Just a carpenter - who saw the menial day to day life of work and surviving from the common and the meek.
Just a carpenter - who learned how to take a raw, rough timber and create a strong and magnificent instrument.
Just a carpenter - who sat in the crowd and heard the week to week musings of the priesthood he would eventually school.
Just a carpenter - who could with tender precision smooth out even the knots of any board and make them fit for great use.
Just a carpenter - who with words could paint a story like the enriching color of stain on a masterful creation.
Just a carpenter - who was King.
©Kristen Garcia July 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
It's always the little ones. . . .
It is never really the big dreams that are the hardest to keep sight of.
It is the smaller dream. The one that every now and then you come close to truly holding in your hand that are sometimes the toughest ones to fight for.
One moment you look and the path to its full realization is in view, and in the moment it takes to breathe it is gone.
The small dreams are the closest dreams. The ones you can almost reach out and touch. The easiest ones to pour your entire heart and soul into - and yet - the dreams that when gone, crush you the deepest.
It is easy to abandon the small dreams. The ones you get a taste of. The ones you can see right in front of you.
To keep the large dreams out beyond the Now means as much as you pour into them, there is also the knowledge that they are so far out that the setbacks do not crush you, only motivate you to try another avenue.
Its the smaller dreams that when crushed make you wonder if the grander dreams are possible. That if these small things - so imbedded in your heart - are crushed one after another after another how will it be possible for even greater to come.
At what point do you finally abandon what is in your heart? What is that last crushing blow?
It is the smaller dream. The one that every now and then you come close to truly holding in your hand that are sometimes the toughest ones to fight for.
One moment you look and the path to its full realization is in view, and in the moment it takes to breathe it is gone.
The small dreams are the closest dreams. The ones you can almost reach out and touch. The easiest ones to pour your entire heart and soul into - and yet - the dreams that when gone, crush you the deepest.
It is easy to abandon the small dreams. The ones you get a taste of. The ones you can see right in front of you.
To keep the large dreams out beyond the Now means as much as you pour into them, there is also the knowledge that they are so far out that the setbacks do not crush you, only motivate you to try another avenue.
Its the smaller dreams that when crushed make you wonder if the grander dreams are possible. That if these small things - so imbedded in your heart - are crushed one after another after another how will it be possible for even greater to come.
At what point do you finally abandon what is in your heart? What is that last crushing blow?
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Conflict my heart
I'm a funny sort, middle ground is rarely found.
I'm the kind that plays for keeps. The kind that goes all in early on knowing that I could lose everything, but, somehow, after losing what I toss into the pile time after time I still go all in.
And, as much as there is a blessing living an all-in type of life, there is also the other side of my quirky self - the side of me that tries to avoid the full brunt of the pain of losing it all again by growing hard.
It forces a conflict in my heart - one that wavers from one extreme of trying to remain through familiar pain, a repeated cycle of loss, stoking the fire of my faith and hope to see the end of what I believe has been said and just not caring anymore and shutting my heart down.
How I have continued to love people when most have walked away, forgotten, and by their actions, or lack thereof, have shown me just where I have fallen as a memory in their life is beyond comprehension. It is one of the small miracles of God that cannot be discounted.
To continue to love when there is no reason my heart should even have a place of softness left, let alone to still go all in hoping that this time it will be different - a small miracle of infinite grace.
A prophet said to me a couple of years ago that I was not understood, and because of that I was very isolated. She told me that very soon I would begin having people around me who understood me and my isolation would not continue on.
I have just begun to enter in that phase in my life. It took over 3 decades, and two years of waiting for that prophecy to manifest, but its happening. I still cannot fathom how I have been able to not become a completely cynical and hardened 'lovely' human being.
There are still some realms in limbo, and I do still waver between all hope and saying to myself that I have to hold out, the end is worth the journey and f*it, I'm done - knowing that by doing that I could jeopardize all that I have wanted for my life, let alone the plans God has laid out.
Thankfully, the moments of conflict that hit my heart do not result in a final decision of 'I'm done', although sometimes it's hard. Hope and faith are not easy choices, not by far, but - they are the better choices - the right choices.
Believe at all costs - call things as if they are not yet in existence. The promises are sure, worth the heartache of waiting because when they do arrive, the revelation of their worth reveals the why the cost of the wait was so great.
Believe and Know- at all costs.
I'm the kind that plays for keeps. The kind that goes all in early on knowing that I could lose everything, but, somehow, after losing what I toss into the pile time after time I still go all in.
And, as much as there is a blessing living an all-in type of life, there is also the other side of my quirky self - the side of me that tries to avoid the full brunt of the pain of losing it all again by growing hard.
It forces a conflict in my heart - one that wavers from one extreme of trying to remain through familiar pain, a repeated cycle of loss, stoking the fire of my faith and hope to see the end of what I believe has been said and just not caring anymore and shutting my heart down.
How I have continued to love people when most have walked away, forgotten, and by their actions, or lack thereof, have shown me just where I have fallen as a memory in their life is beyond comprehension. It is one of the small miracles of God that cannot be discounted.
To continue to love when there is no reason my heart should even have a place of softness left, let alone to still go all in hoping that this time it will be different - a small miracle of infinite grace.
A prophet said to me a couple of years ago that I was not understood, and because of that I was very isolated. She told me that very soon I would begin having people around me who understood me and my isolation would not continue on.
I have just begun to enter in that phase in my life. It took over 3 decades, and two years of waiting for that prophecy to manifest, but its happening. I still cannot fathom how I have been able to not become a completely cynical and hardened 'lovely' human being.
There are still some realms in limbo, and I do still waver between all hope and saying to myself that I have to hold out, the end is worth the journey and f*it, I'm done - knowing that by doing that I could jeopardize all that I have wanted for my life, let alone the plans God has laid out.
Thankfully, the moments of conflict that hit my heart do not result in a final decision of 'I'm done', although sometimes it's hard. Hope and faith are not easy choices, not by far, but - they are the better choices - the right choices.
Believe at all costs - call things as if they are not yet in existence. The promises are sure, worth the heartache of waiting because when they do arrive, the revelation of their worth reveals the why the cost of the wait was so great.
Believe and Know- at all costs.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Promises, Promises
In the blink of an eye we can be forced to look ourselves in the mirror and ask:
'Do I truly trust?'.
Life can change in a breath. Between one heartbeat and the next something can blindside us and we have to decide whether or not we genuinely believe.
Are we willing to lay our Isaacs on the altar? Be on the verge of letting all the life that is in our Promise be ripped open and flow freely upon the ground - knowing that somehow God can resurrect it?
To be given glimpses of the Promise - and to be told to remain strong when the pain was overwhelming - that what was shown was true - that the dreams and promises should never again be forgotten because of their pain -
And then to be in the middle of shadowy days that could hold the crumbling of those foundations - or could hold the greatest move forward toward the manifestation of the Visions of Promise given -
Again, I'm forced to answer the question:
'Do I trust beyond all doubt?'.
The peace that enveloped me in the beginning - when I wondered if the beauty of the Visions of Promise were actually real - returns. Somehow I know it will come to pass. God can and will orchestrate the means to the end.
All I desire is that this time I get Plan A.
The past has been different, however this time Plan B would be seconds and scraps compared to Plan A. I had a chance at Plan B and I refused it for the promises and beauty of Plan A. Surely that sacrifice can be honored and all the joys and beauty and hope in the Promise I have been given can be given in its original intent. This time - I WANT TO WIN. No more getting second best.
And in the near-blinding fog of what the next few days will bring surround me, there is a warmth of peace that although in some moments the tears flow the comfort of God is nearest.
No more a hardened heart - there is greater blessing in mourning and releasing our frailty and being comforted than there is in not feeling any pain. The peace and comfort is all that keeps me centered in these moments.
Whether journeying to a place where the death of a promise is imminent or journeying to a place after a promise has died hoping to have it resurrected hope is never lost - and in the end, the faith in the Promise manifesting and remaining alive reaps deep rewards.
All shall be well, God will have His Promise manifested. I just don't want Him to have to defer to a Plan B.
©Kristen Garcia 2-3-2012
'Do I truly trust?'.
Life can change in a breath. Between one heartbeat and the next something can blindside us and we have to decide whether or not we genuinely believe.
Are we willing to lay our Isaacs on the altar? Be on the verge of letting all the life that is in our Promise be ripped open and flow freely upon the ground - knowing that somehow God can resurrect it?
To be given glimpses of the Promise - and to be told to remain strong when the pain was overwhelming - that what was shown was true - that the dreams and promises should never again be forgotten because of their pain -
And then to be in the middle of shadowy days that could hold the crumbling of those foundations - or could hold the greatest move forward toward the manifestation of the Visions of Promise given -
Again, I'm forced to answer the question:
'Do I trust beyond all doubt?'.
The peace that enveloped me in the beginning - when I wondered if the beauty of the Visions of Promise were actually real - returns. Somehow I know it will come to pass. God can and will orchestrate the means to the end.
All I desire is that this time I get Plan A.
The past has been different, however this time Plan B would be seconds and scraps compared to Plan A. I had a chance at Plan B and I refused it for the promises and beauty of Plan A. Surely that sacrifice can be honored and all the joys and beauty and hope in the Promise I have been given can be given in its original intent. This time - I WANT TO WIN. No more getting second best.
And in the near-blinding fog of what the next few days will bring surround me, there is a warmth of peace that although in some moments the tears flow the comfort of God is nearest.
No more a hardened heart - there is greater blessing in mourning and releasing our frailty and being comforted than there is in not feeling any pain. The peace and comfort is all that keeps me centered in these moments.
Whether journeying to a place where the death of a promise is imminent or journeying to a place after a promise has died hoping to have it resurrected hope is never lost - and in the end, the faith in the Promise manifesting and remaining alive reaps deep rewards.
All shall be well, God will have His Promise manifested. I just don't want Him to have to defer to a Plan B.
©Kristen Garcia 2-3-2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
I Don't Ask For Much
I'm tired. I'm weary. My strength is waning.
It always happens in these moments. But there's something different about this time.
I have been patient, but lately it's been wearing thin. Thin enough that in the threadbare patches I've let my heart get the best of me.
I've seen through the illusions, through the past pains that have shrouded my vision and see what truly is, and in that my strength has returned, but, in this moment, even that struggles to fortify my spirit. Revelation leads to patience and peace, but at what point is it sink or swim?
And as I step back and evaluate where I am I realize - When I come to you with my hands out I don't ask for much.
I have not asked to be showered with fine sparkly adornments; I have not asked for the Red Sea to be parted. I don't demand that you do this or that nor promise you that if you do 'just this ONE thing for me' you shall earn my forever love and devotion.
I come with my hands out asking for greater than that. Things that no value of money could ever buy. Things that after searching out what brings you joy - what melts your heart - what rises up the passionate forces of your soul - those things become what I long for and I come with outstretched hands asking 'Please Sir, may I have sum'mor?'.
And even when I do come to you anymore, it is rarely for myself. I don't really ask much at all for me unless you've already said to me that you will give it to/do it for me. And even then, many times, I don't bother you often when it seems to be delayed. As persistent and stubborn as I am, I try to leave some things alone.
But, today, I'm tired. My heart growing exhausted at the highs of expectant joy and the lows of (silently, mildly) bitter disappointment. I don't ask for much in this area that is seemingly tarrying, but I'm asking now. Surely at some point I get to win. Surely at some point all the work I've put into others will be returned unto me. This cannot go on much longer like this, can it?
Too many more disappointments and delays may finally break me. Even though all strength in Heaven and Earth are mine for the taking I do have my human moments when I feel like I'm grasping in the dark for refreshment. This is one.
I know what you have promised, but in the toughest, albeit short, moments your silence causes more doubt than my own heart can create on its own. All I have are remembrances of what you have said to me and I have to trust in those alone.
If I could see it I wouldn't need faith, would I? I know what you have said over and over again, but could you say it just once more? That's all I need right now to get through these hours.
My frail humanity I loathe. I'm greater than this normally, so why is this so hard? Ease my heart, let me hear your voice with kind words of reassurance - tender melodies of healing strength that saturate my soul - a washing wave of peace greater than all words.
This is the only thing that will satisfy my fear, my hurt, my exhaustion, my frailty if I must continue on like this.
I don't ask for much, but could I have this now? Please?
©Kristen Garcia 1-23-2012
It always happens in these moments. But there's something different about this time.
I have been patient, but lately it's been wearing thin. Thin enough that in the threadbare patches I've let my heart get the best of me.
I've seen through the illusions, through the past pains that have shrouded my vision and see what truly is, and in that my strength has returned, but, in this moment, even that struggles to fortify my spirit. Revelation leads to patience and peace, but at what point is it sink or swim?
And as I step back and evaluate where I am I realize - When I come to you with my hands out I don't ask for much.
I have not asked to be showered with fine sparkly adornments; I have not asked for the Red Sea to be parted. I don't demand that you do this or that nor promise you that if you do 'just this ONE thing for me' you shall earn my forever love and devotion.
I come with my hands out asking for greater than that. Things that no value of money could ever buy. Things that after searching out what brings you joy - what melts your heart - what rises up the passionate forces of your soul - those things become what I long for and I come with outstretched hands asking 'Please Sir, may I have sum'mor?'.
And even when I do come to you anymore, it is rarely for myself. I don't really ask much at all for me unless you've already said to me that you will give it to/do it for me. And even then, many times, I don't bother you often when it seems to be delayed. As persistent and stubborn as I am, I try to leave some things alone.
But, today, I'm tired. My heart growing exhausted at the highs of expectant joy and the lows of (silently, mildly) bitter disappointment. I don't ask for much in this area that is seemingly tarrying, but I'm asking now. Surely at some point I get to win. Surely at some point all the work I've put into others will be returned unto me. This cannot go on much longer like this, can it?
Too many more disappointments and delays may finally break me. Even though all strength in Heaven and Earth are mine for the taking I do have my human moments when I feel like I'm grasping in the dark for refreshment. This is one.
I know what you have promised, but in the toughest, albeit short, moments your silence causes more doubt than my own heart can create on its own. All I have are remembrances of what you have said to me and I have to trust in those alone.
If I could see it I wouldn't need faith, would I? I know what you have said over and over again, but could you say it just once more? That's all I need right now to get through these hours.
My frail humanity I loathe. I'm greater than this normally, so why is this so hard? Ease my heart, let me hear your voice with kind words of reassurance - tender melodies of healing strength that saturate my soul - a washing wave of peace greater than all words.
This is the only thing that will satisfy my fear, my hurt, my exhaustion, my frailty if I must continue on like this.
I don't ask for much, but could I have this now? Please?
©Kristen Garcia 1-23-2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Lauderdale Roadside
Clouds and torrential rains swirl around me, blinding the way the road turns ahead of me.
An unfamiliar place, no place to run to safety, just forced to wait out the storm.
As the clouds move east the rains ease up I begin my journey again, the twists and turns of a country road laid out before me.
And then, to the west, a slice of light so powerful begins to dawn in the break of the clouds.
Its beauty and meaning strikes my soul so deep that it is all I can do to find a place to stop and just simply watch.
I lean against my car, watching the intensity of this dawning till I am nearly blinded and have to look away.
And there, on a deserted Lauderdale County Road - the Mississippi River just beyond the tree line - I realize that my soul has just been allowed a rare gift by God.
Like Simeon and Anna beholding the Christ Child as promised I know I have beheld the infancy of the power that shall one day shame the sun and drive us all to our knees.
©Kristen Garcia 1-2011
An unfamiliar place, no place to run to safety, just forced to wait out the storm.
As the clouds move east the rains ease up I begin my journey again, the twists and turns of a country road laid out before me.
And then, to the west, a slice of light so powerful begins to dawn in the break of the clouds.
Its beauty and meaning strikes my soul so deep that it is all I can do to find a place to stop and just simply watch.
I lean against my car, watching the intensity of this dawning till I am nearly blinded and have to look away.
And there, on a deserted Lauderdale County Road - the Mississippi River just beyond the tree line - I realize that my soul has just been allowed a rare gift by God.
Like Simeon and Anna beholding the Christ Child as promised I know I have beheld the infancy of the power that shall one day shame the sun and drive us all to our knees.
©Kristen Garcia 1-2011
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