Change. Excruciating and free. Falling but sustained. Seen and unveiled. And so it continues, with a quick moving world, comes a generation of Spirit lead followers. Neutral in opinion and surrendered in reputation. Resilient through temptation, unashamed in dependence. Change. 

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You are standing in a place you have never been before. A soft veil of silk covers you from things you are not yet invited to see. It shields you from the burning light by day, and the knowledge of shadows by night. It comforts, caresses and tempts your being to be satisfied.

Atop a skyscraper you survey the land. Seeing only what the veil allows. The beauty, the familiar, the resting in all that has been, and all that will be. You are loved, you are safe, you are being given all you need for all that has been asked of you.

The wind picks up and your veil begins to show signs of retreat. You hold it in place, knowing that if it is lost, not only will you see differently, but be seen differently. Seen as week, inferior, seen as disposable by the world, in your undeveloped being, and tainted spirit. Fearful of misrepresenting... lost position... questionable calling. 

Knowing the wind will steal your veil on the rooftops, you retreat to the land. Surly the street will offer some refuge from the elements. 

You descend through the floors of the building. Anxiety, fear... no, terror works its way up your spine, bypassing your mind, settling in your heart... takes stock where it has no business. At ground zero you exit the building. Holding your veil, desperate to shake the feelings you experienced in your decent. Pushing open the exit, all becomes lost. A gust of wind leaves you veil-less. And in an instant all is exposed. 

Before you, the world goes on... self obsessed and needing it's next entertainment fix. Insulted, you continue. With your veil gone, you survey the land once again, awaking to all that the veil had stolen, compelled by all that has been, convicted of what could be. You are loved, you are safe, you are being given all you need for all that has been asked of you. 

As you again survey the lay of the land, a cloak of illuminating transparency settled over your being. She calls out to you as if the storehouse of heavens wisdom have brought spring rains to renew the land within. The cloak preserves you; humble in transparency, shrewd in application, and pure in commission. 

Territory expanding with trust. Change has come, and in this new place you are surrendered. 

As if in a movie captivated by slow motion, your veil dances with the wind, waving goodbye to you in your new threads. All that you have ever needed, given at birth. Awareness that your cloak that has changed sizes from conception. Marked with His seal in the depths of your being before the foundation of the world was breathed to life. Hemmed in, before and behind. You are home.

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Change. Excruciating and free. Falling but sustained. Seen and unveiled. And so it continues, with a quick moving world, comes a generation of Spirit lead followers. Neutral in opinion and surrendered in reputation. Resilient through temptation, unashamed in dependence. Change. 

Letter to my child...

I see your search. I watch you watching others, and I know what you think, how you think and what you say before you say it.

I know you fear trust, to care too much, hold too tightly onto the things that have hurt you. To give another change in the hopes of my redemption grasping their heart, their home.

I know it is too much for you to imagine the closeness that I hold inside of you. That we are one, but you are you, and are slowly being convinced that becoming like me is your only option... death to self a sacred, proven path.

I see you strive, when all you are today is all you will ever need to be. We are enough. I see you crawl, when flying has always been an option. I see you try to hide, when you shine so bright in this world, surrounded by darkness.

I see your questions when mysteries cannot be pealed back from behind hidden skies... confusion when walking through the valley's with no answers... but here, outside of time I know you in the end, and hold you on the other side... this moment a mere pinprick on your lifespan in eternity.

I see demons bow, and angels kneel when your heart is mine. And on the days you feel far from me, on days when this fallen place pushes and pulls, and pain distracts, I am still no farther away then the blood that pulses through your heart, as I dwell deeply and richly in the ones I have chosen...

And you are chosen. Bought, paid for and have the deposit to prove it. This shell you show in the physical is not forever... your true beauty bursting forth and flows from my heart... the one who holds the oceans in the palm of my hands.

Let me hold your tears, and carry your sorrow. And as a child waits for the return of ice cream after a cold, hard winter, anticipate my return. In the Spring fog, and low laying clouds, anticipate my arrival, the mystery, the word, the saviour in human form once again.

I am with you, I have never left you, and will never leave you.

Behold, I am making all things new...

There is always the one in bare feet, with light streaming in on them, warming... exposed to the elements... open, bare, transparent... while others remain safe and warm in winter boots, only expecting the enjoyable parts of the next season to arrive, or perhaps worse... hoping this season will never change, with the knowledge that they always do.

We know for the beauty of a season to be breathed into life, other elements must also be present. For every new leaf, the shedding of  a hard protective shell... for every flower in bloom, the violence of a storm... 

We become accustomed to what has always been... all of us. But there is the One who whispers us forward, "behold, I am making all things new." No system, no institution, nothing we can do, or have done, will remain. 

... where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away... for we know in part, and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears... faith, hope and love...these three remain.

Seasons are in part. Winter cannot be Summer nor Fall be Spring. We operate in part. 

When the next season arrives, we must be prepared, open and willing to know how to receive. Receive, not manufacture... for it is not us making all things new. Receive, as God walks the path before us, and beckons us with the ways he has gifted, to join where He has prepared the work He will complete in and through us, with Him. With eyes wide open, we must anticipate, embrace its arrival, and dress accordingly to move where He will carry us next.

This does not mean our feet no longer walk the land, as gravity in the Word roots our earthly shells to the ground, reminding us of our call... It simply means we operate in part, each of us. Some in rubber boots, others with feet bare... bearing each what He has gifted us in for this season. 

Father help us to dress according to the seasons. As you make all things new, let us know it is a newness that first begins within, and spreads like wild fire to bring about life through the storm and as it passes. Give us your eyes to see as you do, and allow us to do nothing that will not remain. Give us the faith of things not yet seen, hope that endures any storm, and bathe us in a love that permeates every temporal part we need to walk through. We long to be complete, as we are in you already outside of this space,and this time. Amen.