Love Never Fails

Love never fails.  Love never comes to an end. 

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Backdrop of the Battlefield

An old held-back post, or note to self in the blog files.  I must have been feeling the battle. 
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 Your life is not about any of this, Rhonda Michelle.  All of this only creates the backdrop to the battlefield for your soul and for the souls of others.  Your mortgage, the leak in your radiator, your family gatherings, your bank account, Christmas coming, your home, land, your debt, your cars and what is or isn't in your refrigerator are not what they may seem to be.  These are not just your life on a Wed. in 2014. They are only the backdrop to your real life.

Jesus prayed for you like this, ⁵ My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one.   We are meant to be here, but we need this prayer of Jesus to tread here because it is more than it seems. 
  

Jesus, our glorious man, is not recorded to have concerned Himself much with my list of things in above paragraph, as IF these were not the most important things in life?! What of that!?  If He didn't then why do I?  

  His hike into the wilderness was an epic battle with the devil during a 40 day fast.  All my hikes are to see beauty and gain strength. Most of my fasts are because I feel chubby. And when I kayak across the lake it is to feel something, see something and enjoy myself. But in 2014 I'm seeing them all in a different way; they are more.  All is more.

When Jesus skimmed the waters of the lake,  it was with eternal purposes in his heart.  Maybe the beauty of the sun glistening off of the water that day, and maybe there were fresh smells, the feel of the water between His fingers, the breeze and gentle waves making soft sounds against the boat. But He was going to command demons and set a chained man free. (Mark 5) He had the same sort of backdrop as me, but lived out of another dimension.  I want His dimension.

With  purpose He crossed from life over to death, and to life again to set many more free.  And He is pulling back the backdrop of my life so I can live like this glorious God-man.

A Song Sung Free

The big bird is the loudest on my farm.  He is rooster, hear him cockadoodle-do.  He is drawing in the morning air and thrusting out his morning song.  I like it. 

He has to.  Some instinct laid within his chest from the beginning assures that he will sing it up every morning where ever he is, whatever he is doing. I never doubt that he will sing.  "Someone" else chose for him to sing, and he ever will.

 But me, I am higher than him, created in a different order, from a different print.  Something distinct was laid within my chest from the beginning and I know it-- I can feel it. I can wield it, this something higher than instinct, this something royal and right, this autonomy tucked inside of me.  I am free to sing or not to. 


 But he is warming me up to the morning. Cockadoodle-do. He is unbolting a door, stirring up the choice in me.  The morning air seems delicious coming up through his jolly throat. But

let the lady-farmer sing a better song than him. Let morning air breath a higher word from me.  Let my choice charge the air with praise. Liberty makes my song so different than his, and heaven knows the sound of a song sung free.