My soul longs for You...

Welcome to Our World

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 21:33:00 +0000

This is a beautiful song...

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You've been promised, we've been waiting

Welcome Holy Child
Welcome Holy Child

Hope that you don't mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home
Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven's silence

Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world

Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born
So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy

Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world

(Chris Rice)

He spoke kindly to Her...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 18:21:00 +0000

This is something I started writing the beginning of this semester. The woman in the story is the Church, the man is Jesus. The unborn baby represents the generations to come. Read it from that viewpoint...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The young woman stared at him angrily, with blue eyes that could have scorched a cornfield. He was taken back by her hostility, distrust yes, but not this.

He took a step farther back, kneeling on one knee, as she curled into a tighter protective ball around her swollen belly.

"I promise I won't hurt you, or the baby," he told her softly.

She began crying again, obviously unable to believe his kindness or so overcome by it she couldn't speak. He waited patiently, until her eyes turned towards his again. They were still hostile, but not quite has distrustful as before.

"What happened?" he asked, continuing to be patient.

She slowly sat up, painfully, as if every bone in her body was aching. Bruises covered her cheekbones, and a huge cut marred the right side of her neck. With great effort she began to speak.

" I have no mother, I have no father. The child I bear is not even my husband's. I have no husband. I have no home. I have nothing to call my own. Everything I have has been given to me or taken away by others. Why do you even care to ask me? Can you not see what I am?"

The young man's heart was torn by the despair and absolute finality he felt in her voice. What was even worse was the belief he heard in her words.

Suddenly she doubled over, throwing up all over the ground between them. His first reaction would have been one of disgust, but immediately his vision blurred in a cloud of color. Handwritten words the color of blood on an ancient pages burst before his eyes.

He blinked, trying to see, but they would not leave until he read them.

You will love me.

You will love what I love. Hate what I hate. Speak what I speak. Sing what I sing.

You will love my bride.

As soon as he finished reading the last line, the words and colors vanished and he was staring at the young woman once more.

The young man felt his heart melt. He wanted to bury his head in the dust and beg this woman's forgiveness for all the injustice that had been done to her, for all the lies, bitterness and hatred that had been brought against her with the fierceness of a thousand vengeful dragons. If he could bleed, cry and scream for her, he would.

Instead he bent closer once more," I know you have no reason to trust me, but what if I was your only hope? I cannot be worse than what you have known. What if I have the answer? Can you be willing to risk that?"

She blinked, staring wide-eyed without expression, yet the mistrust had faded from her gaze.

"It may take a while, I know," he continued," but I must tell you that this is not who you are."

"Who are you to tell me such a thing?" she told him, voice sharp and cynical," You don't know me."

Now it was his turn to blink," I know more about you than you may think."

She did not seem to like this answer.

He continued talking ignoring her conflicting attitude.

"This baby your carrying for example. She is not a curse, but a blessing. Do not give birth with heart that only feels derision and frustration at her conception. She is life. In that you must find hope and destiny."

The woman stared at him like he had absolutely lost his mind.

"How do you know it's a girl?"

He shrugged, and held out his hand," Are you going to stand up or not?"

She very slowly reached and slipped her hand into his. He pulled her up, steadying her unstable legs and then slowly turning her towards the river.

"I think you need to drink from the water, before we go anywhere."

She began trembling, and turned her face, against him as if the river had eyes that haunted her.

"What's wrong?" he lifted her face, to see her eyes.

"I don't want to go there."

"Why not?"

"The more I drink, the more thirsty I get. I hate being thirsty."

He stared at her, bewildered.

"With that kind of attitude, you will always be thirsty. You must drink if you will ever find satisfaction."

She glared at him," You don't think I've tried. It's hopeless."

He let go of her hand," How far did you go?"

She blinked," What do you mean?"

He repeated the question.

She shook her head, beginning to cry," It hurt too much."

He gently pushed her ahead of him," I'll go with you. We'll drink together."

She didn't want to go. But with him pushing her, giving her no choice, the young woman slowly walked forward.

They reached the water's edge. She stared down at it like the water's held a nest of poisonous snakes.

He took her hand and knelt first, drawing her after him. He cupped on hand into the cool wetness and brought it to his lips.

"You try," he released her hand, letting it be her choice.

If a shark had just jumped out of the water at her, she could not have looked more frightened. Very slowly she stretched out shaky fingers towards the water. Her gaze shot to him, seeking courage.

" You can do it," he encouraged.

Trembling, she plunged her hand into the water and brought it dripping to her sunburned lips. She swallowed it with a groan, and dropped her hand into the water for more.

"Go as slow as you need to," he told her.

She only leaned closer to the water in response. In fact she began to drink greedily. He reached a hand out to steady her from falling into the river.

Then suddenly she sat back, face wet, glistening, but suddenly beautiful, calm and peaceful. Cuts and bruises had disappeared.

"Where does the water come from?" she asked in a whisper.

He chuckled, rocking back on his heels beside her.

"Do you want to find out?"

She nodded, he stood, giving her his hand. She awkwardly held her belly and rose, leaning against him.

"Then follow me..."

...if I couldn't have you, i'd rather be alone

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 16:04:00 +0000

i think that possibly, maybe im falling for you
yes theres a chance that ive fallen quite hard for you.
ive seen the paths that your eyes wander down
i want to come to

i think that possibly, maybe im falling for you

no one understands me quite like you do
through all of the shadowy corners of me

i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop
i love so much
all of the while i never knew
i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop
i love so much
all of the while i never knew

i think that possibly, maybe im falling for you
yes theres a chance that ive fallen quite hard on for you.
ive seen the waters that make your eyes shine
now im shining too

because oh because
ive fallen quite hard over over you

if i didnt know you, id rather not know
if i couldnt have you, i'd rather be alone

i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop
i love so much
all of the while i never knew
i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop
i love so much
all of the while, i never knew

all of the while , all of the while

I remembered he loved me...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 14:38:00 +0000

It was the way the enemy moved. The way they walked. Talked. Looked. Breathed. Smelled. Smiled.

It was the way the enemy pulled you in, like a seductive woman, teasing you with a temptation only the very strong could resist.
It was the way the enemy pulled the trigger, destroying a soul, that only deserved death, but had been chosen for life.

I watched them die, every day on the battlefield. I watched them die together. I watched them die alone. It was always the same. The same lies they believed. The same stories they told, over and over again. The same defenselessly way they surrendered. Every time nothing changed.

Why? How could this weak enemy have such victory, over people who knew the truth? What possessed some one to embrace darkness over light? Where was the love that had been written on their hearts at birth? Why would they forsake it all, and except so much less?

I cringed every time I saw them go to the front lines. I knew only half would return. A broken and hopeless half. Despair and anguish would weaken them for days, until resolve would grip their hearts, and they would run to the front lines once more. Still fewer would return whole.

It was hard not to scream at them for their blindness. It was painful to remain silent. To remain faceless and nameless among a company of people who should know their own names...the names their king had named them long ago

But I have been where they have been. I know nothing I say will save them.

Only one Voice saves them.

I heard that Voice, it was the only thing that pulled from the enemy's dark and lovely arms. I know what it's like to be saved, what it is like to resist the enemy. I have done it, and it is possible.

I've watched the enemy crumple to dust with their own lies embedded like bullets inside their chests. And I have watched their strongholds go up in flames from one word I spoke that came from the King.

It has never been a question that the enemy can be defeated, the question is how long will we let them think they can't? What price are we willing to pay, to follow the battle plan? Why do we always think we can defeat them with ardor and passion, and forget the wisdom and discipline of our leaders?

I was with the King today, and his heart was breaking for those who are lost. I asked him why he lets them fight, if he knows they will only surrender to the enemy.

He looked at me, with those eyes that burn away all fear and said through tears," Because I know I will get them back."

"But they are hurting," I whispered in anguish.

"I have to give them the choice," he said," if I didn't they could never love me."

I knew it was true. I had made that choice once, more than once, many times over. I knew what it was like to be loved even in darkness by this king. I knew what it was like to discover what I was made for. To love this king...and him alone, forever.

I tried to love other things. Sometimes I thought I'd reached it, that pinnacle of fulfilled desire and longing...always I had crashed and burned, except in loving him. Love with him, only ever ended without an ending....it was eternal.

Fighting for him now was loving him. Loving these people, who turned their backs every day on him was not easy, but because I loved them, and I loved what he loved, my heart broke for their brokenness.

When I trudged with the faithful through the valleys, on hot days, when water was scarce and words were few, I remembered he loved me.

When I cleaned my weapons and blistered my feet from shoes too big for me to wear, I remembered he loved me.

When I endured sleepless nights of watchful anxiety over the enemy's near presence, I remembered he loved me.

When I held a dying child in my bruised arms, I remembered he loved me.

When I forgot, and people disappeared, I remembered he loved me.

When I stumbled myself into the enemy's camp and was often captured, I remembered he loved me.

He would always rescue. He would always forgive. He would never give up.

So when the enemy came, with their beautiful song, their enticing eyes, with their graceful movement and their unrelenting pleasure, I remembered only one thing...He would love me forever.

The battles would one day end. Death would end. The lies would end. Blood would no longer flow, but until then, we were commanded to resist, to arm ourselves, to fight with the weapons of the king.

Whether I ran to the front lines, or watched others go themselves, I was to always remember one thing...he loved me.

He loved them all.

The enemy could never love...and that was why they were already defeated. That was why they tried every thing they could to grab us with false love. It was all they had to offer.

It would never endure.

These people, these soldiers, these children, these chosen ones...they would fall, they would rise, they would fall again, but it was already written....they had been born for life, and nothing can keep back the love of a king.

And I remembered...he loved me. That was why I had been born. That was why we all lived and why we would never taste death. Ever.

Heat. Walls. Hope.

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 16:31:00 +0000

It was the heat, I think, that was the worst of it. The darkness I actually could take. But combine that with a thick, sweltering atomsphere of oppressive heat, the pressure is unbearable.

I can't remember why I am here. I know it was my choice. I wanted it. There is a purpose. A means to an end. There always is. In my life, absolutes are the foundation I walk on.

Things never shift or walk in shadows, there is never a "maybe" or " perhaps", there is only this or that, black or white, hot or cold. It's infuriating at times. What wouldn't I give to have the vague comfort of an abstract meaningless moment. At least it would feel good...maybe.

Yet, somehow, after falling asleep, I had lost all knowledge of why I was here, only the frustrating abstract reminder, that yes, you have to be here. Until, well...it's not quiet clear until when.

That's what sleep must do to you here...numb your senses, stifles your memory, suffocate your desires. I love sleep. I hate sleep.

I know this is bad. I know I'm in for it. Yet, still a part of me knows that this is exactly what is meant to happen. There was no other way to get to my destination. No other way to be challenged. I love challenges, right? I wish I could remember.

It's never easy remembering, maybe that's why I'm glad I fell asleep. Yet I really hate that I fell asleep. Why did I in the first place? The darkness pressed in further, tightened by the heat. I swallowed, realizing I am sitting up now. I of course cannot see, but never the less I know I can move. I stretch out my legs, testing their strength. They are numb, like everything else. I groan and wait until the feeling returns. Fire seems to burn through my limbs. I unsteadily decide to crawl. It wasn't far to the wall. How I knew there was a wall there is beyond me, but it was true. In ten feet I reached it.

It was a stone wall, cold to the touch. It felt good. I press my face against it's hard, coolness and then stood to me feet, leaning against the solid, strength. The oppressive heat still holds me unrelentingly. I am far from good, but the wall is encouraging. Letting a smile drip from my lips, I begin walking slowly, one hand on the rough-cut stones. Walls are dangerous things. Stones are too. But dangerous doesn't always mean bad. Walls protect things. I wonder what this wall is protecting?

I blinked....feeling like I'd uncovered a secret. Was that why I was here? To get inside this wall? Why the heat? Why the darkness? Why did I need to get in?

Nothing matched or made sense. Nothing was black or white, it was all colliding in a mesh of pressure. My chest was starting to hurt.

But one thing it was doing, it was pressing me on to follow this wall. Whevere it led, I would follow. Somehow the coolness of the stones took an edge off the heat. Just a little. This small spark of hope was quite powerful.

A journal entry...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 19:31:00 +0000

So it's been a while since I've posted anything on here. Came across something I wrote in my journal last month and thought it would be something worth other peoples' time...maybe. Just a short little thing I wrote between me and Jesus...once again, a story.

I sat at the foot of the great oak. I knew my forehead was wrinkled in seriousness and that my mouth was turned down in a soft, but thoughtful frown. I could do nothing to stop it. Even when I heard his gentle footfalls on the path along the lake.

I didn't even look up when he crept down and sat beside me. I felt him tip his face to get a good look into mine.

"How's my girl?" he said in his dear familiar voice.Somehow, even this did not take away the edginess inside my gut.

"I don't know," I replied honestly, leaning my chin in my palm and turning to return his gaze. It was as beautiful as always, full of peace. I needed that solidarity.

I shook my head continuing to speak," It's all so wrong. I feel like nothing can truly be fixed in this world."

He didn't smile and his face grew solemn." I know," he paused letting those two words sink deep inside my soul. They gripped me like iron, and then he said," ...you feel like everyone, one way or another is always going to eventually make a wrong choice and we are all waiting on that moment when we do and once it comes nothing will ever fix it. This feels you with dread and despair, you feel doomed."

I stared at him, feeling that dark despair creeping into me even as he spoke. He had said it with such feeling. I knew he felt it too. That thought alone gripped me with terror. If he felt the same way then we all were truly doomed.

Reading my thoughts, as he always did, he then said," I feel every thought and emotion you have, don't think I don't, but I don't believe the lies they tell you. I never believe something cannot be restored. I don't believe in never or in endings."

I blinked, feeling the frustration build, like a dam about to burst. The words he spoke could not quiet me.

"People only see what they want to see, they play games and deceive. How do you know what truth is? Just when you believe, that belief is ripped away with gnawing little doubts. I wish I could save people, you know, I hate what I see. How do you watch it happen? Doesn't your heart break?"

I knew his answer, well, at least I thought I did. I knew also that all of this had nothing to do with me, especially when it came to saving people or making things right, but I was selfish and all I could do was question and rant like a spoiled child.

I took a deep breath, a tear sliding down my cheek. Full of kindness and grace as always, he wiped it away and slid closer, not speaking for an entire moment as he wrapped one arm around my waist, folding me into his chest.

"Every second I breath," he whispered into my ear," but then I sit here with you and I see the sunset and I remember one thing."

"What?" I whispered back, my heart pounding. That was not the answer I expected him to say.

"You are beautiful," he kissed my cheek," and what ever it takes to make you believe that I will sacrifice."

"You are crazy," I replied, closing my eyes even as the words strangely gave me comfort.

"My ways are not your ways," he said softly.

I suddenly felt much better.

A real feeling....

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 19:21:00 +0000

The lights glow with enthusiasm, then dim to a lull of solitude. The voices rise like an assembly, yet each distinctly different. Every sound unique, beautiful and full of pure, childlike peace and contentment. How could life be more satisfying and beautiful then it is right here, right now in this moment? Every little motion and movement is the action of close and intimate, comfortable friends.

A soft smile, a silly laugh, the touch of a hand and the rise and fall of conversation. Everyone is gathered to the gentle rasp of an acoustic guitar, faces raised in beauty, voices yearning with longing. could there really be anything more simple and pure as this?

I write, yet can capture nothing of this moment in time that will soon end as the evening slips by, minute by minute, second by second. How time takes a vicious unrelenting hold on our lives. I wish I could hit the pause button, yet to stop such beauty would be an abomination to it's life. I want to experience a thousand more like it.

Where are the angels, where is the sweet fragrance? Can I hold onto this forever? Do these precious moments just fade. Never...they will continue on for eternity...heaven is waiting with a treasure store of them.

Dance.

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 14:34:00 +0000

When I opened my eyes, the gory battlefield was gone. Instead, a huge meadow spread out all around me. I blinked; my heart beginning to pound. Dazzling white surrounded me, a sea of it. A million white daisies. The sweetest of perfumes filled my senses with a heady richness.

I raised my head, fingers rising from the soft grass under my hands. A gentle breeze blew, lifting my hair off my neck and swirling the aromas around me. I reached up smiling towards the clear blue sky, closing my eyes fir just a moment breathe deeply.

Then my eyes snapped back open as other sensations assaulted me. The pain, wounds, sweat and blood has vanished!

I glanced over my skin and gasped as I saw beautiful, glowing skin, every inch of me! I felt of my face, suddenly giggling.

And then I saw the dress. Simple, white but delicately woven with tiny golden strands. It was perfectly fitted, mid-calf and silky. Small corded straps clung tightly to my bare shoulders holding the bodice in place.

I jumped to my feet, bare feet digging into the ground. The field of daises began to throb with emotion. There was only one thing I wanted to do.

Dance.

Who is this man?

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 15:34:00 +0000

It was only a smile of gentle compassion, yet in that moment the world might as well have flashed like a bolt of electricity through my vision. Why would this man take the time to glance my way with such innocent interest? No one looked at me with such mercy and kindness...only pity.

There was no pity in his blue eyes, only a gut-aching beauty. No one that beautiful had ever looked at me before. I dropped my eyes from his, willing him to walk away...like all the others. Do not give what I do not deserve, I forcefully thought.

Instead, I was shocked beyond comprehension as a voice spoke, a voice I knew was his.

"I saw you sitting here, and I cannot walk on by. Why is your head bowed to the dust? Look at me."

I raised my face, nearly wincing as my eyes met the intensity of his own.

"Why do you want me to leave?"

I blinked as I felt my soul ripped open at his words. Who could smile like he had and then read my thoughts like an open book?

"You do not have to sit here anymore. I've come to take you away."

He was completely straightforward and bold, every thought completely focused on me, with a purposefulness that frightened me. Within seconds my world had changed.

I had said nothing until now.

"Leave while you have the chance, they will come for you, and there is nothing you can do."

His face instantly changed; blue eyes suddenly darkening to a deep-seated passionate anger. The anger was not directed at me, but at the "they" I spoke of. My mind and heart jumped at the strange emotion his response invoked within me.

"I have searched for you for many months now. I do not walk away just walk away. "They" have no power over me, nor do "they" give me fear."

I trembled for a split second and involuntarily drew back as he took a closer step forward.

"Please..." I whispered.

"You have cried out for help," he said softly," This is what it takes. Today is the day."

I curled into a tight ball against the doorway, my hair falling in front of my face. I began sobbing, scared of this man's unfamiliar kindness and strength, yet scared of my captors' terror and oppression just as much.

The man knelt before me on one knee and I felt his hand reach out to brush away my hair.

"I will not leave, tell me, do you want to be free?"

I shrank from his touch, yet slowly nodded.

"Then I want you to do something for me, can you do that?" his eyes probed for an answer with all the tenderness of someone I had never known...a father.

The query in his voice was so trusting it was as if he had no doubt I would do whatever he asked. I shuddered, knowing in my heart I wanted to do nothing. I had always been made to do things, but his voice urged me so earnestly, I found myself nodding once more.

"Give me your hand?" he replied instantly.

I shook, afraid to touch him. He was a man, mens' touch were brutal. Yet my hand slipped into his. His touch was beyond anything I had ever felt. I gasped for a breath, my vision blurring as a searing shot of heat coursed from his fingers into the center of my body. A second strange emotion filled my being, a feeling of longing, of hope and dreams. A picture of a beautiful garden flashed before my eyes, piercing my heart with such desire I thought I would never be able to breath again.

The picture vanished and I returned to the filthy street, kneeling in the dirt, one hand clinging to his blue-eyed man's hand.

My eyes sought his hungrily, like a child's. I realized only he could take me to that garden. I cry escaped my lips and then my vision began to fade again. I felt his hand release mine and then two strong arms lifted me up effortlessly. My head was cradled against his chest.

The last thing I remember before losing conscienceness, was a kind voice speaking in my ear.

"You will be loved as you were created to be."

Thoreau...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 14:27:00 +0000

I'm not at all certain Thoreau has any answers to life or even is on path to truth in any of his writings. However since I spent two weeks reading on him in English class I feel he derserves some recognition. This is my favorite quote of all time and I was surprised when I found out he was it's author.

" I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essentials factsof life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life..."

Only the Beginning of the Beginning...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 14:45:00 +0000

What is this Thing that draws people together in worship? What causes a small group of six to ten young people to sit for hours, late into the night singing songs and praying to a Being most would say we cannot see or hear? What is this mystery? Why do we find such beauty here? Who is this God who places such aching longings in our souls? I cannot give emotion it's honor. This is a reality of who we are at the core of our beings. Yet mind, will ...and emotions central to who we are.

In absolute grace the Lord asks us to surrender them all to His ways. How delightful this is. Are we fools to think such a thing? Never.

Sit with Jesus, in a place surrounded by people whose one desire is Jesus, and very quickly your heart will explode with peace, revelation and awareness of Jesus' voice. It is Jesus in your brothers and sisters that beckons you forward, into His presence, deeper into a steadfast spirit of praise. How does this happen? How did my heart reach this place? I feel full and complete beyond measure. Can I sit here forever? Can these faces and voices remain for eternity. Yet, this is not even scratching the surface of these longings.

Even as I love the atomsphere of fellowship, of joining in love towards Jesus and of continually pouring out sacrifices of praise I feel a urgent rush of more desire flooding my spirit. Heaven is like this. I have no doubt of it, but this is only the beginning of the beginning.

Jesus, create a heart of deeper reality. I never want to be satisfied, but always fulfilled. Hold my heart and whisper to me Your truth. Your truth of what is good and holy. Nothing else will I seek.

I wiil never leave you

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 14:49:00 +0000

I was running down the ancient road my breath beginning to grow thin. The thick darkness of the night was closing in around me like a suffocating blanket. Silent, towering shadows of an old, deeply rooted forest overshadowed starless sky above and around the narrow road.
Fear was radiating through my body in waves of paralyzing strength. My feet ran like rods of steel, slow and heavily. Surely I had nothing to hope for except the dawn. Thoughts of dawn however were infected with disbelief and a disappointment of illusionment.
A cold wind wrapped it's icy fingers around my thinly clothed body. Both feet were bruised from tripping over rocks, roots and potholes scattered across this forgotten road.
I wanted to stop but the fear of stopping overcame my fear of the forest. Where had the day gone? Why was night so long? What would this road lead to?
I felt forsaken.
Tears began streaming down my face. I was alone and would only be able to make it by whether or not I kept my feet moving. The thought of doing this forever made me want to die.
Then, everything changed. Strong arms picked me up with gentle tenderness. A sweet, beautiful voice spoke in my ear.
" I will never leave you."

My song of songs...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 21:09:00 +0000

I sank to my knees in the center of the garden, exhausted and weak from my anguish and mourning. The devastation of the battle, the wounds, the terror, the pain clung to my thin and torn body dust on a wet skin. I was trembling with the intensity of such war and violence upon my soul.
A mangled and bloodied sword fell from my numb fingers as I sank with my head into the grass.

Perfume of the sweetest of aroma erupted through my senses. I smelled it to its fullest, yet could not enjoy or melt into its bliss. My body was so full of hurt and marred with bruises, both physically and within my spirit, I felt as far removed from beauty as a being could be.

I fell to bitter weeping, longing for comfort and completeness, yet feeling as though it was an impossibility that I could never have. Anything that was good would not be for me, not this war-ravaged warrior, who knew only the ache and tension of battle.

But then a voice suddenly whispered in my ear; whispered a name. It was a name I had never heard before, yet my ears opened up immediately in response. The name was my own. My eyes opened as I sucked in a breath from my tears.

Strong, gentle hands cradled my face and through the pain and blur of tears I saw the most beautiful face. It was the face of the man who had declared his love on the battlefield. His very voice had captured my heart. He had followed me into the garden...or had he led me here?

As my eyes locked into his, a calm washed over me. He wiped away the tears with rough calloused thumbs, and kissed my forehead.

" I will follow you to the ends of the earth to show you my love."

I wept softly again, dropping my head, feeling disbelief. How could he love this bleeding, violent and angry young woman. I was not the gentle, loving and kind princess that he deserved.

"Look me in the eyes, beloved," he lifted my chin. I did, once again overwhelmed by his beauty. Physical appearance had nothing to do with it, though he was a powerfully built fighter, whose golden-brown head shone with glory. His face was perfect and flawless.

No, the beauty came from his blue eyes. What I saw there was more love than could be contained within anything or anyone. I was afraid if I stared too long, the very intensity of it would kill me.

Slowly, his hand wrapped around mine and his eyes refused to release mine," This is how I see you," he said in a firm and powerful voice.

The force hit me with a solid gasp. I saw myself in his eyes, mirrored there, full of brilliant light. The scene shone with clear, astounding reality. I barely recognized the girl before me.

I was clothed in the most radiantly white dress. I was dancing in a field overflowing with red roses; roses without thorns. I was barefoot, skin glowing without wounds, blood or even scars. My hair, long, golden, abundant and free.

There was no weariness; pain, fear or sense of trying to be something I couldn't be. I was simply me, yet not me, completely His.

"I want you, you delight me more than a thousand brides," he kissed me gently on the lips. Softly, with his gentle touch, it loosened the tense, hard, toughness of my walls, those thick impenetrable, ugly walls I had placed around me for protection. Through my pain I could no longer keep them there, under the intensity of the longing in his eyes.

My hand slowly reached up to touch his face. This small gesture seemed to ignite an explosion within my lover's being. He jumped to his feet letting out a triumphant shout of joy. I sank back on my heels, staring at him breathlessly.

He threw back both arms wide, smiling with a power that shot like an electrical current through my body. Then he started laughing and threw himself into an insane, though beautiful dance around me.

I glanced down at my arms as warmth followed the electricity. I gasped, as my wounds and pain vanished. His laughter floated like music around me. His voice shattered every little remaining vestiges of pain and hardness within me.

"I love the way you move, every little glance and touch quickens my heart to reckless desire. Every word you speak I listen to with eager expectation. Every pain and hurt I feel as my own. I love you without expectation or rules, only abandonment to see you smile when I kiss your lips and heal your wounds."

I slowly stood, as his words carried into a song, fading from laughter into a melody more intoxicatingly attractive and full of longing than I had ever heard before.

I stopped rising when his dancing stilled and thought he continued to sing, his eyes turned to me and one hand stretched out towards me. I hesitated, listening to His voice, but afraid that if I truly ran to him it would all be a dream.

The garden's atmosphere suddenly quieted completely, except for his voice.

"I have been with you since the day you first were awakened to love. Only I can satisfy...come"

I threw back my head suddenly laughing as I realized it was all so real, just by His voice, it became life. I ran as fast as I could into his arms. I saw him smiling broadly as his arms reached up, swinging me into the air and then into his embrace. With infinite tenderness he kissed me until I could not breath. He cradled my head into his chest, strong arms holding me with tenacious comfort.

"You belong here, forever," he whispered.

I didn't know how he did it, but he had...and I cried once more for sheer joy, receiving a love I could not understand, but knew I was created for and could never live with out.

Justice.

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 03:17:00 +0000

The Lord's eyes are searching to and fro throughout the earth, looking for someone who would cry out and contend for His justice. His heart is burning to find those who will be broken for His mercy concerning the oppressed and those whose voices of have been silenced. He desires to release voices of ones crying in the wilderness, to set the captives free and proclaim the coming of the Lord. He is establishing a throne firmly set in righteousness and justice. He will bring salvation to those who cry out to Him. He will answer the steadfastness of the watchmen and answer their hearts that are fixated on mercy.

Run after Him who holds the heavens in His hand, who has the power and authority of restoring everything and everyone to fullness and beauty. Hold fast to what you have been entrusted with. Proclaim truth into the places of darkness. Reveal the hidden treasures, release understanding into the hearts of men of who God is and how His hearts longs for them.
Pursue a spirit of compassion and justice. Whisper against the violence and watch it crumble, shout against silent lies, see them destroyed!

Isaiah 62

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 21:09:00 +0000

You have a new name
You have a new name
It comes from the mouth of your God
It comes from the lips of your King

And your righteousness go forth
And your salvation is like a torch
It is burning, it is burning
For all the nations to see

And You are a crown of beauty in the hand of your God
And You are a royal jewel in the eyes of the Lord

And your righteousness goes forth
And your salvation is like a torch
It is burning, it is burning
For all the nations to see

You are not forsaken, your are not forgotten
You are not bare

And your righteousness goes forth
And your salvation is like a torch
It is burning, it is burning
For all the nations to see

And the Lord
He delights over you
He delights over you
Like a bridegroom rejoices for his bride
The Lord rejoices over you

And your righteousness goes forth
And your salvation is like a torch
It is burning, it is burning
For all the nations to see

We will not be silent
We will give You no rest
Until Your salvation comes

Wednesday, feb 18, 2009

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 15:43:00 +0000

The campus is humming with it's normal rythmn of life on this Wednesday morning in the middle of the second month of 2009. The sun was rising about the time I stepped out of my dorm at 7:53 am. I wondered why, for the umpteenth time I chose an 8:00 class this semester. Though I can't complain much on this day because we were released from class 30 min early. And this Friday, class is cancelled, which is even better. People are wandering about in various states of sleepiness or energetic energy. I envy those with energy, though I am not that sleepy myself. The food in the bean was good. I ate alone, which is strange experience, but never less a nice refreshing change. Solitude is good thing. I am learning to balance my time between both solitude alone and social time. Both are vitally needed.
Now I am sitting in the middle of astronomy class, bored to death and wishing the clock would move faster. I know I should be listening to the lecture, but I can't focus today. My starbucks coffee is buzzing and the expectation of going back to my dorm is to much for me to force concentration from myself. Another hour and chapel will b here and then two more classes after that.
I think I may be afflicted with middle-of-the-week apathy. I don't think I like it.

The way I see you

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 02:12:00 +0000

I thought I had my freedom
You didn't even ask
It hit me like a shotgun
Like a cannon blast
You are so elusive
Why you gotta be so detached?
But from the corner of my eye
I thought I saw you look my way
Did you see me looking back

Oh, I just want to know...
Baby, do you see me the way I see you?

And why do you give me
So little of you?
I"m out here on thin ice
Hoping I don't break through
You can say you are naive
But I think you know the truth
You've made a prisoner of me
But I'm hanging onto the belief
That my time is almost through

Oh, I just want to know...
Baby, do you see me the way I see you?

(bethany dillon 2005)

Growing...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 16:08:00 +0000

I am so thankful for just being in inadequate right now. For having to face myself and realize I am not all I need, no matter how I try to justify that I don't do that. I am so thankful that the only way I can be adequate is through Him. I am so thankful that He created me to only being complete in being in Him and in nothing else. I love how He sweeps everything from out beneath my feet and says," trust me, I'm gonna catch you without fail."

"You are beautiful mess, and I love putting together all the pieces, and teaching you to delight in the process, because I delight in the process! You desire my heart? This is my heart."

Then His hands suddenly hold me, even as I feel the rush of fear and despair in my free fall. Those feelings immediately turn into absolute confidence and hope. It is not about me. It was never about me, yet it is, but it isn't.

I stop making plans of how to avoid messing up, I stop making plans of how to be perfect, I stop making plans of trying to create myself into what I think I should be...instead I throw myself into the wild, untamed greatness of crazy God is has nothing better to do but draw me into Himself.

That is all this life is about

Longings...

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 18:04:00 +0000

Today is one of those days where I sat up in bed and felt that craving to write, though like always I didn't understand what I exactly was longing for until I was awake another two hours or so. I had to walk barefoot across the creaking, wooden floorboards of the cold house, stir up the fire, turn the gas heater on in the bathroom and glance in the mirror before taking a hot shower. Than I read my bible, played with my sister's cat and peeked into my brothers' room where they still lay soundly asleep. I took out the trash, stored away the last of the christmas decor and then talked to my mom on phone for while. It wasn't until nearly 11am that I realized what I really wanted to do. I was reading an email update on my favorite author, Ted Dekker, and followed a link to his blog, where I read his newest post, and that was when I realized how long it had been since I really sat down to write something, and pour actual deep, gut thought into it. I remembered why I love writing so much...and I remembered my dreams of being an author. I guess in the last few months I've just let it slip away from me. I feel a little broken, now with that realization, feeling as though something has fallen off of me like the arm of the porclain doll might crack and break when dropped.

It is a bit strange admitting this. It is a bit strange wondering how come I'm at this point of rediscovery, even a bit shame that I could forget something to vital a part of who I am. Like I said, I feel broken. Broken however is good, because it makes the fixing process that much more appreciated and loved.

I really wish to just sit down and right out a tale of longing right now, of heaven and children's delights, of angels, maybe even demons and a huge father whose laugh shakes the roof of the house. It makes me smile thinking about it. Wish I could write faster than I do, because I don't have much time to write. I have two and half more days til school starts again. The pressure of seeing how full my schedule already is, leaves me in just a little despair. It's like being in a hot steamy room, and wiping at the window to look outside, but the window just keeps fogging right back no matter how strong your efforts to stop it.

Aw, well, I'll find a way. This longing isn't going to leave now that it has my attention.

Abba's hands....

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 04:06:00 +0000

It was in the way his eyes held me in their gentle blue gaze. That was my first memory of Abba. It was the way only goodness shown from their depths. I wonder how I could remember something so long ago, yet how could I forget? You held me so safely in your arms when I was child. I remember staring at the sky then, for hours, or at least the minutes seemed like hours. That's the way it is when you are a child. I remember staring at the midnight sky, nearly frightened at it's darkness, until you showed me the stars. I never left your arms. It was a game we played. Hide and seek, You did the seeking, I did the hiding and it always ended in one place. In your arms.

I remember running barefoot. You know you are absolutely childlike when the dark soil of the earth's foundations squishes between your toes and it brings giggles of delight from your mouth. Freedom comes in the place of dirt and smiles, of grime and sun-kissed cheeks. I remember watching how you moved and talked, wanting to be like you in everything. It was just that you were perfect, you were better than anyone else. You were more fun, more exciting and more beautiful.

I saw the way you laughed, and tried to laugh like you. I saw the way you made things with your hands and tried to do it too. I saw the way you talked to the puppies, and wanted to do it too. I saw the way you ran, and tripped in attempt to follow. You scooped me up and carried me away with you. I could speak a thousands words, yet it only took one from you mouth to leave me standing in speechless awe. I could stare for hours into your eyes, and never grow tired of their depth.

Where did my wonder go? Where did the innocent delight go? Where did abandonment go? Where did my eyes like yours go? Where did my laugh like yours go? Why do I leave your gaze?
Why do I run after the flowers, without calling for you to come see?

I need your hands Abba, to grab mine and lead me back. I need your hands Abba, to give me delight once more. I need our hands Abba, to give me comfort, to give me protection. Will you surround me now? In this place of absolute brokenness.

This child is reaching for your hands....yearning for you touch...for your presence.

Thankfulness...and friends.

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 02:54:00 +0000

I never thought I would be homesick. This is crazy new sensation for a girl who has been completely happy and content away from home all semester. I don't know what to do with myself. You see my home was decorated for christmas, the lights were twinkling, the fire blazing, the hot chocolate strongly beckoning...it was extremly hard to leave Throckmorton this evening. I just wanted to cuddle up in blanket on the couch with my mom and talk the hours away into the night. I haven't wanted to do that in a good long while.
I discovered somethings about myself during this thanksgiving break. I love and appreciate my family more than I thought, and painfully realized I didn't love and appreciate them as much as they deserve. It has been a beautiful journey of discovering thankfulness this week. I thought I knew what thankfulness was, but God said no, I'm the one who defines thankfulness. I needed a good dose of humility as well.
I discovered a lot of things this week; a lot about how I view things compared to how things truly are. I was disappointed in a lot of ways, but refreshed in discovering Truth. I was blessed by a lot peace and rest....more than likely more rest than anything.

to be continued...

Suddenly, I became aware of the curious lack of Natasha in my personality. Likely because a 21 year old hooligan with an unruly bit of no-shave scruff has taken control of the keyboard. Thanksgiving was marvelous. Approximately 2 cups of Jell-o pudding salad and some macaroni and cheese found themselves semi-permanently located in my stomach. The turkey and stuffing lovingly prepared by the delicatessen workers at Kroger received lodging in my left leg (previously emptied in preparation). The pain started approximately 15 minutes later: it hurts so good. A load of dishes or two later, we all slipped into a carbohydrate-induced comatic state.

As I slowly regained consciousness after a long and extremely comfortable nap, the thoughts crossed my mind: "I hope we have cereal left at my house." This profound moment led me into musings about the true meaning of Thanksgiving. Surely, it can't only be about the stockings, presents, and carols. The Pilgrims didn't have any of those. But I do have some things to be thankful for. God blessed me with an incredible family who happens to love me a great deal. I got to spend Thanksgiving with a friend who loves Jesus more than food. I slept in my own bed. I spent half a week in a state of continual amazement at God's love. Yeah, I have a good bit to be thankful for. Amen.

to be continued...?

it was good. -Ryan

to be continued...?

I...uh...*laughter*...*more laughter*...made peanut butter balls...that's it. That's it. -Ashley

to be continued...

This Thanksgiving (2008) was the first Thanksgiving in the past four or five years that all four members of my immediate family were together to celebrate thanks. Between Chris and I being in college, parents living in Mexico, Chris living in Japan and expensive air-fare, it's been a while since we've broken bread on the particular holidy. This thanksgiving, we admittedly were some distance from the remainder of our family, but nonetheless, closeness and love were felt in abundance. The addition of a new friend, the Ethiopian Tekle Legese made the holiday complete, as a reminder of the timelessness and unbound bonds of family, life and love in Christ.
Simple fellowship and a complete reprieve from many of the stresses often experienced in "regular life" wrapped the blessing in the guise of a holiday, and as such, we were truly blessed.
I thank God now, as the blessings continue; evidenced to me by being presently surrounded by spectacular friends and siblings in Christ. Praise God! - Bob

The Dream of the Rood

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 22:06:00 +0000

(This is one of my favorite poems from English class this semester! It is was written by the same author as Beowulf...I love it.)

Listen! The choicest of visions I wish to tell,which came as a dream in middle-night,after voice-bearers lay at rest.It seemed that I saw a most wondrous treeborn aloft, wound round by light, brightest of beams. All was that beaconsprinkled with gold. Gems stoodfair at earth's corners; there likewise fiveshone on the shoulder-span.

All there beheld the Angel of God, fair through predestiny. Indeed, that was no wicked one's gallows, but holy souls beheld it there,men over earth, and all this great creation.Wondrous that victory-beam--and I stained with sins,with wounds of disgrace. I saw glory's treehonored with trappings, shining with joys, decked with gold; gems hadwrapped that forest tree worthily round.Yet through that gold I clearly perceivedold strife of wretches, when first it beganto bleed on its right side.

With sorrows most troubled, I feared that fair sight. I saw that doom-beacon turn trappings and hews: sometimes with water wet,drenched with blood's going; sometimes with jewels decked. But lying there long while, I,troubled, beheld the Healer's tree, until I heard its fair voice.Then best wood spoke these words:"It was long since--I yet remember it--that I was hewn at holt's end,moved from my stem. Strong fiends seized me there, worked me for spectacle; cursèd ones lifted me.

On shoulders men bore me there, then fixed me on hill;fiends enough fastened me. Then saw I mankind's Lordcome with great courage when he would mount on me.Then dared I not against the Lord's word bend or break, when I saw earth'sfields shake. All fiendsI could have felled, but I stood fast.The young hero stripped himself--he, God Almighty--strong and stout-minded. He mounted high gallows, bold before many, when he would loose mankind.I shook when that Man clasped me. I dared, still, not bow to earth,fall to earth's fields, but had to stand fast.

Rood was I reared. I lifted a mighty King,Lord of the heavens, dared not to bend. With dark nails they drove me through: on me those sores are seen,open malice-wounds. I dared not scathe anyone.They mocked us both, we two together. All wet with blood I was,poured out from that Man's side, after ghost he gave up.

Much have I born on that hill of fierce fate. I saw the God of hostsharshly stretched out. Darknesses hadwound round with clouds the corpse of the Wielder,bright radiance; a shadow went forth,dark under heaven. All creation wept, King's fall lamented. Christ was on rood.But there eager ones came from afarto that noble one. I beheld all that. Sore was I with sorrows distressed, yet I bent to men's hands,with great zeal willing. They took there Almighty God, lifted him from that grim torment. Those warriors abandoned mestanding all blood-drenched, all wounded with arrows.

They laid there the limb-weary one, stood at his body's head; beheld they there heaven's Lord, and he himself rested there,worn from that great strife. Then they worked him an earth-house, men in the slayer's sight carved it from bright stone,set in it the Wielder of Victories. Then they sang him a sorrow-song,sad in the eventide, when they would go againwith grief from that great Lord. He rested there, with small company.But we there lamenting a good while stood in our places after the warrior's crywent up. Corpse grew cold,fair life-dwelling. Then someone felled usall to the earth. That was a dreadful fate!

Deep in a pit one delved us. Yet there Lord's thanes, friends, learned of me,. . . . . . . . . . .adorned me with silver and gold.Now you may know, loved man of mine,what I, work of baleful ones, have enduredof sore sorrows. Now has the time come when they will honor me far and wide,men over earth, and all this great creation,will pray for themselves to this beacon. On me God's sonsuffered awhile. Therefore I, glorious now, rise under heaven, and I may heal any of those who will reverence me. Once I became hardest of torments,most loathly to men, before I for them,voice-bearers, life's right way opened.

Indeed, Glory's Prince, Heaven's Protector, honored me, then, over holm-wood.Thus he his mother, Mary herself, Almighty God, for all men,also has honored over all woman-kind.

Now I command you, loved man of mine, that you this seeing tell unto men;discover with words that it is glory's beamwhich Almighty God suffered uponfor all mankind's manifold sinsand for the ancient ill-deeds of Adam. Death he tasted there, yet God rose againby his great might, a help unto men.He then rose to heaven. Again sets out hitherinto this Middle-Earth, seeking mankindon Doomsday, the Lord himself, Almighty God, and with him his angels,when he will deem--he holds power of doom--everyone here as he will have earnedfor himself earlier in this brief life.

Nor may there be any unafraid for the words that the Wielder speaks. He asks before multitudes where that one iswho for God's name would gladly tastebitter death, as before he on beam did.And they then are afraid, and few think what they can to Christ's question answer.Nor need there then any be most afraid who ere in his breast bears finest of beacons;but through that rood shall each soulfrom the earth-way enter the kingdom, who with the Wielder thinks yet to dwell.

"I prayed then to that beam with blithe mind,great zeal, where I alone waswith small company. My heart wasimpelled on the forth-way, waited for in each longing-while. For me now life's hope:that I may seek that victory-beamalone more often than all men,honor it well. My desire for thatis much in mind, and my hope of protection reverts to the rood.

I have not now manystrong friends on this earth; they forth hencehave departed from world's joys, have sought themselves glory's King;they live now in heaven with the High-Father, dwell still in glory, and I for myself expect each of my days the time when the Lord's rood,which I here on earth formerly saw,from this loaned life will fetch me awayand bring me then where is much bliss,joy in the heavens, where the Lord's folk is seated at feast, where is bliss everlasting;and set me then where I after maydwell in glory, well with those saintsdelights to enjoy. May he be friend to mewho here on earth earlier died on that gallows-tree for mankind's sins.

He loosed us and life gave,a heavenly home. Hope was renewedwith glory and gladness to those who there burning endured.That Son was victory-fast in that great venture, with might and good-speed, when he with many,vast host of souls, came to God's kingdom,One-Wielder Almighty: bliss to the angelsand all the saints--those who in heavendwelt long in glory--when their Wielder came, Almighty God, where his homeland was.

Jesus.

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 03:56:00 +0000

( I began writing something last summer that I remembered today. I decided to finish it, realizing how timely it was because of a song that God has brought into my life this week. I just wanted to imagine what is would be like if I put myself in the time, in that place, in Jerusalem, near Jesus. What would I do? I'm not sure this is a completely accurate portrayal of what I would be like...I might actually have run the other way instead of towards the cross. But know this spoke to me, even as I wrote it. I wanted to post the words to the song (that is the chorus of the song) too before what I actually wrote.)

May I never lose wonder, the wonder of Cross. May I see it like the first time, standing as a sinner lost. Under thy mercy I'm left speechless, watching wide-eyed at the cost. May I never lose the wonder, the wonder of the Cross. (vicky beeching)

Jesus

It was blood I found first. The streets were deserted, filthy with trash from the angry mob that had passed before me. The stones were smeared with a dark long stain. I knelt, one finger to the street, brushing the still-wet substance. My finger came away a deep red.

I closed my eyes, a terrible pressure tightening my chest, bearing down in a pain that threatened to explode. Full of dread, I rose, following the trail of blood; tears involuntarily dripping down my cheeks. Why were they doing this too him? Why?

I spotted a beggar on the street, hands outstretched. I rushed to him, grateful for someone, anyone to tell me the truth...truth I did not want to hear, but was desperate for none the less.

“What has happened? Where all the people, where is Jesus?”

I nearly shouted at him, the poor man. He cowered and pointed one claw-like hand towards his left. “To Golgotha, my lady. They mean to crucify him.”

I stepped back as if slammed into an iron wall.

No!“How long ago?” I managed to ask in a voice weak and lifeless.

“Only just. The crowd was here two minutes ago.”A small measure of hope pierced my mind.

Perhaps I could reach him in time. I thrust a gold shekel into the ragged man’s hands and took off in a sprint down the cluttered thoroughfare. His cries of gratitude fade amidst the pounding of my own heart.

I didn’t hear the crowd until two hundred yards later. My breath was ragged and lungs bursting, but I pressed on, beginning to pass scattered groups of people.They stared, no doubt surprised to a see a young woman running through the market streets. I ignored them, as the crowd’s roar began to heighten. I reached the first fringes, just as they neared the gates to the city.

“Let me through!” I screamed, weaving through the growing mob.Someone tried to shove me over, but I kept my feet and ducked through four porticoes and slipped through the gate.

Horrendous shouts, the foul stench of unwashed bodies and animal dung filled the air, mingled with dust and sweat.

“Please, I must get through!” I pleaded, pushing now in a frenzy.

I fell to my knees once, the stones scraped through the fine linen of my tunic. It stung violently, but I took no notice, nearly crawling. I found a way to the nearest building and pulled myself up. I pressed forward once more.

The crowd’s faces were full of hideous expectation, as though some spectacular play was about to flash before their eyes. My face no doubt was stricken with grief. I felt dizzy, my vision blurred. Was there anyone who cared?

I was nearly to the outer gate now, the momentum of the crowd was beginning to carry me along with it. The crack of the bullwhip was the first hint that I was drawing close. I knew he had already been beaten. I had seen crucifixions before. I knew what they were doing.My tears had calmed. I knew only one thing. I must see Jesus.

More pushing and pleading and almost near shoving got me fifty feet closer. I could see wooden beams being carried above the crowd’s heads. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp and rushed headlong into the remaining crowd, until the men carrying the beams came into sight.

Jesus was not there. Hope lashed out with its bitter gust as I suddenly clung to the thought that his sentence had been reversed. But then I saw him, struggling behind the first cross beam, which was being borne by another man.

Someone was carrying his cross!

I swallowed tears of gratitude at the youth, who’s face was pouring with blood. Apparently he had been struck across the forehead. Then I turned my eyes on Jesus.It was the most ghastly of sights. I began to cry once more as I pressed closer, trying to get in step beside him.

His skin was covered in blood, his clothes hung in tatters, sticking to the open gashes and wounds gaping across his back and arms. I covered my mouth in horror as I realized pieces of skin were hanging from his tunic.

His face was still turned away. I knew it must be a horrific sight as well. Floggings disfigured and crippled men for life.

“Jesus...” I whispered, now within ten feet of his labored journey.

His head, glistening with blood, and painfully crowned with a mocking wreath of jagged thorns, turned towards me.

I sobbed in intense anguish as his one good eye, amidst a mangled mass of bloodied flesh stared back at me. The other eye, I saw was swollen shut, a purple lump.

“Jesus.” I breathed, gazing into his eye.

His brutalized appearance vanished as that one eye fixated itself on me. He consumed all other thoughts.It was as if I was being transported back to that time when I first saw him on the temple steps. He’d consumed everything then as well. Every thought, every breath, every movement.

“Jesus...” my voice came out as a pitiful whimper.

I once again saw my life flash before my eyes. Every little detail with startling clarity, yet through it all overwhelming love consumed my being. Like that day on the lake it knocked me to my knees. I wanted to die. If they killed him, I knew my life was over. I could not live without him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. I saw the pain, the anguish, the weight of a thousands lives, but I saw something else...determination. He was going to see this through, til the end. His last words to me the morning before echoed in my grief ravaged mind.

...I must follow my Father’s will...

I didn’t like this Father he talked about. This powerful being who was making Jesus do such a horrifying thing. I wanted to scream at someone. Anyone. Only a stifled gasp poured from my lips.

“Get up,” said Jesus, in a garbled voice,” This is not the end.”

My eyes gazed at his mutilated face, unable to stand up.

“Get up,” he repeated, and then struggled past me as the soldiers shoved him on.Without knowing how I found myself rising and following, with less urgency than before, but with the same passionate force. In twenty minutes we were outside the city. Numbness had settled around me. I wanted to flee, to escape, yet I wanted to stay. I must stay.

The crosses were being raised on the hill by the time I reached Jesus once more. His screams were the only screams I heard as the nails went through hands and feet of the sentenced men. I was weeping now, beyond control.I stopped within twenty feet, near the edge of the hill, as the cross was raised. All I could see was the blood on his shaking body. I wondered how much more he had left. His eyes met mine once more, even as he shook in agony. I wanted to run again, but I had already fallen to my knees. I would not leave until he breathed his last.

“Why?” I moaned over and over again.Staring into his face, the answer slammed into my chest with a weight heavier than darkness.

...It is for you...

“No!” I screamed,” NO!”I tore my eyes away, unable to look at him any more and covered my face in shame.

Cold dread ripped into me, yet even as it did, warmth flooded my body.

...I love you this much...

The shame faded, receded like the tide going back to the sea.

...you are worth it...

And then I wept for joy. I wanted to stop myself, but couldn’t. Jesus wouldn’t let me

Week Eight: The Heart of a College Student...be courageous.

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 21:17:00 +0000

" Every place on which the sole of your foot treads, I have given it to you...No man will be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you. Be strong and courageous, for you shall give this people possession of the land which I swore to their fathers to give them. Only be strong and very courageous; be careful to do according to all the law which Moses My servant commanded you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, so that you may have success wherever you go. This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it; for then you will make your way prosperous and you will have success. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:3, 5-9

Week Seven: The Heart of a college Student...as a child.

mysoullongs4you@yahoo.com (Natasha) — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 03:17:00 +0000

Its back to you and Me.

God is drawing me, pulling me after Him, showing me His heart...showing me my heart. My heart is not the prettiest thing. I don't like having to dig down inside of it. I don't like being shown what motivates me. I don't want to real. But God is not giving me a choice. Like a garden He is walling me in on all sides, hemming my way, giving me no rest, no escape. I have no other option. He wants me, all of me.

He wants me to be His child again, His baby girl. He is beckoning me to come after Him, to play in His garden, to release everything in abandonment, to let nothing worry me. How much can I trust Him?