"So Says My Soul"

From the Wilderness

Well, let’s see…
Where to begin? 
The end, I think.

For here I find myself 
walking hand in hand
step by step
with the Promised One 
to the Promised Land. 

Each step is firm and certain 
for You have shown me 
that I was chosen
to walk this very path,
to drink this very glass
wherein goodness lies
and water rises, everlasting
all wealth, and treasure,
safety, health,
and measures of strength
I could ever need
so long as I continue to heed Your voice. 

I made the choice. 
I am Yours. 
You showed me truth
how You’ve pursued me
from the very beginning
You knew me and loved me. 

For, true love does not rest
in the arms of man
but in the arms of Christ.
Safety, security, life
does not rest in the arms of man
but in the arms of Christ.
Protection is from above and not below
grace is constantly overflowing 
from the heart of Love
that loves me. 
Identity is not meant to be
found in him who adores me,
but in Him who formed me. 

Truth is pouring from Your glory
and restoring me to who I am supposed to be
freely creating, joyfully inebriated
by the fragrant aroma of peace 
You are faithfully growing in me
through pain and trial and love. 

Oh, where to begin? 
Where to end? 
Did I ever think this heart would mend or be safe? 
Did I ever think I would see through Your eyes 
or be brave? 
I see that it this always true: 
Wisdom, love, identity,
peace, and safety, security,
begin and end in You. 
So I walk with You 
and talk with You
I pray to You, obey You
I listen and I praise You, 
with a joyful heart I start to sing, 
thanking You for everything. 

Divine Revelation

Oh my word… How I have been blinded for years… In the image of God I was created, and in the image of God I create. He has given me the gift of creativity, of an artist’s hand, eye, mind. Art is me… It is interwoven in all that I do. It is who I am. I am my Father’s daughter, a co-heir with Christ, holy and set apart for His purposes — but His purpose in my life was painted on me within the womb. I am a creator modeled after the Creator. It is the most… beautiful… amazing… Awe-inspiring gift I could have asked for… 

And yet… For years — YEARS — I have given this gift, piece by piece into the hands of the enemy. And he’s smart, he knows that if he can get his hands on this, he has me. If he can control my art, he can control me. For, you see, it is in everything that I do and am. It colors my visions of myself and God, and in turn colors every interaction I have. I am what I make. And if he can convince me that what I make is average, then I believe I am average. If he can convince me (which he very, very often does) that what I make is less average, then I believe that I am less than average. If he can convince me that no one really likes my art, but is patronizing me because they pity me, then I believe that no one really likes me but is patronizing me out of pity. I believe that everyone is lying to me. If he can make me hate my art, he can make me hate myself, because I am my art and my art is myself. Oh, I see, it is the most powerful tool he has in defeating me… And how close I came to handing it over completely! 

Praise the Lord that He has shown me this!!! What a dangerous weapon to have in the hands of someone who hates me! The enemy could have defeated me with this had it not been for the loving hand of my Father! Oh my, I am amazed it has taken me so long to see what I have been doing. 

In my art lies the key to my being. Days ago, God inspired me to begin a self-portrait, something I have often attempted, but never completed. He told me to keep pushing until the end, and even when I think it looks bad, to just continue until I finish… 

I began, and literally within seconds I wanted to stop. It is a terribly nerve-wracking thing to make the first mark on a clean piece of paper. But I started. I drew my eye. Then came the nose… Again, I wanted to quit. (And when I say “wanted”, that is an understatement—my heart was screaming to stop.) Every moment that I spent drawing, self-deprecating thoughts flooded my mind: “Stupid, I hate myself so much, never going to be able to do this, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself…” (Although, there were much more colorful words in the mix as well.) But I was determined to push through. 

Finally, I completed my nose. But then came the other eye. I always begin with the right eye, then the nose, and, if I haven’t quit by then, I quit now. The left eye scares me. Something about the reversal of lines… But I pushed myself, and I drew it. My mind and soul were screaming at me to stop. I kept telling myself I could never do it. I kept hearing those words over and over that I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. But I did. I drew it. Pride filled my being, but it was quickly extinguished when I looked into my eyes. 

I told myself to draw what I saw, not what I thought I saw. I was focused on accuracy. So as I looked into my own eyes, I saw what I had drawn… It was a sadness I have never seen before… It was despair… I have always believed I was joyful and happy, yet as I looked into my own eyes I saw pain like nothing I’d ever witnessed… I was perplexed, to say the least. But now I see! 

The enemy has had his grips firmly on my art. I hate myself when I draw. I hate myself to my very core. I hate everything inside me, everything about me. I hate my entire being. Hate is not a strong enough word. But this is of the enemy. This is his signature. And the hate is not limited to my drawing, as he would so like to deceive me into believing. It permeates every part of me. I hate my art, but my art is me, and so I walk around always with the burning hatred for myself and all that I do… 

I won’t do it anymore! I was created in the image of God, and in the image of God I create. I have seen! I will not do it anymore! Knowledge is power. Oh, I am praising the Lord for this sight I have received! In my art, He will refine me, and purify me, He will use me for His kingdom, I will create as I am purposed to create! I will bring glory to Him! I see now, if I surrender this, and offer it on the altar of the Lord, rather than the altar of the enemy, He will use it as it is meant to be used! Oh! What freedom comes in the light of the Lord!!! The lie that I must brood in order to create depth is not true, that I must be tortured and pained for true expression is not true! For the power to create does not come from within man, but from within God! It comes from seeing the Lord’s face and surrendering your hands and mind and eyes to Him. 

I will no longer live in the darkness. I have been walking with my hands still in the shadows, refusing to let them be seen — but no longer! I will bring every part of me into the light of the One who made me, so that by His strength and power and inspiration I will make the things He desires and bring glory to Him! I will not be a tool of the wicked one, but of the HOLY ONE. 

In the image of God I was created, and in the image of God I create. Oh, praise Him forever and ever and ever. Praise Him. 

The Refinery

I thought it was hollowness I saw 
but it is depth — truth… 
intensity… raw feelings stare back 
from pearls formed in pain and discomfort
(Dare I say beauty?) growing in death
sweetness comes from the stench
of a life wrecked and rotting
a life not left forgotten —
but seen by the One who let me die
so i might live — still, it is not i 
who live, but He lives in me, and forgives me 
and allows me to see the spectrum
of feeling, the lowest of lows 
so I can see how brightly He glows 
in the night, and I might begin to know
— to truly know — how He loves, 
and what He thinks, and how He cares. 
Do i dare see the beauty He is forming in me? 
Do i dare look with eyes unholy on the Holy One 
who lives in me? 
I thought it was hollowness, 
but that’s because this — this is something new
something unrecognizable with eyes
so dirty, so unyielding 
so unused to feeling…
this is pain, real pain, true pain
with a reason.
These eyes are cleaned, 
and in this season I see the truth 
for the expression worn by the heart that’s torn
as I enter from death to life
as I enter back and am reborn
in my cries I hear it: 
this is the life-giving pain that comes from the Spirit. 

Self-Portrait

This is who I created
she aches and 
looks back at me with 
longing in her eyes
sadness swallows up the gladness
as she stares, hollowed inside. 
When I look at her, 
I feel ugly, 
like the person she is
reflects back in me. 
How is it, when I try,
the one who I thought had died
comes back to life? 
How is it she keeps returning
and staring at me with 
a burning yearning for love. 
I tell her the truth… 
Yet her expression is unchanged
unfazed by the knowledge
by the hearing of the “good news”
Greyscale always 
always staring 
eyes as dead as 
the tree that housed the led 
that lead me to this.
Though insistent, 
she is inconsistent 
with facts. 
I am looking right back at her, 
screaming
You’re a lie. 
Don’t tell me who I am, 
don’t tell me I’m you, 
because you’re dead. 
You died and were crucified,
I to you, you to me.
I am new, alive, identified, 
and soon I will be glorified.
Don’t tell me who I am, 
because who I am is His. 
His beloved, His bride, 
covered by the blood of the Lamb
who died and rose. 
Don’t tell me who I am,
because, frankly, you don’t know. 

I don’t want to go to bed. 
I don’t want to sleep. 
I want to keep torturing myself with things unsaid. 

I’m a child. I’ve gone wild. 
I’ve shouted, screamed,
kicked and punched, all the while
You tell me “Be still.” 
You tell me to rest. 
But I don’t want to. I don’t want to. 
I want to stay up. 
I want You to fill my cup 
so I can drink and stay up. 

Please don’t make me. 
I don’t want to. 

I’m sad. It’s sad. 
I’m so tired it hurts, 
yet, somehow, it seems worse 
to sleep. 
I just want to keep the fire burning. 
I just want to keep returning 
to the past. The things that don’t last, 
I want to relive them, never forgive them
and torture myself till the sun rises. 

I don’t get why I act this way. 
Why do I say what I say? 
It would be so much easier to give in
and rest. 
It would be best! 
Yet, I don’t. 
I’m focused inward, 
and not heavenward. 
I need to look up, give up, and rest. 

I’m sorry… Take the burden, please
begin to mold me. 
You can have it, I’m sorry. 
I surrender. 
Goodnight. 

No, I know it’s not true, but

It happens regularly
frustration overcomes me
blank
white 
rage
I know what to do 
to take this page
picture, prep, paint 
I have only done it once 
only once have I done what I wish 
with every part of this
stupid, stupid soul 
I am angry
frustrated
enraged
tired, exhausted of fighting 
I look inward and find nothing
You tell me look upward and find everything
Oh, yes, in that I find peace 
but no paintings
I find writing flowing from my fingers
but where are my drawings? 
gnawing at my core 
is this longing, clawing, yet I can’t
the wall is too high
too long, too wide
I can’t climb it.
I can’t break through it. 
I can’t even see around it. 

How can I call myself “artist”? 
How can I dare share that title?
“Creator”? I laugh. 
I’m a sham. A fake. A quack. 
take me back to childhood
see the things I could do 
the list was long, the potential immeasurable
yet with each inch I grew less capable 
with each inch I grew, the wall grew taller
taller… taller… 
I felt smaller and smaller in the shadow 
colder and colder in the darkness. 

I can’t adequately describe the pain. 

(i suppose it intimidates me…)

I grew colder and froze in fear
fearfully enfeebled 
by this wall that steals my creativity

I suppose I sacrifice my art on the altar of fear
living constantly under the crooked rule 
of the crook that fooled me into thinking I’m nothing 
he sold, I bought
I’m caught, caught— caught up in his lies. 
taught to think I ought not even try. 
I never will. 
So why bother? 

I suppose it is pride, 
i’m a perfectionist.
I have to be the best. 
Yet, I know
I never will. 
So why bother?

it is no small thing. 

it is as if I were a bird without wings
as if I were a horse without legs 
begging to be shot 
forgotten and put out of its misery 

“Poor miserable me” I say constantly
as if self-pity and quitting is the solution 

I need help 
left to my own devices 
I seek viperous vices 
to distract me 
reduce me to instincts and feeling
turn out the lights as if that’s dealing— 
oh… But I feel it. 
The pencil, the paper 
everything is blank in the darkness
I am more empty than ever 

things of light scare me
darkness impairs me 

I sit, stupidly staring at blankness 
a useless, museless excuse for a person

sigh

Leaping

So long have I jumped
hopped, leapt
I have not thought
I hear the wind coming
and I fear
I jump away 
hide beneath the water
hear a noise, swim deeper under
darker caves, bigger rocks

Yesterday I heard a sound
I started trembling
looked all around but saw nothing
my legs started twitching
they wanted to jump
hop, leap
away from—
but I stopped
something stopped me

Oh, I hear the water
safety’s calling 
thoughts are bubbling 
overwhelming, overcoming 
fear fear fear
safety in oneness
safety in hiding
babbling, trickling 
pricking my cold skin

Sun… Where did you come from?
Why do you shine so brightly? 
You’re blinding me.
I’m afraid… 
my skin is too warm, 
Where is my water? 
Where is safety? 
I want to hide under 
the rocks. 

Rock, where are you? 
only sounds of hiding
deciding what to do
jump, hop, leap
away from you
fear fear fear 
Steps approach me 
creatures coming 
“Wait,” you say. 

I’m drying out in fear and doubt
and the rays of sun
Where did you come from? 
My skin is warm
my legs are shaking
quaking
yearning to jump, 
hop, leap away—
“Just wait,” you say. 

Exodus

Oh, to be in this place forever… To be bathed in the Presence of the Holy One… Bathed in His love and His peace… I cannot sigh enough; I cannot smile enough. Yet here in His presence, I am more aware of the future… The hope I have in Him. I will be in this place magnified forever. I will be in a reality more real than the shadow of reality I live in presently—for the substance of it is Christ, and I will see Him as He truly is. 

But this wilderness wandering is truly a blessed thing. I wake each morning to find fresh fallen manna outside my door step. It is a small thing to gather my daily bread, for it is such abundance. Each night I feast on quail. All the while, knowing whose hand provided both. To remember what He has done… To look around and no longer see chains, but brothers and sisters who love me, and my Strong Deliverer above me… There is no comparison here on earth. 

To walk each day in the knowledge of His guidance, and to see the path through His eyes. I see the dangers, the wars up ahead, but He goes before me. He will fight for me. And He is mighty, mighty to save. 

With each step I take, I feel the weight slipping away. Every step I take looses my mind and heart and soul from the bondage of Egypt. New habits of trust and submission, willful obedience, are being formed in me. I see Your faithfulness and I believe. I see Your goodness and I understand. Every step takes me further from self and closer to You. You have birthed in me this desire, and I know You have the power to fulfill it. Trusting in You is so sweet, for I know that You are trustworthy. 

Oh, praise the One who paid my debt. Praise the one who took me from death to life. Who raised me to walk in newness fo life. Who gave me His life, removing the penalty, the power, and will one day take away the very presence of sin. Praise God for He is good and holy and mighty to save. Praise Him for lifting His rod and bringing righteous discipline, for straightening my course and pointing me back toward Him. 

My prayer is that this will form a habit forever. That I will not be the Israelites who so overtly rebelled against their Redeemer, but that this seed You have planted will grow and grow, so that I will become less and less and You become more and more. Keep me on this path, I pray, no matter what happens. Cement this decision in my heart to follow after You, for it is the sweetest decision I have ever made. 

Psalm

(This will be a rambling from the gambling I have done.
I apologize for the profanity, and for all the vanities,
but it is churning up my insides, so I have to let it out.)

I sigh. I sigh… 

I breathe. 
(I doubt)

Release… 

I am placing myself in Your arms
and resisting the charms and deceits of the wicked one. 
the one who would love to see me run
from everything i’ve done and hide,
the one who would love to see me fall and cry out
and to listen to his calls and lies, and doubt. 
he would love for me to look in your eyes and see my 
shame reflected back on me.
my pain deflected back 
and see me wither and die. 

But I won’t.

You said we are victorious 
You said that it is glorious

I believe You. 

(he said that we are stuck
he said that we are fucked

i won’t believe him.

i won’t receive him anymore
i won’t open the door to that scorn and shame 
i won’t even mention his name or give him attention

goodbye.) 

YOU are all I need. 
YOU are all I choose to see. 
Fears, and shame, anxiety
I must believe they’re dissipating

I know…

I mean, I don’t know so much
but I do know and I trust
in You. 

The righteous will never be shaken
their bones will ne’er be broken
their hearts will not be crushed. 
as their spirits learn to trust 
in You, they’ll no longer fear bad news 
but will be joyful and peaceful and blessed. 

All the rest doesn’t really matter

one God.
one Truth. 

I am whole
I am complete
I am strong when I am weak
I am new
I am satisfied
I am freed from all my pride
I am rich according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus,
the One who died and saved us 
from slavery. 

He has given bravery
He has given hope
He has given forgiveness

We have peace amidst the storm
We are His forevermore
We are able to resist the fiery darts
with the shield of faith that protects our hearts.
We have security
We have sureties that we can rest on.
We have certainty in the Chosen One
with the words long written down. 

Write them down,
copy them, and you’ll see
the freedom promised 
for the redeemed of Christ 
is true, alive, at work in us
it is, indeed, the time I trust

(i am writing a Psalm of my qualms,
a plea to the Lord,
because i fear that my adored will leave
and not receive my love. 
i’m afraid of all my words being folly
and my heart falling 
into deepest despair.)

You remind me that You’ll be there. 

Rejoice, my soul.
Why are you so downcast within me? 
Has God not promised victory over this world? 
Has God not given you love, my girl? 
Rejoice, my heart. 
Why are you so downcast within me? 
Has God not given you a part in His joy 
and His inheritance? 
Has God not promised you won’t be consumed,
when tears are filling up your room, 
because of His compassions never failing? 
Has God not freed you from your wailing 
and agony of being separated from Him who loves you so? 
Rejoice, my soul. 
You’ve been made whole. 
Why continue to be so downcast within me? 
Has God not allowed you to see
His goodness and love in the land of the living? 
Is He not giving you strength to face 
the places and paths, with His own grace? 
Has He not put you in a battle ‘ready won
and overcome by the One, the mighty Fighter Himself? 
Has He not given you a wealth of riches beyond imagination? 
Has He left you lost or destitute in
your old ways of whoring and prostituting
to anyone who’d love you? 

Rejoice, my soul, 
and make the choice to see the truth. 
You’ve been renewed. 
And with this newness comes a different view 
on the world, this life, and tomorrow. 
Put away the words of sorrow you taunt yourself with. 
Open up, and receive the gift of peace. 

Rejoice, my heart. 
Hear the voice, and let it start to calm you. 
He will love and balm your wounds
He will hold you
and mold you so you will start to look like Him. 
He will fight, and you will win. 
Rejoice. 

There is a choice between the two,
Him or you, 
lies or Truth. 

So choose the Truth—REJOICE.