Time to Wait (Never Wasted)

It’s time to wait
It’s now or never
Is it time to date
Or time to sever?
I don’t know
All I know
Is that I want to be like the tree
in Jeremiah 17.
Christ-centered
Never-nervous
At this point
Words are superfluous

Please, let’s be
like the tree
in Jeremiah 17.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
    whose confidence is in him.
They will be like a tree planted by the water
    that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
    its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
    and never fails to bear fruit.”
(Jeremiah 17:7-8, NIV)

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Dwell

Oh, Lord Jesus
I want to
dwell in Your Living Space
Enclosed, safely
With Your Presence all around me
I want to
dwell in You, Shelter, where
You put me up high
looking down,
yet covered in Your Cloud,
Resting on verdant, verdant hilltops
With Your shade– not harming me,
like the oppressor’s shade is prone to do
But to be at rest
in the near Presence of You

I want to
mount on wings like eagles– dwell on the Beauty of the LORD
let faith arise
let my confidence and stronghold be You,
like impenetrable cement blocks
rising to the skies–
I want to 
rest in Your Unfailing Love
like oceans deep,
dwell in the tides
washing over me

You say that if a man
gains the whole world,
but loses his soul
it profits him nothing
even when he thought the “comfort” he was dwelling in
was something
She can trade money for a Love, grand and astute
But if she bases her confidence on anyone but You
Her confidence will become dust
(Because even the greatest human relationship harbors issues of trust)
And he can build himself up on piles of plastic bags
filled with the latest of fashion, and hottest trending mags
but these things, too
truly provide no shelter to
the one who counts on them–
these things end up in landfills,
never alive but very able to kill
the one who wants to dwell.

 

And then there are those who build their sanctuaries on
multiple degrees and certifications
these, too, are fine and well
but at the core, they cannot tell
what hides inside the human heart–
Your soul can be sold to being very smart
but, you see, knowledge is research-paper thin
The typing and typing will never be enough
For life’s test
Such is the mess
for the one who wants to dwell.

Jesus,
My Jesus,
it was always You.
Your Hands hold the scars
marked by nails I shoved in while trying to build something true.
(You are the best Carpenter, I know not what I do)
You said
You would build my house in heaven— and come and take me to it
Heaven— a permanent place to dwell
With You Forever, no trace of hell
built on Grace, through faith alone
You paid the price to secure my Home!


And so I declare
My Home is You
and no mater what, this is my prayer:
Let me dwell in the House of the Lord, Jesus
–forever–

 

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.'”
(Psalm 91:1, NIV)