Author: kwyatt1247

the weight of glory

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

Preface: I’ve been learning about the glory of the Lord recently. These are just my honest thoughts about it. They’re messy and confusing to read through, but I needed to write them down. Also, usually by doing so, I can turn them into a poem easier. 

“Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice ‘Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?’ And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. And one of the elders said to me, ‘Weep no more; behold the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David has conquered so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.’” Revelation 5:1-5

I’ve been learning more about the glory of the Lord: the magnitude of his limitless power; the astronomic diversity his presence manifests itself; his incomparable holiness that brings man, made of iron and dust, falling to his knees- the weight of his glory.

This is the first time I do not haste when I take a drink. Instead I let the living water touch my cracked and bleeding lips and saturate my skin as I feel matter itself rush down my throat. I drink and I’m satisfied.  I feel the Spirit stirring in the atmosphere, making his presence known and the glory of the Lord illuminate the greyness I often feel. Reflections of light are dancing on the surface of this water because it’s alive.

Because it brings life.

I know this to be true, and that’s why the revelations of holiness concede justified anger. There are so many times when I throw a royal fit and I scream and kick and beat my fists against his solid chest of righteousness because I don’t understand how my loving and gracious Father can let love die between a couple of twenty years, can let a woman taste the force of a man’s fist, can let children be eaten up by their own stomachs…

The list goes on. I don’t comprehend.

Come into play: free will. Not just me, but every single person on earth that has ever lived, lives, and will ever live, has the gift of free will and whether we like to believe it or not, the way I exercise my freedom will often affect your life and vice versa. My God isn’t an advocate for violence or hunger or suffering. He’s an advocate for freedom; He’s given us the freedom to live as we choose.

There is blood on my hands.

But God.

I choose you and I say ‘I do.’ I’m draped in robes of righteousness. I take the weight of glory on as my own, my responsibility to magnify, and it becomes even more pressing. It’s hard to breathe and hard to stand. Your weight of glory is so heavy, God, and I am to bear it? But this weight of glory is something my hands cannot weigh or hold for its overflowing abundance of holiness is something that burns me to the touch. My eyes cannot see it for it is blinding. It’s not a matter of a lacking in human capacity- it’s a matter of humans simply can’t.

It (You) cannot be defined. It (You) cannot be limited.

Come into play: faith.

C.S. Lewis said “This is why He warned people to ‘count the cost’ before becoming Christians.” I’ve learned that this is a radical man’s faith- one that goes against every natural instinct I have. I’ve learned I’m in love with a lamb that is also a lion. I’ve learned there will be a wedding day, but first a war, and like with any war, there will be casualties. I’ve learned that the more I fall in love with the flawless, holy, immaculate character; I discover just how depraved, corrupt, and perverted I am. I’ve learned although I will spend my time in this present flesh striving to reflect your pure blinding light- a light void of darkness- it will never be so.

I remain unworthy.

But that’s why I’m here: because I know you’re the only one who is. It’s a hard process I don’t fully understand, and I can’t articulate it beautifully, or simply, or even at all.  I can’t measure the weight of his glory. And sometimes it sucks. It sucks to play the role of “believer” when all I want to be is the “seer,” but my God, it’s worth it.  For one day, I will see.

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

paralysis

It’s like this: you aren’t aware of your paralysis until someone for some bizarre reason, visits you in the hospital. And you see them move and dance in a way that fully believes in the hands of God to lead them; effortlessly. At this moment, you crawl out from under the hands of gravity. It loses control of your body as your heart falls to your stomach and your head floats. You want the same effortlessness.

So you learn. In fact, they’re the ones to teach you, returning day after day. They’re patient in the way their hands move with your body, knowing it’s hard to believe in something you have never known to be there. They teach you how to breathe.

But one day they don’t come. The next day, they don’t either. Nor the day after. Waiting at the door doesn’t stir their affections, scratching at it only makes them more irritable. You develop a cough.

You begin to doubt if you will ever learn how to breathe and dance in the breath of God, for no one taught you. You attempt to teach yourself and it’s awkward and clumsy as you stumble around with a disheveled appearance, trying to figure out what in the hell it looks like to not care so much. You cough.

But you learn. At least, you think you have it down, until they return.

You’re a victim of paralysis and you wonder if you ever knew what a verb was in the first place.

You cough.

there’s more than one type of tree

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

We praise our creative God for the mountains and canyons, for the oceans, forests, beaches, and watercolor sunsets and sunrises, for the unfathomable amount of living things on this earth, yet with the same breath we curse His creativity because we don’t look like the person we compare ourselves to.

help them grow as you have grown

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

One thing I’m learning about dating someone who is creative (dating anyone, really) is they need support always. Even if what they’re showing you is from years ago when they were kids, support them by watching it and encouraging them in how far they’ve come, for that was the bud of their soul seeing if it was safe enough to grow.

(And they’ve found that it was.)

offerings

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

Remember how Jesus takes the small amount of bread loaves and fish to feed and satisfy thousands of people?

He does the exact same thing with the little things we lay at His feet. A slice of pie? A cup of coffee? A spontaneous visit to the florist? Every single time.

Every moment of our lives are just little offerings. Our moments are to us what the bread and fish were to that fisherman. We need to go to the Lord and offer him our little moments and expect him to feed thousands, including us.

~ kwyatt1247 ~ 1 Comment

I have flashbacks about you. As if our relationship was some kind of traumatizing accident, two galaxies, fashioned by the hands of God Himself, and when we collided, our worlds swallowed each other. Some of your stars still burn with me, little flashes of light whenever I look at the sky a certain way.
But I’m hoping they’ll die soon.

~ kwyatt1247 ~ Leave a comment

the words goodbyes are made of.
We sat on the swings as I gave you a gift that floated through the air, twirling its way through your hair and hitting you in the chest like honesty always does, wrapped in ‘um’s’ and ‘like’s’ but in one unique ‘thank you for loving me & reminding me that life is worth fighting for.’
And then we kissed and our smiles fell into each other in some sort of way that finally gives you the ‘aha!’ wonder of what it feels like in the movies.
(You come to find, it’s better than the movies.)
When I first felt that raindrop on my skin, it was as if Heaven was letting me peek through her fingers to see my surprise: a beautiful warm summer shower. My hair began to plaster to my face and your hair only seemed to curl more, as the summer shower turned into a torrential downpour. The sky opened up and boy, did she sing.

It was the moment when you said “you taste like rain” and I burst into a delightful holy laugh that I knew fifty years from now, I would want to remember this moment like it was yesterday.
But then–
You said “things can only get better if they change.” So we walked back to the car as tears chased after then raindrops on my cheek. All I could do was let them fall, and thankfully, you let them fall on you. Even as my mascara seemed to trail behind, over my nose, up to my eyebrow, across my cheek, and settling in to your shirt, you didn’t mind; you called me ‘beautiful’ just the same.
But I couldn’t stop it. The fears came just as quickly, spilling out like smoke from my throat- so this, this is what has been choking me- filling up the car, blinding me from seeing truth. But you spoke and where the light is, the darkness can not comprehend it. It was gone.
I saw you only to see me in the reflection of your eyes, an absolute mess but loved nonetheless. Then you pulled me in, a florist with gentle hands (& smiling eyes), leaving with ‘I believe in you, fearless.’