Asking you, asking me . . .

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly

Does your faith-life even require Jesus?

Got the maxims memorized.

Got the rules down.

Is religion more your bulwark than relationship—

behavior and image more important than face-falling service,

open-hearted devotion to His worthiness?

Has purpose surpassed person?

Maybe it’s time to re-evaluate this substance-hoped-for idea.

Are we a scattered and lost flock, devoted to a text but without a message?

I think I would rather falter on a rough road than walk resolutely down a worn and wrong path,

stuck in a form of obedience . . . but without a desperate, clinging trust.

My will is contrary to my dedication;

my rituals supplant my connection, offering a form without reality.

Am I so right-on religious that as a Christian I can do this thing without Jesus?

*****************

Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. ~Psalm 51:10

I want to do…

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Living on the Wildflower Side!

These are some pics from last year. I am hoping to head out to those hills again soon.

Apronhead

There have not been many wildflowers on the valley floor, but the hills are alive with color!

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The Happy Hikers

 

 

 

For a fellow Wordpess blogger–a Fungi!

How’s this, Tootlepedal?

My Book of Uncommon Prayers: Purify

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly

Purify my crooked little heart, my tired heart, my heart so full of idols.

May I seek You with my whole weeping heart in these days,

these seeing-only-one-step-ahead days,

these tearfully trusting pavement-beating moments

when I hold on to fragile faith.

Lord, shine through will and world and cover me.

My Book of Uncommon Prayers: Idols

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Piggy Back

A Feeble Fable (Or a Fable for the Feeble)

Apronhead

I laid out my blocks so carefully, meticulously fitted for function and form. And I sat back, pleased with my plan and product. But then,

the wind blew, and the lightest fixtures fell and broke in the falling. And big, hurried feet stomped by, almost unaware that I had even been building. And the sight left

was a crumpled mess, and

I wept

that all the work was in vain. It seemed so useless. Why did I even spend my time thinking and building when nothing lasted of my effort and imagination?

In my pain, I fingered my trampled treasures. Did I have the will to try again? I wasn’t sure.

But one by one, I pulled blocks and pieces from the mess and tried to make order from the brokenness. This time, I thought, I will not take so much time.

I’ll not think so much—maybe just bump color…

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Another Fun Beach day

 

Soft Dappled Mornings

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly

Soft, dappled mornings

where the intertwining of world and Word is evident in the smallest of things,

where color and line and breath mingle with praise,

and though problems persist,

and though pain still scars, there is

in that fleeting moment

happiness and peace.

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But a Reflection

Apronhead

A reflection, broken, ever changing: We live here bound to the deep, layers upon layers,
sometimes muted, sometimes shimmering,
so real, so seemingly solid.
But reflection will not bear the weight.
Its wonder is what it mirrors—the real, the solid, the lasting.
Look up!

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