Our souls remember garden. The connection, the beauty,days when it was all good. And our souls rememberwhen we had to leave, after everything went wrong.
Little child hides after doing something wrong.
And every time we depart from someone we love, it feels like small death.
Our souls remember Eden. And when we face beauty,connection, goodness greater than frequent,... it all says that there is something, something we were made for.
“Me, a princess?” “You are the legal heir.” “I never lead anyone.” “We will help you to be a princess, to rule. If you refuse to accept the throne then the kingdom will cease to exist as we know it.” --The Princess Diaries
In God’s name we must fight them! --Joan of Arc
Women are often portrayed in stories and tales as the “Damsel in Distress.” We are the ones for whom men rise up and slay dragons. We are the “weaker sex”; said to faint at the sight of blood, needing to be spared the gory details of battle whether on the field or in the market place. We are the ones waiting in our flowing gowns for the knight to come and carry us away on the back of his white horse. And yes. There are days when a knight in shining armor would be most welcome. We do long to be fought for; loved enough to be courageously protected. But there is a mighty fierceness set in the heart of women by God. It is true to who we are and what we are created to do.
Women are warriors too.
Redeemed women of God have tender, merciful hearts, backbones of steel and hands that have been trained for battle. There is something incredibly fierce in the heart of a woman that is to be contended with, not dismissed, not disdained, but recognized, honored, welcomed and trained.
The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people.
U C bones? I C an army. And they are FREE from materialism.
They laugh at 9-5 little prisons. They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday. They wouldn't even notice. They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won. They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport.. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence. They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying. What is the vision ? The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes. It makes children laugh and adults angry. It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars. It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure.
Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation. It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games. This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause. A million times a day its soldiers
choose to loose that they might one day win the great 'Well done' of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don't need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: "COME ON!"
And this is the sound of the underground The whisper of history in the making Foundations shaking Revolutionaries dreaming once again Mystery is scheming in whispers Conspiracy is breathing… This is the sound of the underground
And the army is discipl(in)ed.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms. The tattoo on their back boasts "for me to live is Christ and to die is gain".
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes. Winners. Martyrs. Who can stop them ? Can hormones hold them back? Can failure succeed? Can fear scare them or death kill them ?
And the generation prays
like a dying man with groans beyond talking, with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and with great barrow loads of laughter! Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.
Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.
They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive inside.
On the outside? They hardly care. They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide. Would they surrender their image or their popularity? They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row - guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.
Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.) Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus. Their words make demons scream in shopping centres. Don't you hear them coming? Herald the weirdo's! Summon the losers and the freaks. Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes. They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension. Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.
And this vision will be. It will come to pass; it will come easily; it will come soon. How do I know? Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit, the very dream of God. My tomorrow is his today. My distant hope is his 3D. And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great 'Amen!' from countless angels, from hero's of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.
Over the past summer I have found that I have fallen deeply in love with God. It sounds so crazy to explain but my inside (soul, heart, whatever you call it) has been filled with deep knowledge of living God, on whom I can always depend and who, is always there for me. This God is a warrior, wild, fierce but also gentle, loving, caring and providing. And when I open my "love letter" - Bible, tons of verses describe these things I have come to know.
This video above, A frank conversation with Pastor Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church, Seattle about the costs and the requirements of being a church planter didn't speak to me some much of a church planter/planting but also about this wilder and "macho" side of God, which I love. And it is also this image of God in men I long for and I respect and expect. I could talk about this for hours, but don't have hrs time now, so I cut it short and make short cut to end of my "speech" here.
I want to see more men in Church in Finland. And I don't mean church only as buildings and congregations, but as body of Christ. Forget your beliefs of religion and conventions, look at loving warrior Christ Jesus :) and ask him who you are and what to do and where do you belong. And I want to ask for forgiveness from (Finnish) men, as I have often thought and believed that you are not good enough and don't have what it takes or even if you have, you are not willing to use it and are passive or then manipulative and aggressive. And I want learn to submit and respect leadership of men. And I want to courage and bless (specially Finnish) men as leaders, friends and brothers. I want to have patient to wait and to be ready for time when God leads the One to walk, pray and fight side by side with me and I want to be ready to follow that man. As we follow Jesus.
Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident. One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD.
(Ps. 27:3–4 NIV)
Aware of the battle, but not afraid. Love is the key, a romance. Meeting face to face, heart to heart with the Great I Am. This is my desire.
Today I had Arnold's bagel and vanilla frappe for late lunch. Before me in queue were two boys, about 10-11 years old litlle dudes. One of them ordered chocolate doughnut but one obviously didn't have any money on him. While waiting for my order I saw those two boys sitting at table one eating and one just keeping him company. It took a long time for my frappe, so I had time to see how that boy who has his doughnut started to pull small coins out of his pockets to see if he would have enough to lend his friend to get a doughnut too. While they were still counting, i got my order and same time realised that I had 50cent coin in my pocket. When walking out from Arnold's, I walked past those boys and put my 50cent in their pile of coins. It surprised them fully and their faces were lit up immeteadly. Took them few seconds to yell "thank yous" after me, but it came from heart. For 50cents, I felt like million dollars.
Jesus bless those boys and all litlle boys in this land. Let them be wild and good in their hearts and shall they be fed above their heads and hearts and stomachs with your goodness.
-- "The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Matt.25:40 --
