And the keys upon my laptop are singing again.....

Days turned to weeks and weeks to months...

In a corner it just laid...

When I write my laptop becomes my piano.  I close my eyes. I place my fingers upon the keys.  I breath and I go.  I let go.  But it changed....

It changed and I couldn't touch the keys that once had held the vibrations and symphonies of words for me.

Was it losing her that silenced my voice?
Was it losing her ? In losing her did I lose my song?

Was it losing her that once again had me open my eyes and see deeper? Longer?
Was it losing her that took my breath away?
Was it losing her?


I had been saying for a while that there was so much I couldn't do anymore. Did it really matter?  I didn't want to live in the negative and so I lived feeling like I was dangling, clinging desperately to a trapeze bar suspended in mid air blind to what lay before me.

I couldn't see...  It was as if the thickest of fog had settled in and I couldn't touch the next step.  But the problem wasn't some proverbial fog.  It was in seeing I didn't want to see.  Without understanding I had allowed the fog to come because for it to dissipate would mean decisions, choices... forward movement that I wasn't yet ready to touch.

I was living Matthew 13:12-17.

For whoever has, to him more shall be given, and he will have an abundance; but whoever does not have, even what he has shall be taken away from him. Therefore I speak to them in parables; because while seeing they do not see, and while hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. In their case the prophecy of Isaiah is being fulfilled, which says,

‘You will keep on hearing, but will not understand;
You will keep on seeing, but will not perceive;
For the heart of this people has become dull,
With their ears they scarcely hear,
And they have closed their eyes,
Otherwise they would see with their eyes,
Hear with their ears,
And understand with their heart and return,
And I would heal them.’

But blessed are your eyes, because they see; and your ears, because they hear. For truly I say to you that many prophets and righteous men desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it.

I was no different then the man at the pool of Bethsiada.  The age old question.. Do you want to be made well?

There is a cost to hearing.  There is a cost to seeing.  There is a cost to knowing and having understanding.  The place I found myself was at the brink.  The place of no return.  The place when once you see you can not pretend to have not seen.  I invited fog unknowingly, unconsciously...  I invited the fog because of the clarity of the new day was hard to touch. Frightened I chose stupidity for a moment. Ignorance instead of enlightenment. Safety instead of faith.

Except there was a song whose melodies saturated past the thickening atmosphere that beckoned me to hear its alluring melody.  It was full of life... It was full of breath... It was full of the sounds of the Lord. Full of the sounds of perfected love that know how to blow the fogs of fear away.

It was the songs of Ezekiel calling forth dry bones to walk again. "Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they come to life."  Upon the air movement.  Upon the atmosphere a wind.  And I could no longer resist the pull of that which resided beyond the fog.

What?

....  That is the question.....

And now it is time to discover...  

I have come from this and this has haunted my dreams and quenched my heart.... This is the picture of Westernized ministry that I have not been able to shed.  The consumption of resources of men and women; their lives, their livelihoods, their marriages, their children, their friends, their very own lives at times....  and men and women paying any price not of the Lord but of lords and allowing men to lord over at any cost for scrap at tables.  Children of God being no more then dogs begging for a seat at a table.

But this is not the story I am destined to tell any longer....

The choice bore down upon me to reach beyond the fog and touch and see that which lay in the distance.  The songs to do so were beautiful and provoking.  The songs were full of life and energy.  The melodies showed my heart the grave and cage that the fog was and beseeched me to touch the reality that it was for freedom not slavery that He came.

So I know not the way but I know The Way.  And He who is called the Light has also called me the light and there is no more hiding.

The terrain of the valley has changed.  No longer do I see the bloodied bodies of those I know spread out upon the fields of religion and ministry.  Their blood soaking the ground and making it red. 

I have tasted and seen beyond the fog and am learning the songs of the new thing.... They are vibrant and tenacious and beautiful and full of life.... When dry bones arise the chorus they sing is an exceedingly strong and penetrating and some what haunting and challenging melody.  For those who have been brought back to life have touched a death that they no longer can allow to enslave them... Theirs is the song of freedom...  

And the keys upon my laptop are singing again............