These Thorn-Laced Crowns.

"If you are to sit with Christ upon His throne, you must go with Him through His Gethsemane." -A. B. Simpson

We are James and Johns, every one. We want the glory without the sacrifice. We want the revival without the repentance. We want the resurrection without the death. And Jesus' response to us is the same: "You don't know what you're asking. Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?" (Matthew 20:22). 

And eagerly, naively, we echo the cry of the brothers who so boldly sought the throne-room: We can!

No, we don't know what we are asking. We are far too pampered to truly grasp the implications of the One who said, Sell everything you have. Hate your mother and father, your sons and your daughters. Take up your cross, daily. And follow Me. If we understood the weight of these words--of what it means to be a living sacrifice, our bodies laid upon His altar--we'd start running in the opposite direction.

But Jesus looks at our naive, eager hearts with love. He does not turn us away. He only says, with compassion spilling over in His eyes, "You will indeed drink from My cup," (Matthew 20:23).

Because, while the cost is great, the reward is greater. So though we don't know what we are asking, I pray He gives it to us anyway. For the glory of our Father's name. That His Kingdom may come, His will (not ours) be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Dear Jesus. Give us the grace to follow You.

Completely in Love.

"Perfect love casts out fear," (1 John 4:18). 

Whenever I hear this verse discussed, the conversation generally centers solely around God's love for us. Which is not inaccurate--truly, if we could receive God's love perfectly, fear would cease to be even the vaguest of memories. But I think there's something we tend to overlook.

The one who is made complete in love is not simply the one who is loved perfectly, but the one who also loves perfectly. This is what John is screaming through the repetitions in these five chapters, the word as constant as the waves of the sea (love, love, love). The one who does not love cannot claim to know God's love. The only response to a perfect love is to love perfectly in return.

If we genuinely loved the lost, no power in Hell could prevent us from sharing the truth that would bring them into the arms of ultimate joy. If we genuinely loved our brothers and sisters, no petty arguments or hurts could ever stand in the way of us crawling to them on our hands and knees to reconcile their hearts to ours. If we genuinely loved our God, we would obey even the most impossible of commands without the slightest hesitation.

When we love perfectly, the fear will leave, Beloved. Love will scoop that darkness from the hidden hollows of our hearts and fling it far, over our heads and into the sky's vast expanse. Our eyes try to follow, but it has disappeared, swallowed by infinite blue. We have never felt so light.

(Re)Genesis.

These are the times. When the loneliness stretches--the most profound silence. Stripped down to the ugliest fragments of me. I don't--I don't want to find myself here. I don't want You--(please, anyone but You)--to find me, either. Not here. The guilt and shame like black tar smeared across my unmasked face, my head-hairs--(You once so lovingly counted)--matted with filth. I want to tear--tear them from the roots, fling their strangled bodies--far away from me. Farther still, from You.

Yet.

At the mere whisper of my name, the dam (those long years in the dark, I so carefully, painstakingly, built, so they--so You--could never find, could never see)--shatters, the river of my heart-cry rushing out in a torrent, rushing (spinning, speeding, soaring)--into the ocean of You. This Voice that birthed the universe--(let there be)--in a kaleidoscope of color and light and--vibrations, the heartbeat of the stars--humming in tune, and I cry--I cry with them Glory. 

And You answer: Love, Be.

We Shine Like Stars in the Universe.

The lines of her face were drawn in loveliness. Born into desperation, with no father and a scattered people, the world could not have known she was the chosen one. Yet she altered history's ever-flowing course with a single footstep into the throne room of her king. Her name was Esther, and she shone like a star in that dark universe.

Her legacy is our inheritance. We have been chosen, orphans plucked from the street and instructed to make ourselves ready. To bathe in the oil of repentance until we are dripping in the fragrance of holiness.

We live in a desperate time. The Enemy rages against God's people with a stolen and malicious authority. Now is the time to enter the throne room of Heaven and plead the case of our brothers and sisters before our King. To kneel trembling before the One who alone holds the power of life and death in His hands.

For our King is full of mercy, and His heart is moved by our loveliness. He will extend the scepter to us, that we may dwell in His presence and live. He will answer our request, up to half His kingdom. He will grant His power to our people, that we may fight back against the Enemy, and overcome. 

Do not be afraid, beloved. Enter the throne room, and speak. Who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?

The Day I Did Not Save the World.

The world weighs heavy, caked with dirt and sorrow. Uneven stitches stretched into a crooked smile, a seam-split in skin too paper-thin for beauty. Such fragility, these glass-wrought bones, these delicate souls tucked in heart-shaped cradles.

Yet it weighs; it weighs so heavy.

I pitched my body forward when it fell, cupped my hands to catch the sphere flung so far from its course. But it pulled me into the plummet, into the shadowed cracks of the universe. Its yoke striping my neck with creases dripping bloody, its burden curling my spine into distortion.

We fell together. The spin made me dizzy and sick. My wings crumbled, as we tumbled, into the black.

Forgive me, dear. I cannot save you. You are too heavy. You are too heavy for me.

The moments strung along like years, and for a thousand or more, I shut my eyes against the terror. But I had to learn the reason, some explanation of why, I was still breathing.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the stars singing. When I opened my ears, I heard our hearts beating. That face, that voice, those hands that held. Making existence suddenly easy, and light. And I looked past the world, over the curve of sky and sea. My gaze timid and wavering, until His steadied mine.

But not too heavy for Me, My love. Not too heavy for Me.