Beloved

Voices that seem a million miles removed ransack

My mind like hungry scavengers 

All the while seeming to be but a dream. 

Overwhelm rises but doesn’t quite reach the brink of my eyelids.

No tears can carry the sadness 

Or sharp words the anger swelling through my arms,

Causing an all-familiar ache and feeling of falling. 

Everything within wanting, waiting, writhing 

While my body sits frozen, my eyes fain brightness, my mouth forces a smile. 

The disassociation takes me back 

To days when I needed to convince everyone

–even me–

That I was a good big sister. 

The little girl can see her now, thirty-four and a professional

At the pretense of presence

The pretending people cannot push me too far. 

I wonder how long I can keep this up,

How long I’ll need to convince everyone

–even me–

That I’m a good leader. 

It’s not always like this.

Sometimes I thrive as I lead,

Grounded and growing, laughing and leading a song of joy.

But sometimes I catch my heart deep acting, 

My brain dysregulated by a slurry of lies about my identity. 

“Good leader, good leader, good leader” 

Something deep in my being yells at my heart,

And I succumb to the lies, convincing everyone

–even me–

That they are truth. 

My heart searches for escape but by grace

Finds resurrection. 

A message moored to the Rock of Ages

Whom waves woo me to kiss and hide,

Held and tempered from the storm of my past. 

The Most Resilient Leader looks at my frame

Soaked, cold, stiff, weeping. 

My eyes plead with Him to notice my accomplishments, 

To convinced everyone

–even me–

That I’m a good leader. 

He smiles and by one look at His face

I know He’s not going to say what I want.

My eyes are cast down on the waves again.

Disappointed and despairing of ever returning to joy,

I take a shuttering breath and reconsider quitting. 

Escaping by running from the pressure. 

But God. 

I feel Him lifting my chin, inviting me to look in His face again.

I’m not sure if I want to accept

His invitation to reorient. 

Then the wind catches His words,

Rushing through the storm and into my soul 

Warming and thawing me. 

“Beloved.” He says. “Beloved, beloved, beloved.

You don’t need to convince everyone 

–even Me–

That You are a good leader.

No longer do you simply do the actions to prove “good.” 

Your identity is secure and grounded

In My character and everlasting arms.

Whether you lead or follow, work or rest,

You are mine.

You can be.

You are loved.

Beloved forever.”

A Multitude

When the apostle looked and saw

A multitude

(A crowd from every nation, tribe, and tongue),

He saw the beauty of the gospel

Displayed in death-defying, barrier-breaking,

Culture-countering, God-glorifying ways.

A multitude

Of reasons exist in the worldly

As to why the apostle should have never seen

Such a foreshadowing. 

Clutching and clawing to create chaos 

Reasons whispered from the father of lies 

Wrap themselves in the disguise of 

Almost truths.

The kind of messages we attend our ear to 

When there is space.

A multitude

Of space left empty, void of the Spirit’s

Fruit and Presence. 

We are being formed by whatever we 

Wait on, wandering up ways that wilt our 

Will to follow His. 

A multitude

Of messages drive our minds to be made up 

About the other. 

Forsaking the example of the One we claim to follow

We chose tribe over multitude. 

Tribalism is a not merely poison or in-circling but 

A lack of discipleship. 

Where did the days disappear to when disciples discerned 

That Christ was bigger than a nation’s leader?

And that He, though a servant of all

Was the King of the third way? 

When did we start resisting His kingdom 

For party lines and personal gain? 

A multitude 

Of sorrows upon the Church of Christ

Who has turned her back on the goal, 

Shortsighted for the tribe of comfort and self-created identity. 

May we repent and weep

Crying out for the heart of Jesus Who gave His all.

Taking on the form of a servant, He birthed the possibility of

All nations, tribes, and tongues–

A multitude.