2013/05/11/your-daughter-my-mother-3/ http://gloryteller.com/2013/05/11/your-daughter-my-mother-3/#comments Sun, 12 May 2013 03:36:27 +0000 Gloryteller http://gloryteller.com/?p=2238 ]]> A slightly melancholy look at a child’s love.
A celebration for, and of, his mother.
A prayer for one whose presence was irreplaceable.
A prayer for one whose absence is always felt.
Love You, Mom.
Me

Your Daughter, My Mother

Dear Heavenly “Grand”-Father,

Many years ago; more than twenty-two,
You made Mom a place to live
When she went away
To live with You.
Would You go there today,
Right up to her house,
And give her, for me,
A nice new dress,
A flowery skirt,
A pretty blouse?
Would You give her
Nice-looking sandals,
Or some beautiful shoes?

Oh, Grandpa, today I’m getting the blues….

You chose her to bear me,
I was blessed from the start.
Please tell her I miss her.
We are too far apart.
Would You put a sparkling
Crown on her head?
Or just hold her hand?
Would You give her, today,
A big Daddy-hug?
The warmest kind as only You can?
And tell her that her prayers for me
Were answered by You,
And are being still,
To this very day.
Tell her I’m finally free.
I’m on Your Son’s path,
I’m following Your Way.
Maybe not all that she hoped
And she prayed, not  just yet,
But much closer, Grand-Daddy,
Much closer this day….

Today, she just seems
Much too far away….

All the time and the distance,
That pries us apart.
‘Spite life’s trials and resistance,
She’s still in my heart.
So thank her for me.
‘Cause it’s heavy to bear,
That it’s Mothers Day here and she’s way up there.
But tell her I will soon see her, perhaps!
Until then, maybe give her a dance.
Will you give her a flower?
Lord, give her a laugh.
Tell her I can hardly wait.
I’ll see her at the garden gate -
The one on the west,
When I finally come.

Meantime, Grandpa God, please give her my best.
Your best too, ’cause we love her,
‘Cause You hear all my prayers,
‘Cause You know who they’re from,
And just because she’s Your daughter,
And because she’s my mom!

^^^

<3

Oh, Heart,
is it happiness you seek?
Happiness highly desirable
yet dependent?
Elusive happiness?
Happy chasings of things outside yourself?
Oh, frivolous pursuit!
Oh, Fleeting Fates!
Oh, Fickle Muses!
Oh, changing time and seasons!
Oh, whims and peculiarities of others.
Oh, Heart!

The perhaps, the unhaps.
To erase,
to replace the UN.
Happy-chance relies on happenstance.
The right things need to HAPPEN,
oh, Heart,
for happiness to come.
Aye, to come, yet it so quickly goes.
It often flees and will not stay in permanence
because something else happened
unforeseen,
or didn’t,
or someone loved,
or did not,
or quit,
or gave up,
or did not last,
or passed.
*
But,
Oh, Heart!
Have you considered Joy?
Joy is different.
It’s beyond definition, although the world tries to define it,
confine it,
call it an emotion.
The world calls it synonymous with happiness,
But it is far from the same.
Joy is elementally incomprehensible if you don’t have it.
Oh, Extreme,
Oh, Deep,
Oh, Profound,
Utterly overwhelming at times,
but not captive of time,
nor whims of others,
nor Fates and Muses,
nor the chase, nor bruises,
save the Great Chase of Christ,
oh, Heart,
when you slow, and turn,
and let Him catch your tattered strings,
and you let Him in,
and you see, and touch, and savor
His Joy,
and suddenly it is yours,
Oh, Heart!
Oh, Abiding gift!

Is it, then, Joy you might seek?
Joy so independent of what has happened,
is happening,
will happen?
Joy in knowing,
in enjoying a walk with Jesus,
joining with Jesus,
rejoicing in Jesus?
Great delight,
rich fullness,
exceeding gladness, oh, Heart?
Inside your own walls!
Happiness multiplied X times!

To have happiness and Joy together,
oh, Heart, is a precious gift.
But, take heart,
joy persists even in sadness.
No one can steal your Joy
unless you let it be taken.
There is unhappiness
But there is no unjoy,
Joy wells up from deep inside,
Overflows to the outside,
is a living, life-giving, sustaining thing;
is abundant, noticeable, contagious,
is independent of external forces.

As happiness is precarious,
Joy is precise.

As happiness happens to you,
Joy jumps with you.

“Happiness” is referred to about 30 times in the Bible
while “Joy” occurs about 300 times!

Happiness runs through your fingers the harder you try to hold it.
Joy wells up, overflows cupped hands,
and is unlimited at its source.

Oh, Heart!
Let the Lord  remake you to contain
even a small grain of  the Joy in His glory.

Happiness comes from what happens, oh, my Heart,
Joy comes from Jesus!

*

Listen, Oh, Heart!
Happiness flows in and flows away.
No one knows if it might stay.
But Joy!
Joy, oh Heart, ever bubbles from its Source.
Welling up endlessly, any time of day.
Happiness depends.
But because He lives in you,
Oh, Heart,
Your Joy will never end.

^^^

© 4-29-13 Gloryteller L. S.

^^^

A GPS plays a special role while traveling strange roads.  It tells us where we are, where to turn to reach our destination, how far we have come, how far we have yet to go, what the speed limit is, and where the landmarks, restaurants, and gas stations are.  It keeps us from getting lost!  It also increases our overall understanding of areas unfamiliar to us.  A GPS can greatly enhance the enjoyment of a trip.

It occurred to me that I, as a writer (and we writers, collectively), have a special role, since our craft is expressed through use of our language.    It matters how we use our GPS……..  GPS?  I see the questions in your eyes.

Grammar, Punctuation, and Spelling! 

GPS!

It’s a matter of words – how we string them together in a proper, coherent manner into phrases and sentences.

G,P, and S are our tools -  the paint on our canvasses which color our written thoughts.

They are the instruments by which we give tone and texture, pitch and resonance to the songs of our printed voices.

They are the rich furnishings that embellish an empty house (page) and transform it into a home (page).

Without the order furnished by the use of good grammar, punctuation, and spelling, (and, here, I must add vocabulary) there is confusion and chaos.  There is reader discomfort.  Instead of the stream flowing smoothly, their canoes encounter obstacles which impede progress.  Instead of the intended float-trip through a beautiful landscape of understanding, there is a laborious detour through a swamp of lost meaning.

Today our language, (both the written and the spoken) is under attack by laziness, carelessness, apathy, ignorance, and lack of meaningful use by the general public. It seems few people actually care anymore about The Queen’s English  (meaning the standard, correct, conventional, most easily-understood-worldwide form of the language).  It is dying a slow death – even in the “media” – even in schools.  Our language is undergoing a deliberate “dumbing down”.  It seems to me that bad grammar, punctuation, spelling, and vocabulary are somehow becoming more socially acceptable to many people than good grammar, punctuation, spelling, and vocabulary.  To me, that is a very sad circumstance.  The consequences are tangible, for example, when thousands of job applications are rejected for not having been written properly.  It is essential to be able to express one’s thoughts and ideas clearly, concisely, and in an intelligent manner.

As writers, we find ourselves in a unique position.  We have a responsibility, and an obligation to make proper use of our language, not only for our readers’ benefit, and our own benefit, but for the benefit of the English language itself, and Society itself.

I must now state that I am not a journalist, nor an English major.  I’ve never had a creative writing course; the way I write is God-given.  All my knowledge of reading and writing came from grades one through twelve in public school, way back when “reading, writing, and ‘rithmetic” were considered very important, and were taught classically.  There was no “dumbing down” back then, only “smartening up”.  That being said, this post may still contain some GPS errors, but it’s not for lack of trying, and it’s not for lack of caring about English.  I’m no expert, but whatever my shortcomings, I’m still a writer.  Writing is my passion, my delight, and, most importantly, my calling.

As writers, we find ourselves the appointed guardians, supporters, and defenders of  The Language, and not only our language but God’s language;  His words.  HIS WORD.   Writers and readers alike should gain proficiency in GPS and vocabulary, especially if they happen to be reading or writing about The Bible, God’s people, or King Jesus, The Word of God, Himself.

^^^^^

To my friend who is an atheist:

I used to think somewhat as you do, so I know something of  “where you are”.
“Late in life”, I discovered something that “works” infinitely better.
It is said that those who dance are considered insane by someone who doesn’t hear the music. 
Like many older men and women who were, unlike me, actually brilliant and talented,
I began to hear The Music.  It became clearer, and then it began to move my limbs.
It’s like not being able to hear a dog-whistle, but you can tell that a dog does, because you can see its reaction when it is used.
God’s music is like that, and what complete and utter JOY there is in dancing to it!
My hope is that you will hear it, whether it begins faintly or thunders suddenly.
Whether in a voice,  a birdsong, an orchestra, windchimes, or simply an inner tune that won’t be denied.
Once you hear the pureness, the truth, in its melody, you will know what I mean, and your heart will begin its joyful dance.

Love to you.
Always.
Gloryteller

^^^^^^^^^

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Aslan and Friends

A tiger cannot change its stripes,
Nor leopard change its spots,
 And no man sets himself aright;
Heart-changes are God’s lot.

^  ^  ^

Who has not said
“I love you“,

But later said
“I’ve changed my mind.”

“You liar; you lied!”

“I never did; I meant it at the time.”

A lie
lies
In the reddened eye
Of the beholder.

A lie
Lies ancient  in
A liar’s blackened heart.

A lie may be admitted,
Explained away, or hidden,
But love is not like that.
Love can’t lie.

He Colored My World — I Wrote Some Blues

Copyright  ©  LS  Gloryteller 4-12-2013

Oh, the poetic beauty of country life.
If I had slept ten thousand nights,
I could not have dreamed the like
Of birdsong sounds,
Of visual delights.

I “love” mountains and I “love” The Mountains.

(I’m using quotation marks because I’m trying to teach myself to use the words “love” and “hate” appropriately, that is to save them for situations in which their true meaning applies)

What I really mean to say is that I like mountains intensely.  In my book, one can only love living entities that one can have some sort of relationship with, like God (especially Him), a person, or perhaps a pet.  Of course the words love and hate can be used metaphorically and that’s the way they are most often used.  You hear it umpteen-zillion times a day. (Wink) I, myself, hate that.  Oops, I dislike that.  It is so common we don’t even notice the frequency of “I love it when”…., or, “I hate it when”. It’s annoying when I hear “I just love your hair, and that purse, I just love that, that’s to die for!”. We all do it, but how did we get so far from the true usage?   Love God with everything you’ve got.  Love your neighbor as yourself.  That’s a tall enough order for the word “love”. Hate the sin, love the sinner! Another mighty tall order, yet, in those two sentences are found the true meaning and usefulness of the words love and hate.

I’ve gotten slightly off the trail. Let’s get back on it: If there were inanimate objects I could love, however, they would be “the mountains”.  I have had, and am having, some wonderful real and metaphorical relationships with them, a few notable individual mountains in particular. If I had a “bucket list”, being in the mountains would be on it right after being with my people.

Mountains have real and metaphoric value in my life because they emphasize several opposing concepts:

Ascending and descending.
Higher and lower.
Danger and safety.
Climbing and falling.
Struggle and peace.
Beauty and desolation.
Heaven and Earth.
Spirit and flesh.
Good and evil.
And the awareness of the proximity of life and death.

I could expand this list almost endlessly, but you get the point.

Recently, the subject of death has been on my mind. My post, http://gloryteller.com/2013/03/25/one-last-mountain/,  uses ascending a mountain as a metaphor for death.  Perhaps it will become more than a metaphor.  Perhaps I will “meet Death” on the slopes of a real mountain. Most likely it will be a metaphoric mountain that will claim my bodily life.

When I was transformed into a believer, my many and various fears were either taken away completely or were significantly diminished. My almost obsessive fear of death was one that was removed. All that is left is the natural, instinctive, compulsion to preserve my bodily life. Death, to me, is the necessary step I must take to reach Paradise, Heaven, and eternal life in the presence of my Lord and my Heavenly Father. Yet, it dawned on me that perhaps I’m taking death too lightly. Is it really a natural part of life? Is there nothing that can be done about it? If it is normal and natural, should anything be “done” about it?

I subscribe to the school of thought that death is a corruption thrust into a creation that was perfect before selfishness turned into sinfulness and spoiled the whole plan. I also believe that there is something that should be, and can be, done about death, and that is to believe, and believe in the Savior, who was sent to vanquish it. Death is the consequence of our sinful nature, but He accepted true death in our places, so that we would not have to face the permanent consequences of our selfishness. Jesus defeated selfishness with selflessness! Everything that should and could be done about the problem of death has already been done! Problem solved! Done! Over! Finished! But only for believers in the One who did it perfectly and died for it perfectly! (I’ll leave it to you to discern and comprehend the larger, more complex, concept of death beyond the relatively simple death of a body.)

So, that being said, perhaps I still don’t really know enough about death, nor the process through which it will take me. Perhaps when the moment comes, I’ll be unprepared and I might succumb to fear, or find out that everything I thought I knew was wrong. It only happens once, and, although there are those who claim to have returned to their bodies, or returned from Heaven or Hell after they died, I suspect that death is an individually unique occurrence to which the testimonies of others have little value. There is only one person I personally know who has returned from death – my Lord and Savior, Jesus. I only trust what He said about it. That is recorded in the New Testament.

To climb a mountain, it is vital to be prepared. It’s interesting that the word “vital” comes from Latin roots meaning “relating to life, or the quality of being alive”. In my case, it means being able to preserve my life and my ability to stay alive throughout the whole journey; until the adventure is completed. I must pack the essential food, water clothing, and first aid supplies. I must have a map of the area and the route to the top either in my “head” or in my pack. I must be in good physical condition. I must have a positive mental attitude. I must have skills and knowledge, and be able to use them wisely. I must read extensively about the subject. I also must know how to pray and talk to the only One who will be my companion all the way. There will be only one chance to “get it right”.

Preparing to summit a mountain is like anticipating both bodily and metaphysical death – knowledge about what will kill you, makes you stronger. The stronger you are, the more likely a good outcome. The Bible says every person will die, then live again in an eternal body. The only question is “ which of two eternal ‘places’ will a person exist in after that”. I choose life – abundant life – with God.

Yes, that metaphoric mountain rises before me, and yes, evil will stalk me all the way up, but, before me, Jesus walked, and fell, and died, and lived again on that final mountain so that I would need to fear no evil; so that I would not have to fall, and break, and die before reaching the summit. His Spirit will accompany me and I will rely on His strength as I get weaker on my journey to the top, where He, Himself, awaits my arrival. From this land’s end until The Endless Land, I will trust God and believe in The Son of Man, and that not a moment too soon, for now, day breaks the gloom of night, and I can begin to see my humbling,        huge,        sobering,         mysterious,       towering,        massif on the horizon.

^^^

Filed under: Allegory, Belief in God, Bible, Christ, Christian Writing, Christianity, Comparison, Creation, Evangelism, Faith, Gifts of the Holy Spirit, God, God's Glory, God's Love, God's Promises, God's Provision, Good News, Gospel, Holy Spirit, Hope, Inspirational Writing, Jesus, Jesus Christ, Life, Metaphor, Personal Testimony, Redemption, Resurrection, Salvation, Worship Tagged: being prepared for death, christianity, death, God, Jesus, learning about death, Lord, Metaphor, Mountain, Sin, Thinking about death, what is death ]]> http://gloryteller.com/2013/04/04/metaphor-mountain/feed/ 4 gloryteller http://gloryteller.com/2013/04/04/one-last-mountain-2/ http://gloryteller.com/2013/04/04/one-last-mountain-2/#comments Thu, 04 Apr 2013 13:58:19 +0000 Gloryteller http://gloryteller.com/?p=2139 ]]>

One Last Mountain

painting by John McNaughton

Re-posted for R. L.,  a dedicated reader who liked the way this format “walks” across the page.
It’s actually a quirky glitch in the WordPress transposition of the way I really wanted it displayed.

I only recent conquered one
Not so distant past
But each peak now seems harder than
Was climbing up the last

           Perhaps I’m almost finished
My climber says I’m not
My will is not diminished
My body not quite shot

                      But one can hardly ever tell
When one’s nice trail will end
What waits beyond horizon’s hill
Or ’round next river bend

                                 And there will be that one higher
More fright’ning to attempt
Looming there one last hard climb
Where no one is exempt

                                              Daunting doubts I reckon
Uncertain and unknown
Cold airless shadows beckon
To scale it all alone

                                                          You fool you will not be alone
The trail well-marked and lit
The crags will have beginner’s holds
You surely will not slip

                                                                       Up toward my final peak
The one on which I’ll stay
I’ll wait until He finally speaks
Then lifts my soul away

                                                                                   Thus will it be that in the end
I’ll rest there where He Is
In the beauty of the Endless Land
With Him and all of His

I AM an artist who has a painting inside,
Begging its colors be seen.

I AM a sculptor who has a statue inside,
Screaming to take form in stone.

I AM a singer who has a song in me,
Shouting to be given a voice.

I AM a songwriter who has a streaming score of notes in me,
Imploring that I arrange them into music.

I AM a minister with a message that wants out,
Pleading to be given life.

I AM an actor with the line of a lifetime,
Prompting me incessantly to be delivered.

I AM a poet, an epic verse within,
Oh, how it longs for its flight into the world.

I AM all the above and too many more to name,
Having gifts within to be shared and un-contained.
Too full!
Alas, it is a cloying form of cruelty,
A pretty kind of pain.

I AM
All the above,
For Real and in Figure,
I AM a writer with untold stories stewing,
Steaming, brewing,
Lines and verses,
Of characters, and plots, and loves, and loss, and joy,
And glories
Ready to burst forth from my heart, and chest, and breath, and pen.

Only a writer could know…..
Especially,
A Writer like God……

Rejoice! Rejoice! With All Your Might, Rejoice!

Hardly a day goes by that I don’t think, in some way, about Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection.
Today is no different.
But wait, it is different, for today is the church’s official celebration of that creation-changing, world-changing, life-changing Day.
Today, let there be loud singing and joyous dancing.
Let there be massive celebration over all the Earth,  for our Jesus is alive!
Let there be all of that but, most importantly,
let Him be the Lord of your life.

Rejoice, My Soul – All People, Rejoice!

I celebrate this holiest
Of all the days of holiness,
For as the sun appears to rise in the East,
The Son of God did arise
On Easter – Resurrection Day,
The greatest Day the Lord Has Made.
I rejoice and I am exceedingly glad in it,
For my Savior lives!
Oh, Lord, He lives!
Now and forever, He lives!
And because He lives,
So can I!
For my heart, too, was sealed
With hardened stone,
And in that darkened tomb
Dwelt death.
With tender touch He moved
The hardened part away
To let in light and life
So death was put to death.
The Holy Spirit Jesus sent
Was sent to live in me.
As Christ began to breathe again
I felt my spirit leap.
It leapeth still in Heaven’s realm,
So graciously removed from hell
That I can only raise my hands and say,
“Rejoice, all people, rejoice!
Hallelujah, praise God, rejoice!”
For our Savior lives and breathes in us!
He arose!
He conquered bitter death and saved!
He does that still, today!

With love,
Your Gloryteller

 Resurrection Sunday,  3-31-2013

Good Friday
The Expense of Safety

The ferry to safety was ready to depart.
Special admission only.
One ticket stand.
I had not the standing,
Nor the price of admission.
I stood forlorn in fear,
I would be tortured and killed.
Then a Man stepped up.
He gave me His ticket with a smile.
He paid my price.
I stood astonished,
Forgetting even to thank Him,
As they cruelly beat Him down,
Dragged Him away
To what fate I couldn’t know,
Didn’t want to guess.
In horror, I watched
As I walked backward
And stepped onto the boat.

One Last Mountain

painting by John McNaughton

I only recent conquered one
Not so distant past
But each peak now seems harder than
Was climbing up the last

I’m walking so much older now
Much slower than before
It’s time to lay some burdens down
And shoulder them no more

 Perhaps I’m almost finished
My climber says I’m not
My will is not diminished
My body not quite shot

 But one can hardly ever tell
When one’s nice trail will end
What waits beyond horizon’s hill
Or ’round next river bend

And there will be that one higher
More fright’ning to attempt
Looming there one last hard climb
Where no one is exempt

Daunting doubts I reckon
Uncertain and unknown
Cold airless shadows beckon
To scale it all alone

You fool you will not be alone
The trail well-marked and lit
The crags will have beginner’s holds
You surely will not slip

Up toward my final peak
The one on which I’ll stay
I’ll wait until He finally speaks
Then lifts my soul away

Thus will it be that in the end
I’ll rest there where He Is
In the beauty of the Endless Land
With Him and all of His

Meet Xian (Christian), Part II

Well, you can’t win them all (said anyone who has written a blog).
My post ( http://gloryteller.com/2013/03/07/meet-xian/) about the genesis of my “Xian” (Christian) character, a.k.a. “Chi” was a big flop. I don’t think anyone even read it, let alone liked, rated or commented on it.
That’s life!
However, I’m not one to give up, even when giving up might seem the prudent-est course.

Perhaps it seemed childish, superfluous, or irrelevant, but I like to branch-out; to write in different styles about different subject matter.  It keeps me flexible, keeps me thinking, helps me focus, helps my creativity, keeps me growing as a writer.  I could go on, but I might get boring.  That’s one thing I don’t want to be, for that would dishonor the One I write for, Who is never boring, always exciting, always awe-inspiring, always creative, and in Whom there is never a dull moment!

So!  There’s more to Chi (and that rhymes with my guy) than meets the eye:

Chiasmus

Chiasmus is a literary figure of speech (and how I love a good figure of speech) in which two or more clauses are related to each other through a reversal of structures in order to make a larger point.  Chiasmus means, in Greek, “to shape like the letter X,* thus the sentence structure looks like this: When read left to right, up to down, the first topic (A) is reiterated as the last, and the middle concept (B) appears twice in succession (Also, the middle concept could appear just once).*
I will try to give you an example:
“I don’t want the symbol ‘Xian’ to be boring, to keep ‘Xian’ interesting is my aim.”

Many long, complex chiasms can be found in Shakespeare and in Greek and Hebrew texts of the Bible.  You knew I would get around to The Bible didn’t you!    I was amazed when I noticed how many ways my study of the letter Chi led me to connections with Scripture.  First, the chiastic pattern shown above is well known as the “criss-cross“  pattern.  The apostle Peter was martyred on an X-shaped cross.  “X” also invokes to me the shape of the cross of Jesus.
Second, the chiastic pattern is also known as the A-B-B-A pattern.  ABBA!  One of the most dear names of God, ABBA is Aramaic for “the Father”, and arguably, is Hebrew for “Daddy”.  It was used as an intimate, yet respectful way to address one’s father, and in a very special sense, one’s Heavenly Father.

The classic Scriptural chiasmic ABBA structure is from Matthew 19:30 wherein Jesus says, “But many who are first shall be last; and the last shall be first.”  

Finally, I say that not only is Xian a most interesting little “guy”, but delving further into “his” origins has yielded a wealth of interconnected knowledge, knowledge which touches the very origins of my faith,  all begun by a little drawing of a “guy” I call Xian (Christian).

Did you see what I did there? 

*From Wikipedia

Kneeling Among The Perhaps

She kneels alone in her garden as if in prayer
Carefully pulling each weed before it can thrive
Before it can multiply and hinder her berry crop

She looks up at the cloudy March sky in hope

Perhaps this month
This year
Perhaps this very day

She bows her head and notices
One of the weeds offers a flower
Shivering quickly side to side in the cold breeze
Like an offering in pink and white
Like a sign of something obscure

She kneels in her garden
And for the first time this season
She smiles

He has shown up twice in my latest posts.
Who is he?
Readers, meet Xian.

This is his story:

When I first started reading Christian-oriented material, “Our Daily Bread”, for example, I used symbols to mark and highlight passages that were important and inspiring.  I used the five-pointed star: It is easy to draw without lifting the pen, but it has pagan connotations, so I went to the six-pointed star:

Two triangles, voila – a Star of David.  But that takes a little too much time to draw, so I went to the asterisk:Three quick, simple lines that intersect.  My ODB, and books, and Bible are full of them.  However, for some reason, (who can explain ME) I recently began to take the X out of the aster, and just use that.  I may well have been led to do it:So there it is. X .

You knew I would get around to this, didn’t you…..I began to think about how the X in Xmas stands for Christ.  I found that the X is actually Chi, the first letter in the Greek word, Χριστος.  I hope I got that right, because, hey, it’s Greek!  Anyway, that Greek word means Christos – the anointed One – which is a translation of the Hebrew “Messiah”.    The X in Xmas is derived from the Chi (pronounced “Ki” which rhymes with “my”, or “guy”) in this word: Χριστος.  X came to denote “Christ” sometime in the sixteenth century.  Xmas is often misinterpreted as a modern secularization of “Christmas”, thinking that it is an attempt to remove religion from the holiday.  If it is, it has backfired!   “Xian” has been used as an abbreviation for “Christian”, as well.  These are merely abbreviations, not to be used in formal writing, and words are symbols, so maybe it is much ado about nothing, but the things words stand for, especially when they stand for people, and God, and Godly concepts, are important.  But I diverge.

One morning, I looked at the X and saw a figure with hands raised.  I don’t know what made me put a head on it, but that’s what I did.  A trinity of lines.

It came to life!  Xian was born!  (You can surely tell that art comes naturally for me).
Xian has since become just slightly more than a symbol to me, more than a stick man.  He is naturally worshipful.  You can see how he surrenders his all to the Almighty.  His hands are raised in surrender and praise.  He somehow expresses “giving glory to God in the highest”.  Sometimes I call him “Chi – my kind of guy”.   Three simple lines with a lot of heart.

My Father

Oh, my Father-God and my Lord, Who walks the vast halls of Heaven,
Where You live, and breathe, and reign sovereign
Over everything finite and eternal.
From where You speak,
From where You write Your Word,
From where You see all, know all, and do all,
From where You give Your unfathomable grace,
Your mercy, and forgiveness,
From where You open Your hands and pour out goodness,
And from where You sent Your Love Incarnate, Immanuel.

Your name is Holy.
Let me kneel humbly, respectfully,
In reverence to Your glorious name.

May Your kingdom, Your realm, be established,
May Your kingship be proclaimed,
May everything You desire to happen
Be done here on Earth, just as it is in Heaven.

I ask that You continue to provide all I need
In the form of wholesome food and water to nourish my body,
As well as The Living Bread, and The Living Water,
And understanding of Your Word, with personal revelation,
To nourish my soul.

I ask that You help me remember how You paid my debts
On the horrible cross of torture.
How You took my sin upon Yourself, Jesus,
How You gave Yourself in propitiating atonement, and in conciliation,
And appeasement, for my trespasses against You, Father-God.
Help me Lord to continue to learn to forgive others their debts against me,
Their trespasses, wrongs, crimes, and sins against me,
Just as You have so mercifully and graciously forgiven mine through Christ.

I ask You, Lord, to lead me away from the temptations of this world.
Help me keep your Word, Your principles, in obedience.
Lead me through the minefields, the snares, and the pitfalls,
For they are many, and my enemy shows me only the bait,
But hides the trap well.
Protect and deliver me from that devil, from that evil one, in Jesus name!

And finally, Almighty Father, I want to proclaim Your Kingdom.
It is the Kingdom of kingdoms, and You are the King of kings!

I proclaim that Your power is absolute.  It is the power that created
Beautiful Creation in its entire completeness.
It is the power to create human beings in Your image,
Human minds, souls, and hearts.
It is the awe-inspiring, miraculous power to change those hearts,
And save those souls.

And, I proclaim Your Glory, Lord.
How can I explain Your Glory?
It is too beautiful, too splendidly colorful, too exquisitely bright!
It blinds my eyes, baffles my mind, closes my mouth.
It is love unleashed, fervent, and intense.
It is Your inexplicable mercy, and grace, and kindness, and generosity.
It is as inexplicable as You, my God.
You’re glorious in Your Glory.
You ARE the Most High Lord,  Holiness Itself, Ancient of Days, The Great I AM.

Yes, Yours is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory,
For all time, and through unfathomable eternity.
You are my ABBA, my Heavenly Father-God to Whom I pray this prayer.
In Jesus’ most holy name.
Amen, and Amen.

A Writer’s Prayer

“Lord, inspire me.”

Yes, that’s it.
Short prayers that speak volumes are best for me,
And He has never failed to answer in volumes.