Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Rabbit and the broken Pony

The Rabbit and the broken Pony

Rabbit came home from school with his owner, Lucy, after farm day at school. 

Rabbit had seen all types of other toys that looked all torn up, but he kept hearing over and over about 'real' rabbits and 'real' puppies, but he couldn't find anything that looked as nice as he did. 

Disgruntled, and mildly confused, Rabbit asked the Broken Pony when  Lucy brought him back home. 

"What does it mean to be real? Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?" 

Pony laughed at him.

''Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you," he said. "When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become real."

Rabbit wondered how he was ever going to figure his 'real' mystery out if he kept asking this Pony. 

So he tried again, using a different method. He was the new model after all, and Pony was terribly outdated. 

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked. "Or bit by bit?''

The Pony thought for a minute about it, and just when Rabbit had given up he said, "It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time."

"So, what kind of time are we talking here?" Rabbit asked. "I only have a shelf life of about 1 year; only a few months before the new model comes out. Is there any way to speed this process up?"

"Not without it hurting, things like this take time," Pony said. "You don't get to have everything your way."

"But why?" Rabbit demanded, growing more and more impatient with this Pony's crazy ideas.

"Because it isn't about you," Pony said as he started to limp away.

"Then who is it about?" Rabbit asked.

"It's about your relationship with Lucy. It's not about the rules, or the color of your fur," he said.

"Then how am I ever supposed to be real?" Rabbit asked, somewhat dejected at this thought. "I've never been taught anything but cute and fluffy." 

Pony stopped, turned around and smirked at the Rabbit. He saw the vigor of his youth and desire to become this 'real' he had seen at school. 

"It doesn't happen often to toys who break easily, or have sharp edges. You know, those toys who have to be carefully kept," he said. "Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose joints and look very shabby."

Rabbit was stunned. He had never considered Pony as anything but broken before. His limpy leg was all taped and held together with a half Popsicle stick that was still half purple from Lucy's snack the other day. 

"Are you telling me I have to look like YOU to be real?" Rabbit asked. 

"Rabbit," Pony said, looking at his broken body. "These things don't matter at all, because once you are real you can't be ugly, except to the people who don't understand."

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Choice. (2011)

How much does He love us?

So much.

Enough to die,
To fight for us
To take the fall

But most all, he gave us freedom

Freedom to turn our lives around
Freedom to fall and run into walls
Freedom to make mistakes, to learn

Or not.

He gave us the freedom to choose.

Can you imagine someone saying, "I let my innocent son die tragically after being tortured for you, but you don't have to love me?"

Of course we can't.
Of course we take that for granted.

When we as Christians, or wanna be Christians run into trouble from our past, we can only hope and pray that those who are immediately impacted will see past our sin and see who we are trying to be.

We can only speak our sorrow, ask for forgiveness, and hand the situation over to God to handle.

Unfortunately sometimes as Christians we have to back off and let God do His thing. It is never fun knowing we aren't the superheroes we lead ourselves to believe we are.

I can only imagine Jesus being ridiculed in his final hours, thinking, "I don't wanna be the one to say goodbye, but I will. 'Cause in the future, you're gonna come back around."

It's hard to see people turn their backs on you, but just imagine the pain God felt watching his son. Actually, he couldn't bear the sight, the ultimate sacrifice.

Sometimes the only way to really know God's strength is to let go of what holds you back from seeking out.

Maybe it's losing someone you've cared about for a long time. Maybe it's losing a lot of people you thought had your best interest at heart.

We may be saying, "I don't wanna be the first to let it go." But we need to teach our hearts to say, "But I know, if you, my God, have the last hands that I want to hold. Then I know I've got to let them go."

It is one of the hardest things I've had to do. I've had nights where I cried and ached for people, where just one more of anything would cure all my wrongs. It's a really weak and humbling place to be.

But my promise is to do my best to wash away everything, each and every day until God comes home to collect me.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Seasons & Society

Soft, gentle, without a cause.
I run toward a light that moves.
Pain like this gives me pause.
I failed a lesson I thought I knew.

In my past I've struggled to speak. So God has called me to express. Satan tries every way to show me that I'm weak.

Not safe.

Trapped within a wall. I let this affect me, my lack of faith.

Kind words are lost on today's society. More and more people are hurt by the absence of kindness and love in our churches. Our lack of forgiveness speaks volumes more than our false praises.

It dries a heart that was ones filled with love for others.

Where does it lead? To dust and dust alone; the grave.

Caring for one another has been put aside. It is replaced with anger and deceit. Our words say, "violence is the only answer." It opens painful doors which should be kept shut and closes doors that should be open to opportunity.

We all have walls built up. Our most challenging task is to reveal ourselves, flaws and all, so one by one, the bricks will fall.

Society tells us our wall keeps us safe from the world outside. The choice is who to let in and who to keep out.

So many people so little trust; yet each has a spiritual gift; each we are called to love. We live our lives with opened eyes closed mouths.

All we can see is a fading life, from color to grey, not black or white. Slowly but surely life fades away, home is where I’m headed; don't waste today.