Just a pen?

My handle on twitter is Justapen, and I publish this blog under that name as well. I like to say that “I am and the instrument, the pen, and not the author.” But my wife teased me the other day saying “how much of your writing do you actually do with a pen?” Now I could say that there is very little difference between a pen and a keyboard or between my spiral bound notebook and my netbook. But it really hit me. “how much writing do I do with a pen?”

on the wrong side of the jordan

My pastor is often fond of saying “worship on THIS side of the Jordan.”  In case you were wondering he’s talking about it’s a reference to Joshua 3.

 Now the Jordan overflows its banks throughout the harvest season. But as soon as the priests carrying the ark reached the Jordan, their feet touched the water at its edge and the water flowing downstream stood still, rising up

But imagine what it must have been like for the Israelites to look at that mighty river overflowing it’s banks with the promise land on just the other side.  This generation didn’t see the Red Sea part and they probably weren’t thinking much about signs and wonders at that moment.  It isn’t too hard to read a little bit of despair in the hearts of people who were literally “this close” to the promise of blessing only to have it cut off by an impassible river.

a letter from the Father

This morning during my private prayer time I felt the Father really speaking into me and wanted to share it with everyone.  The exercise is not that different from journalism in which you send out a prayer or a question and then write the response God puts on your heart.

 

Dear Sage,

Stop. Listen.  Don’t think, don’t go back over this after you’ve read it looking for hidden messages and secret instruction.  Right now all I’m asking you to do is accept and receive these words.  I know that’s hard for you but I also know you can do it.  Trust me on this one, I really know what I’m talking about.

Time

Time marches on
day after day
always
the same.
Tick tock tick tock
Echoes Father’s clock
as the seconds
turn into third and fourth and fifth
helpings of this dish
called time
and marches on.

Time marches on
and the colors shift and sway
from day to day
towards and away
life and death
from green to black
and back
and forth.
the more things change
the more they stay the same.
And time marches on.

the day AFTER the ressurection

Jesus died and everyone was feeling depressed.  Everyone mourned the loss of their mentor, their teacher, and their friend and brother.  This was the man who had looked around while they sat together and said “Here is my mother and brother and sister.”  And now he was gone, brutally tortured and murdered by the people from whom he was supposed to save them and whom he had even forgiven.

Jesus rose and everyone celebrated.  Mary wept in the garden and clung to him in relief.  The Disciples were torn between astonishment and sheer joy.  They were ready for the revolution, they were ready to continue on and couldn’t wait to see what would happen after this ultimate miracle.  They had seen Jesus call the dead back to life before but this was a whole other level. Jesus called himself back to life!  I mean talk about some good PR “Miracle worker miraculously lives!”

And then Jesus drops a bombshell on them all.  “Go and make disciples of all the nations.”