The Island of Runaground

Battered by the storms of life, she sought refuge under a log that had drifted ashore. The boat had gone down under the intense pounding of the waves against the hull of her hard head. She was going to do it ‘her way’. And, so it was. She did. Without listening to others, she sculpted her future, her figure and her career. Beautiful, yet not adored; Adorned yet untrue set on a mission of success built from mental strain and determination, she pushed the mentally fragile ones aside, refusing to allow their intrusion into her thoughts. With steel eyes and a hardened heart, she pushed aside emotion laughing at reproach. She was right; her life proved it was so. Setting sail alone; this fair weather queen adorned her own bow for there was no need for another. Everyone knows that a craft has but one bow needing to be adorned. She did it herself. She sailed up and down the coast keeping close in to shore to be sure to be noticed her time was all taken. 

“Surely,” she reasoned, “A tight schedule proves ones worth; therefore, I am valuable.”
So, she sailed. Back and forth year after year up and down the coastal waters rightly adorning her craft with herself. At first there were onlookers, gazing from ashore. Novelty demands attention. But, soon they were called to their own purpose and turned from hers. Ah, she stacked up fleeting moments one upon another; pressed into short relationships without depth. Together they almost mounted to something; yet in the rain of time they melted. 

Without an audience, who would dance? Without onlookers, why adorn yourself? If no one cares, why take the boat out at all? So she tied it to the dock in the fall and paid a mooring fee. For, who knows, perhaps she will be sailing again next season? There is a cost to being tied to a stable relationship. And, for a while, she paid it. 

But, when spring came and the flowers began to bloom, there was hope in the air. She went to the dock and visited her vessel. She buffed and waxed; contemplated and mulled ideas; to stay tied for another year or launch out once more. Surely there was some new audience that needed to recognize the beauty of her stature. Amidst fair weather, she set a course due East; fixing her gaze upon the horizon she sailed into unknown waters. Without a compass, she followed her reason. Without compassion for those she left behind, sailing away was easy. A hard heart can know no other because in order for a heart to connect to someone else it must be softened to have the strands intertwined with the other one. Hers was as a stone; she was used to tossing it into the boat whenever she desired; and sailing off into the wind of her whim. 

She ran aground at midnight at ‘who knows where’. How could she know? There was no compass and the lights had gone out long ago. Recognizing she was in a perilous position having the boat torn from asunder, she prepared to drown. Saying her prayers, and taking a final gasp of the night air, she jumped overboard. Her body prepared for the worst, she was surprised that the water was not cold, but warm. With plenty of air in her lungs it was a natural inclination to push off the bottom when her toes reached it with their extension. And, the push was just enough to bring her to the surface. Aha, what do you know? The shore was right there. Why would she opt to drown when she could swim ashore? Pride, remorse and refusal to face what she had turned her back on? Were they reasons enough to die? It was her choice; and, who would know? She could make it seem as though it was not her fault; being a victim of circumstances. After all, she was aground on a rock. The caption could read, “She went down between a rock and a hard place”.

Yet, she went ashore and hid from herself on an island in the middle of nowhere alone amidst the storm and buried her face in remorse hating herself for being who she was. The devil taunted her in the unmet dreams of her desire until the sun came up. 

Hearing a noise, she squinted her eyes to see a vision appearing in some distance and growing ever near. As much as she tried to hide her eyes; who can hide from a vision? The man with deep wrinkles in his face came right up to her and held out his hand. Without a word, she took it. He had no request from her. She could be anyone she wanted with him. So, she left her past behind and went fishing. Sure, the wreckage was in the distance, but neither of them mentioned it. 

And, the wreckage has become a breeding ground for new fish. So, the old man and the lost sailor dine and share with others on the Island of Runaground around the fires of delight in a place where the only expectation that they have from one another is being who they really are. 

[Excerpts from Living in the Haunted House of My Head].

Girl falls in love and becomes her lover’s secretary. Lover loves her even more. She falls more in love and makes a commitment to his purpose only to realize his purpose is to make her happy in every corner of her life. Girl is overwhelmed running into those arms and unable to love him the way he loves her. Her fear of loving that much disables her ability to love him. She holds her ground, plants her feet and will not move. She knows who she loves and she knows he loves her back; even before she tried to love him.

They call her crazy; she is not surprised. Because, in the awe of falling in love, a new world was opened up to her; it was a world of knowing who she is. This is a very scary option. Before this she formed her opinions based on what others told her and became very disappointed. They were cruel, selfish in motives using and disposing of her; for personal purposes, fleshly purposes, and to elevate their own status. 

They climbed on her back to get to the next level. In the process, her back and her heart were broken. So she closed it. 

Like a grocery store after hours; the front door to her heart closed and locked; bolted shut. 

Hear heart was sad because of the bolt. One after another she watched them come, try to open the door and walk away hanging their head dejected.

Then, down the alley, he came to empty the trash one day. It was the same day every week, so casual. Usually, it was a passing ‘hi’ and some small conversation. She found no value in this conversation; why should he? It was a Wednesday, like all the others, when he stopped, grabbed her trash and tossed it into the trash smasher truck then paused. 

With a hint of urgency amidst humble conditions, he looked straight at her, his gaze fixed on her beautiful face, and removed something from his pocket. Curiosity drew her closer, so she approached. His gray dungarees held a lingering smell of gear oil and his face was bristly. Yet his eyes were intense, and his purpose clear. 

He said, “Good morning, lovely lady. The other day I was walking along the beach and picked up a rock. Do you want to see it?”

His hand was already extended to her. Within the palm was a small rock. Of all the rocks on the beach, what made him select this one to carry in his pocket? 

Again, her curiosity drew her closer. She asked, “Why did you pick this rock? What is so special about it?”

“Oh, that is an easy question. I look for these types of rocks; any rock which is solid and has a stripe right through the center all the way around. It takes amazes me how much force it takes to have solid rock on one side and embedded other type of rock and again the same solid rock on the other side. Surely this rock has been held in the hand of the one who creates rocks. He held it so tightly for so long that a stripe became embedded. It is like a mother making meatballs with cheese inside. She makes the meat flattens out a small chunk and sets a square of cheese inside before rolling the rest into a ball. Surely God has held this rock in his hand. There is no other way a rock can get like this. When I find a rock like this, I am reminded of the incredible power of God to hold something so tiny in his hand for such a long time.” 

Crocodile tears began to roll down her face as she stood in the alley with the trash collector. He looked up from his focus on the rock held in his hand and became embarrassed, “Oh my. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I am sorry for your tears. Did I say too much?”

“No,” she said, “It’s a wonderful idea that God continues to hold that which is hardened by the world in his hand. I think it might be me.”

So, the trash collector invited her to ride with him some days going into alleys gathering trash. One at a time, he stopped at each trash can and tossed the contents of the can into the back of his truck. Occasionally people chatted with him. Usually, it was small chat on the fly. He gathered their trash and went on his way.

It’s true. 

We lock our heart to the world because they hurt and abuse us. But, God still comes by to collect our trash on a regular basis if we are willing to set it out. 

And, if we are willing to open the back door to the storehouse of our heart, He will spend time with us. Yet, we need to go to the place where the trash is picked up, throw out what doesn’t belong and let Him take it away. 

There are some, only a few, who are willing to take a chance to become friends with the trash collector. He collects trash…and he also collects rocks. He takes our sin away (in his big trash truck), and he holds our life in his handheld between a promise. We are a rock, and our hardened heart needs someone to hold it in their hand. 

God holds yesterday and tomorrow in his hand, and embedded with a stripe down the center is the eternal promise of His love.   

[Excerpts from Living in the Shadow of the Sins of Our Parents].

When we cast ourselves on Jesus,

We see Him in a whole new light.

We come on one train and bring a different vehicle out.

What we ride depends on our obedience.

And like pirates,

 we take booty from

The enemy and bring it back with us.

He will bring me as deep into the Holy Spirit as we I am

 willing to go.

I entered the water and followed the man, Jesus,

 down into the scope of His understanding.

I swam behind him, holding my breath,

Until we reached the bottom

 where there was only the old

 wreckage of my life.

He had left a tube to bring us

 air there so we took a breath.

I just followed.

After the breath, we went into the depth of the wreck

And He reclaimed those places of brokenness for Him.

Like recovering treasure, 

He helped me to recover

 things burned into my character.

Then we swam in to my life room by room

He helped me to reclaim the lost treasures within

 that previously, sunken vessel.

For I was at the bottom of the sea of His love.

And He helped me to remove the gold, 

silver, diamonds, gems, and treasures 

Of that pirate ship.

The enemy

 had bombed me long ago and I had dropped to the bottom.

Bow up and bow out.

Bow in and down you go.

Blub, blub, blub.

But, God showed me how to bow to Him.

Just stay at the bottom and swim apart.

He helped me to swim free of the pain and painful events

of my childhood.

Then, He gave me the gear to be able to swim back into 

the carnage. Carrying what I needed to survive.

And, He took my hand.

He became my dive partner.

Room by room, He came with me to help bring values back.

 when I surfaced He gave me a new life.

A new value. 

Much more simple.

It’s a row boat, with just two seats.

I sit in the rear and let Him do the rowing.

He likes to do the work. He says that he needs exercise.

And, I lean back against the stern and listen to His stories.

Then, just copy down what He says. 

[Excerpts from Living in the Shadow of the Sins of Our Parents].

Generational Curses and Sin

The past shadows the future in a world that is not round (with time) the shadow will never move and continue to shadow on and on. Satan works in the shadows. He can only shadow death, as it has been conquered. He shadows with fear, pain, and suffering. God shines his light on to dispel the shadows.

If we play in the dirt, we will find roots and a valley of bones. These are the sins of your forefathers. They need to come to life to project down to us. We can anticipate that our forefathers have continued to sin generation after generation, so what are we to do so that their sin does not effect us, now?

We need to clear up the whole line, starting from Jesus. He came to destroy sin, so we can call on his blood to help us with family curses and generational sin. Our deceased family is as a valley of bones. The spring of Jesus will give life to promises for healing all along the family lines.

There is a slippery slide of sinful behavior leading to captivity by the enemy. He tricks us and we slip, whole families, into sinful behavior. There is an area where people have a rock hanging over their heads because of the activity that their fore fathers have engaged in. Jesus holds each of us accountable for our own sinfulness, yet there is a problem with stuff rolling down hill toward us. It is the angels that hold back destruction of sin within our lives. 

What do we do? The Lord has instructed us to stay out of the shadows. We are to bring to light our own sins and seek forgiveness and healing from Jesus daily. Next, we need to bring our weapon against sin. The word of God is our weapon. It is a sword that is used against the enemy. It is a diamond tipped sword, not to be used to skewer him, but reflect the sin back on him. The diamond part is like a looking glass.

When we hold it up to the enemy, it reflects the judgment of God back onto his head. We fight the Devil by hiding behind the righteous skirts of Jesus, and poking our hand out just long enough to show the enemy the mirror, the word. 

When we pray the word, God judges him. We set Satan up against God, and take ourselves out of the middle. We hold the word of God and it works like blinding the enemy. It puts the sun in his eyes causing him to see the reflection of himself. The diamond tipped sword becomes a full length mirror to him as we hold it up. We elevate the presence of God within the situation and bring praise to Him. As we glorify God, the enemy will flee. 

Jeremiah 17.1, I Corinthians 9.24-27, Colossians 2.17

[Excerpts from Living in the Shadow of the Sins of Our Parents].

Blowing Sand

There are major changes coming. I would like to think we could do it with small ones, but that won’t be so. 

This is the end time. I get what I need from the gift shop. My sister is with me. I lend her money for food. It is a long trek with many steps for what we need. It’s not the same as before. It’s different. Changed, somehow. 

They put us in an upper room and we pick lounges. Then, they try to trick us. There is a fake air cleaner. It looks like a fan. They say it cleans, but when they turn it on, it blows dust. I cover my face, this time. I cover it ahead of time because I anticipate the air is going to fill with dust. I am not tricked. We’re smashed together as a group and given things that don’t work. We thought we were going to eat, but end up continuing to be hungry. Once again, my sister needs support. 

We are told to relax and everything will be cool. But, I know it will not be that way. Their idea of cool is to kick up a lot of our own dirt and throw it in our faces. That’s not cool.

So, I hide my face ahead of time. 

____________________________

Fractured as a Child

The parents don’t mean to, but sometimes they break the legs of their children. The children cry out, but no one understands because they are too young to know a language that their parent understands. 

So, the parent placates the child, and rather than fixing the problem, he ignores it. He pats the child and turns his back on him. He continues to carry him, but now his leg is fractured. No one knows the damage until later.

As children, sometimes we get caught in situations where we are severely injured. Our parents do not know how the situation has affected us. We are severely hurt and handicapped in our walk later in life because of it. They certainly had no intention of harming their own baby.  It just happened. It was an accident. 

[Excerpts from Living in the Shadow of the Sins of Our Parents].