God…. What’s going on right now on earth is chaotic and robotic; completely polluted the toxicities of a hypocrisy to talk a walk the blurred lines in bold coldness. I unilaterally kinetically stand alone unapologetically. I’m in the refusal to wear the death of a drone.
This delusion is a phony conclusion, posing as an inclusion to the cross lifted. In our flesh we silently confess, our inner core detesting the necessity of dark nights. Simon only became Peter through the dark nights. We fight to lie and die in flesh. The truth is Your Proof, that this aloof is an exclusion, birthing ghosts in our habitat. A cancerous host to the dilution in the mixed solution Jesus refused at the cross.
We are at a loss in translation of Our Dedication to Your Great Name. The world is playing lame.
We need you God. So desperately. The bold coldness is so suffocatingly isolating. Where’s the accountability of our rebuke in love? Where’s the biblical push to walk on the scripture power we are encouraged to memorize. satan knows the bible too, but like the world, it’s just inactive knowledge. There’s no push to walk the talk of the Holy Bible. There’s no white flag waving in surrender. Theres no repentance, where the old skin is dead in the water of our symbolic baptism of all things new. There’s deliverance in the hinderance called surrender. Instead, there’s bullets flying, and cold blooded murder. The definition of a martyr is blurred, with the potent scales prevailing, as these massive whales declaring; the consumption of your blind, weak chosen. We are paused on frozen.
We are living but not breathing. There’s a dangerous loop, in the horde troop of these galloped horses; stampeding through the bleeding of our weary hearts. Drifting even further apart. We are one body and multiple parts. There’s beauty in unity. But the pitfalls of the recurring themed Groundhog Day in Our Wilderness, is bigger by our various triggers. There’s deliverance in this hinderance called surrender. However, the popular track of attacks, is the mean lean gleam of the solidarity confinement, in alignment of the wrong boom boom.
Hidden tears suppressing paralyzing fears, are the eyes and ears, to the actuate of our swing. In the wind, we transcend to the pull of the wool living in our sting. It’s designed to be a lesson of confessions. Not the ghost of our hosted hostage. We should not be pressing play on sabotage due to that minute mirage. The wool is over our eyes, by the lies that bind us blind. We should not be pressing play on silent salute. Be still to discern the sting, for the zoom to be loud enough, to comprehend the correct lens of God’s message.
My life is absolutely crazy right now God. But you already know this as the penned author to my blueprint as your vessel. Like I can’t even conceptualize, how insane the pressure is pressing, from all angles God. That’s probably why your ways are Higher. One of my favorite scripture powers to meditate on Dad. I haven’t called you Dad in a while because I’ve been so mad at you. Like all you keep telling me is to walk through all of this, be still and to trust you, over and over, and various ways.
Periodically, I receive that image of a charcoal rock. That you want me to chew on, and push myself to flexibly expand my perspective. Most days it’s a stupid grey rock, I want to break windows with. It’s so interesting that I’m adamant, to never allow any of my students to say the word stupid. Yet, I freely use this word, when I’m in the eyewall of my emotions. The most dangerous part of any storm. There’s nothing more dangerous than the storm of a raging human.
Talk about ineffectively leading by example, when no one is watching. I didn’t connect until now, how you have been showing me this rock for a while. But when I’m still, I swiftly lift in descend to the eye of the storm, the most peaceful and safest place to be. That’s where you dwell God.
I’m slowly starting to effectively comprehend, why you’ve positioned my lift to incorporate so much stillness in my life right now. It’s increasing my clarity tremendously. Especially, the blessing of my new church. Talk about the rainbow in these deep grey clouds Dad. And this blessing is so timely. Because you’re still peeling the reel of cheap lemonade, that temporarily stayed in my space of being Your Renegade.
The imitation was a limitation, that lasted for far too long. That wrong song, delegated and celebrated, was a suffocation by leaders consumed in the zoom of deadly flesh. Instead of the surrender, to Your Might God, there was an insulting tender to the reject of day and play on night. A devastating lampshade, has been placed on the illumination of Your Edification.
There’s a dangerous hesitation in the declaration to say yes to your call. There’s a withdrawal to copy and paste these pitfalls. The abyss that starts with that kiss of flesh. There’s deliverance in this hinderance called surrender.
This morning was interesting in your presence God. You pointed my pendulum to a dream I found as a continuum for a year, until this morning. The push to quench my growing thirst of more didn’t activate, until I took Be Transformed at my old church. I will always love my old church, because I harvested my relationship with you there God.
I found my savior Jesus, through Jojo* and my old church, regardless of all my suppressed hurt, my old church was a blessing in my life. A Labrador Tea Flower, birthed from my rock of you God. I know with conviction, that you are My Cornerstone Best God. I can’t say with confidence, that I’d stand firmly on this truth. If I didn’t live the last three years, exactly how I did, I wouldn’t be the daughter you’ve been pruning me to be. Even all my pain, still had a gain of my intimacy with you God. For that, everything was worth it.
My hinderance had a deliverance because I pressed play on day and rejected night; despite the painful fight to press pause in this pitfall. All would’ve been loss, and my life is not my own. So my consistency in my vulnerability, through my painful hesitancy remained the same. I kept my figurehead focused on the truth that everything I breathe is bigger than me.
Crysta is a vessel to the canvas that God paints. My yes is connected to yeses that follow me. So I am deliberate in my desperation to always keep my sword lifted. Even when I want to put it down like I have been lately. My heart is broken by so much it can’t be formulated. The world is in a renal pitfall that urgently needs a transplant called revival. There’s too many periods found in places where Your Commas should dwell. There’s deliverance in this hinderance called surrender.
I remember this dream as if I had this dream last night. And I remember describing this dream to my Be Transformed small group. And describing this dream to my parents. I described the dream to my parents first. My father is completely freaked out by supernatural, like the rest of so many of your chosen. And my dad’s unhealthy outlet is alcohol. A long time ago my father admitted to me, that he drinks thinking what he sees with his spiritual eyes will go away, but told me it doesn’t. I have a memory of an elephant.
God has wired me to not forget anything. He guides me to store information for a later date, for His Perfect Timing, like God did with this dream I had around this time last year. So the dream started with a beautiful white sanded beach. I sensed danger immediately, regardless of the beauty and tranquility from the waves. It was dangerous.
The serene sounds were a facade. What kept tripping me up was how short the eyes I was seeing from were. I kept saying I’m not this short. I’m 5’10”. The eyes I was seeing from was like 5’2″. I’m no longer confused, because God revealed to me this morning who’s eyes they belonged to. His daughter that inspired the poem 17. That surprised me, but reflecting on the dream now, it makes a lot more sense. So I get why you kept telling me to be still. Events had to play out up to this point, for me to really get your message.
The back of the son you keep showing me is my ribcage appeared. He was wearing a faded red pizzeria shirt with fading white letters spelling deliver me. At this time last year, I was looking at the dream from a surfaced perspective, thinking that’s the weirdest pizza delivery shirt ever.
It’s a different comprehension now. So your sons back was facing the eyes of the 5’2″ daughter I was seeing through. Your deliver me shirt wearing son, had a moving box in his hand walking away from the 5’2″ daughter. She was struggling to catch up to him. And kept telling him to wait. He was ignoring her. Then the white beach sand became black tar. She started sliding the harder she tried to catch up to him. He was walking normally and easily on the black tar. The faster she tried to catch up to him, the more she slid on the black tar. Then my grandmother appeared. I immediately said why are you here? You’re dead. She gave me a distracting smile, but that was not even the weirdest part. She was eating bacon slowly.
I said I love bacon. And I miss her. Then I woke up, and immediately looked for my parents for interpretation. They both agreed death is not of God. My mom said that satan entered the message God was sending me. She said my grandmother went to heaven with Jesus, and is a guardian angel protecting her bloodline. My dad kept saying the girl won’t get the bacon brought home to her. He also said she’s being deceived. He never addressed the girl as me. Back then I thought it was weird my dad wasn’t addressing the girl as me. But now I get why. Because it wasn’t me. Then my dad told me that boy is trouble, and deeply troubled and for me to wait on God. That’s exactly what I did. And that’s what I will continue to do. Because our pitfalls is a hinderance, with a deliverance called surrender. I choose to play surrender. Thank you Holy Spirit.