So here’s the story…
There’s a God,
a Great Omnipotent Deity
He who created,
All creation’s Creator, Originator,
Original, the universe’s general,
He who holds all in hand,
wrote all life’s plans,
Sewed double helix DNA into the nucleus of man.
Hemmed the heavens and the earth together with the utterance of word,
Worked the wheel of wisdom,
Willing the filling of an empty expanse until space became sky and sea conceded to land, plants, animals, birds of the sky and then man
From dirt, breath and a decree of ‘yes, it is good’
Good God Almighty,
Father of many, Father of any who call His Name, who fall on face, embrace this grace, reject the disgrace of the taste of sin,
Those who spit it far from them and gargle with His blood.
Blood bought, blood bath, blood to hold back the wrath of the wages of the pages of sin that we pile up against the book of Life.
He is perfect, entire, lacking nothing, but yet seeing something in frail flesh, in weak souls, who free fall into sin, singing songs of ignorance and chanting vows of bliss, missing the glaring flames waiting to lick at their lives til the end of the impending, unending eternal time…
But I know better,
me,
Who He called and crafted, gave words and drafted into the discipleship of Christ,
And given this life, light, inside like a lamp, with no shade, no battery need, solar powered rays to shine away the darkness in the eyes of the blind, given gift in order that they too might find, instead of eternal death, LIFE…
That was His intention, right?
Right, so how come
I,
knowing what I know, growing how I’ve grown, having seen what I’ve been shown,
How come I,
crumble under the weight of the carnality, how did I end up being a casualty, to the curse of flesh, when I’ve been shown the cross?
But wait, I don’t understand,
I, me, as in me, why?
Why, would perfection beckon to imperfection, why would someone so whole call to one with a cracked soul?
Why would You see me?
When after You freed me,
I heeded to the call of the crap I left back when I was still trapped and ate it up addicted as tho it were crack and cracked open my saved, sealed soul til it oozes out and is no longer whole.
This isn’t one of those cases where the individual is lost and ignorant to the fact that they need saving, and yet…
Why?
I?
Me, me though?
No?
Why?
You who are Father to Jesus, and James, and John, Jeremiah and Job, and Jacob, You who chose Abraham and Isaac, Malachi, Moses, David, Samuel, Ezekiel, Elisha, Hezekiah, how could you call me one?
A son?
As tho I were not so dark that my sins eclipse the sun,
As tho I were not miry,
willingly giving into whims, living a little too irie
As tho I don’t act like I don’t care and continue to go…
As tho…
No, how could you call me one?
A son? Of the Most High?
You who are so high, so right, so life, so light.
Me, so low, stagnated growth, light hidden and turned down low, dead.
Stop
Let me tell you the truth: perfection doesn’t need permission, or validation
And eternity never needed a reason to allow an occurrence in a moment.
Three score and ten does not put a dent in infinite time, like having a few cents don’t make sense when building a tent in a gold mine.
That which is whole, makes all things whole, it cannot be lessened by that which merely needs a few lessons in getting better at living…
So God never needed a reason to reckon that by continuing to beckon to that which is broken, He could hold it, hold us, till we’re effectively moulded into person’s worth beholding,
He calls me son not because I was ever worthy of being named one, but because the First Begotten has already gotten all the scars for my sins, past, present and future,
His sovereignty is full-proof and foolproof, not concerned with what we fools do, because even we fools too can be recreated over time,
fullness happens only when that which was empty gets filled up over time.
And I, acknowledge that am not yet truly filled with Christ’s mind.
Because baptism was just a start and tongues were really only ever a sign that He has talked His way into my heart…
So He calls me son, speaking that which is not yet as it will be, leading me through the valley of death until I come out like Christ did and can look up when He calls sons on that day, knowing I have actually become one.
KADOWSH 