The Ifs and the Is.

In a life full of lies, it’s difficult to trust, let alone to believe. We pursue clarity as if it holds the answers to everything we ever wondered. We find ourselves lost, we fear the unknown, and we misplace our trust. If only we knew which path to choose, so we wouldn’t be lost anymore. If only we knew what lay in store, so we wouldn’t be so afraid. If only we knew whose side to take, so we wouldn’t end up alone. If only, if only, if only…

But let me assure you, the answers are not what you seek. For even if you found them, even if you solved all of life’s riddles, more questions would surface. We’d wonder instead why we were ever lost to begin with. We’d wonder instead how the future is any different from the past. We’d wonder instead if we can even trust ourselves. So instead of chasing the answers, seek the one who knows them.


“As long as we pursue what-ifs, we’ll always miss what is.”


The world is determined to convince you that you can save yourself, whether from danger, from darkness, or from death. But you can’t. Don’t allow your finite vision to cause you to mistrust an infinite God. We don’t have all the answers, but that’s perfectly okay. God has a reason, and he has a purpose. His love is unfailing and he does not fail. He is sovereign and beyond worthy of our trust.

Though you may not see it, what you need is not clarity, but trust. And sometimes, that trust costs you something. But you need to go determined, with resolve, and wholehearted. Though trust is sometimes blind, our faith is not. So I urge you, lean not on your own understanding. Fall not on your own spear. Just because we lack answers does not mean that we lack what we need. We worship a God that knows all things, whose wisdom is unfathomable.

Sometimes we find ourselves drowning, desperate for salvation. We’re left with nothing but trust. And it’s then, when we discover that God is all we have, that we realize God is all we need. Whether he sends a ship, builds a bridge, or empowers you to swim… trust in him.

He’s ready. He’s all in. He’s accessible. He’s here. He’s the Author and Perfecter of our faith. So put all of your trust in him. If you do, he is able to do far more than we could ever, ever imagine.


There once were twelve within my grasp,

Though they all have somehow gone.

One by one, they slipped away,

As the sands I’d built upon.


1 stepped boldly into the night

But by dawn had not been found.

2, with sword, set out to quest

In search of some holier ground.

3 strayed sadly between the cracks

And could not clamor back out.

Then 4, with hope, went bursting forth

But was overwhelmed by doubt.

5, in rebellion, was eager to leave

Not bothering to ever turn back.

And 6 went chasing, soon thereafter,

But fell silently into the black.

With courage 7 braved deserts and seas

Though adventure came out on top.

8 carved circles into the mind

And no demon could make this one stop.

It was 9 who tried to outwit

But quickly fell victim instead,

Just as 10 who tried to outrun,

And, dogged, fell down dead.

Then there was 11, who was truly wise,

But was bested by blinding pride.

And at last there was 12, in whom I had hoped,

That drowned in the tears I had cried.


There once were twelve within my grasp,

Though they all have somehow gone.

Tonight I’ll follow them into the dark,

And hope for light at the dawn.


word out of
my mouth is new.
And, yet, each of them
has been spoken before, perhaps
even in this order. Everything I write is
somehow unique, but nothing I say is truly original.
The reason for this? We are not creators; we are re-creators.
We are not imaginers; we are re-imaginers. All that we utter, all that we pen,
all that we think, all that we invent, is not so new as we might believe. We draw inspiration from things around us. We combine ideas to form other ones, ones we call original. But we are not original because we can’t be. It is beyond our capacity. We cannot entirely create because we, ourselves, are created. God saw a world, and it formed. He wanted waters
to separate, and they did. He called for light, and it shone. He imagined land,
so it arose. He desired life, and it sprung forth. In many respects we are
like him, for we bear his image. Yet we pale in comparison to him.
Our ability to create is no exception. By grace we have
significance. The things we say and do actually
matter. And so I can only hope
that the phrases I repeat carry weight,
that the visions I recreate hold beauty,
that the ideas I reimagine have purpose,
and that the image I reflect is

From Heaven To Earth

The Lord rains down from the heavens with majesty;
            from high above the earth He releases His splendor.
It falls from the lofty heights;
            it falls in beautiful sheets.
He pours blessings over the land;
            He plants seeds of life beneath the dirt.
In awe we watch Him lavish creation,
            rendered speechless by His every move.
His majesty is breathtaking,
            for breaths are His to take.
His majesty is unmistakable,
            for He alone is God.

The Lord unleashes His wrath on the earth;
            He brings fire upon the lowly.
With swift winds He wreaks havoc;
            with rage He seeks out justice.
He searches the hearts of every man and woman,
            finding in every one wickedness.
We cower in fear of His power;
            we wonder why we ever stopped fearing.
His anger is just,
            for judgment is His to give.
His anger is righteous,
            for He alone is God.

The Lord showers His people in mercy;
            from the skies His forgiveness flows forth.
From high above the ground it falls,
            covering the sins of the earth.
He takes the dirty and cleanses them;
            He holds the stained close to His breast.
In tears we approach our Lord,
            unable to put gratitude into words.
His grace is free,
            for salvation is His to offer.
His grace is unfathomable,
            for He alone is God.

The Lord descends on the earth in glory;
            He has come to take His bride.
With trumpets sound He has come;
            He has come to take us home.
The angels are praising His name;
            “Holy, Holy, Holy!” they cry.
Our souls proclaim from within us;
            we join in the marvelous sound.
His glory is unmatchable,
            for heaven is His to hold.
His glory is incomparable,
            for He alone is God.

The Beautiful War

This is a repost of the last, translated roughly into English!


In a world of deception there are so many scoundrels,

Robbing joy from every corner,

Denying the people of their just fate,

Gifting instead a passage to death.


It’s between this sadness that I search for the joy

That eludes death, that escapes from the pit.

In hope of creating some spark of life,

I prepare to fight, with rigid fortitude.


There is only one battle that’s worth the pain,

It’s that which liberates the heart of its chains.

Of all the reasons, the most powerful:

Love, without doubt, the beautiful war.

La guerra hermosa

En un mundo de engaño hay tantos bribones

Robando al júbilo de todos rincones,

Denegando a la gente de su justa suerte,

Regalando, en lugar, un pasaje a la muerte.


Es entre las tristezas que busco el gozo

Que eluda la muerte, que huya del pozo.

En esperanza de crear algún chispa de vida,

Me preparo a luchar, con entereza rígida.


Hay sólo una batalla que vale la pena;

Es la que libera al corazón de cadenas.

De todas razones, la más poderosa:

El amor, sin duda, la guerra hermosa.


I stagger, slightly dizzy, still reeling from the blow that just hit me.  Somewhat unsure of what it was, I grope for a rail or a rope, anything to steady myself.  My sights are crowded but ironically I feel alone.  There’s a constant hum of activity, the world spins in motion around me, but somehow I’m at a standstill.

I’m supposed to be free.  I was just released, the chains unleashed, but I’m stuck.  Directionless I spin, searching for a path to take, a heading to make.  Though there are no road signs out in the sea.

It’s a flood of emotions.  There’s confusion, anxiety, and a hint of fear.  There’s frustration, guilt, and a twinge of anger.  They continue to roll over me in waves, relentless as they hit my battered hull.  I’m afloat, but barely.

At times, I’m dazed.  My frame fails to support me and I crumble in a heap on the floor.  I’m confused about where I am, and even more riddled by where I’m going.  I haven’t acquired my sea legs, yet.

Then comes the anxiety.  Which way do I point?  To whom do I turn?  I have a place to lay my head, but is it really my home?

Fear comes and goes, like the tide.  Usually I pay it no heed.  Usually it doesn’t bother me.  But every once in a while, it creeps up.  Like a sucker-punch it hits me, and my sandcastle walls collapse.  And then it ebbs away again.

Occasionally I’ll make some headway.  My sails will catch a gust of wind, or my vessel will be carried by a wave.  But then the wind dies, and the waves will cease.  It’s frustrating, to be a sitting duck on open waters.

Then I feel guilty.  How can I blame anyone but myself?  I should have prepared myself better, should have trained harder.  Then I wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament.  Yet here I am, and I’m the only one to blame.

Or am I?  Anger rushes in and I point my finger elsewhere.  Anywhere really.  But it’s pointless, because no one else is at fault.

So for now, I put my hands on the rail, and hold on tight.  I look out over the waters and wonder what waits out there.  I know there’s something.  I just haven’t spotted it yet.

Stranded and alone, I have plenty of time to ponder.  Yet even with this, I struggle.  What to ponder, where to cast my gaze… these are the answers I lack.

Whoever you are, if you’re even out there, what say you?