Once upon a time

He created us with his hands.

For the very first time, 

dust had the highest price.

Cause this his creation, his very own craft

Will one day cost him his son’s life. 

Can’t wrap my head around this but, 

But like holding on to hot coal,

Why would he hold on to something that could betray him?

Knowing perfectly our tendency to sin, 

He looked at what he had created and still called it GOOD!

Now that’s some serious validation happening out here.

The King of kings confirmed your authenticity .

Quality stuff, he’s vouched for this.

No need for a second check, he never lies.

So… It’s no surprise that every time we are broken or hurt, confused or depressed and every time we seek a rebound,
Our natural cycles bring us back to him.

Cause we crave someone who knows us, who sees our worth, who will always care and won’t repel, or be disgusted by how messed up we are.

Deep rooted in our subconscious he’s our “Perfect Rebound”

But unknown to us, 

His presence plus our pretense sparks a chemistry. 

Pretense because when our hands are lifted up as we sing “all I need is you…”

 All we really trying to say is 

“God he walked away. It hurts. Now it’s left with me and you”

Yet still he graciously takes us into a place where worship becomes intimately intriguing as we let go of all our defenses and find strength in someone greater than us and our insecurities.
Patiently we are sweetly influenced with love, joy and peace; 

Turning our Rebound to a Re-Bond.

We couldn’t ask for more. 

I wouldn’t ask for more. 

For who can best restore us to our purpose than God – Almighty.
It’s no surprise that every time we are broken or hurt, confused or depressed and every time we seek a rebound,

Our natural cycles bring us back to him.


Come High Water

It feels like the world waits patiently for the time when you can be thrown into the ocean. 

We experience this at different times in our lives but it’s almost inevitable.

More like a norm. A ritual . It has to happen.

You are thrown to the ocean regardless of whether you can swim or not. 

No one considers whether you were taking swimming lessons and haven’t completed yet.

Whether you won your last competition or never had the opportunity to see a pond of water. 

You are thrown in anyway and whatever you do to survive is up to you.

The moment your body touches the water, you realize what is happening.

The sudden changes in mediums and temperatures could be overwhelming.

From the sunny sea shores to the cold waters. 

“What to do? What to do?” … “Is this how I die?”

The questions are barely asked when the storms take over. 

This experience changes people.

“I must rebel against the waters. That’s the only life left.”

Soft spirits begin to transform. Reacting to the cruelty of the waves.

Fear floods your system. Fighting is the only way but you don’t know how.

In the panic of the moment you paddle your limbs in all directions.

… and then it happens. You get exhausted and tired from fighting back the rough waters .

It’s only at this point that you notice a plank of wood right next to you. Your rage had made you blind to a chance for rest.

This is where I currently am.

Gased-up and writing from one end of the plank. A place to pause and reflect. 

It’s here I get a clearer view. There are two kinds of people in this ocean.

Those that are controlled by the waves of the sea. They are changed by their experiences at sea. Hopelessly moving in the direction of the winds. Staying upset in their vulnerability to the storm.

Then there are those who know who they are and never lose sight of this. They were born for this. 

To them, every scary stormy night or red burning eyes from long hours under water 

gives them reason to keep going because at some point the sea gets calm again.

 Soon the bullying waters become their slaves as they master the art of surfing towards the storms.