This is not love…not the world’s definition.


Ah, this morning I drove to work, feeling cushioned by some strange other-world while listening to Imogen Heap. Her words often seem to say those thoughts I fear to muster. And then again, words seem so empty and coarse at times like these. How can any phrase emote the prayer of my heart along with the aching bubble that grows inside? Someday, I think it may pop, and I am uncertain what will splash my surroundings.

How does one explain this kind of living? It is rare to meet someone who doesn’t need explanation…and more often than not the assumptions people have about it are sorely shallow and quite frankly, the opposite of everything it has ever been or could be.

Of what do I speak? Even the one word I intended to answer this with seems too complex and misunderstood in our culture to use. (Love in our world has become too tart and quite conditional, therefore, I will not call it such.)

Of what do I speak, then?

I do not believe our language has a word or phrase that could ever thoroughly express it. Even physical gestures dumb it down.  Sometimes I sit at a piano and try to play it, but even in this, it becomes cliché.   Mere feeling or emotion strongly sours it, for our world seems to equate feeling with flesh.  I do not believe this is the case, but will not argue it.  That is another posting altogether. 

Somedays it sits in my throat as a hiccup that explodes sporadically.  Most days it is a leveled stream that follows the course of my blood.  However, on these last few days, it has been a breath held.   It is not removed, nor diminished.  It still moves with me, but waits for release.   It slows every thought and every motion.  It is somewhat pained.  It makes everything seem a bit like a dream from which I cannot awake. 

Self-removal is not possible.  Believe me, it has been attempted.  It is like cutting the very heart and brain out of your own skeleton. 

I pray not for the extinguishment of it, nor for the swift shift of it, for that would most likely bring death on both accounts.  Once this, whatever you prefer to call it, has been grafted into your bloodstream, the heart and mind learn to function with it, and it colors EVERYTHING.   No, I pray for God to stay with it, whatever the course…and if that God desires the course to end, he will replace it promptly, for how can one continue without some heart and mind…however they may function?  It has been in God’s care for years…I dare not defy His trust.

So, here I sit, breathless and prayerful.  I am tired from years of undue shame.  I am disgusted by labels that carry death.  I am offended and undone by labels that dilute this thing, this thing I hold dear.  I am livid that the deception of the Evil One has flavored my loved ones in such a way that purity is no longer seen as God is…for purity is an outpouring of our Creator.  Our flesh boxes up purity like it is some present to be unwrapped and then lost forever.  Oh, the deception here is great.

The kingdom is made up of this very thing that I cannot express.  And it pains me to have it refused.  It rocks my very core to have one think it impossible.  And to straight up block it makes me breathless.  

Perhaps no explanation is needed anymore.   Perhaps I should just swallow this bitter bubble until it hiccups again.  Then maybe the stream will begin to flow smoothly again.  Until then, I hold my breath and pray for release.  I scream without effect and cry without solace.  I quit words before they hit the air for fear of hindrance.  I regret that I have attempted to explain this away in the past, and regret more that I once bought the lie as well.  However, I do not regret this, for this is grace, purity, mercy, and creation alive in me.   What I desire is that this would be welcomed and embraced, and moreso, returned to me without regret, shame, or repression. 

I don’t know who reads my postings.  I’m not sure if anyone will stick with this long enough to take it in.  I strongly suspect it won’t make sense to most even if anyone does.  All I ask is that you make not an assumption based on worldly wisdom or speech.  If you desire to understand, ask the Lord.  For I am done making pointless speeches and needless excuses.


One thought on “This is not love…not the world’s definition.

  1. I am a new reader. You can blame Brody Harper. Todays entry was intense. I tend to ignore some of these diluted definitions. It seems them “norm” when it should not be the “norm”. Everyone wants to be so darned politically correct. Let’s not offend ANYONE. I imagine we are offending God by all of these individual uses of the very thing of which you speak. I will return to read & to listen to your music. You have a beautiful voice. Love the simplicity of your music. Thanks for todays blog.

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