Rewind to this time last year, I had entered a new season in my spiritual life that I simply could not get accustomed to. The best way I can describe it is “The Still Waters”. Bear with me here and we’ll paint a picture together.

My spiritual journey first began in the summer of 2012 on my first missionary trip to Kenya; a time in my life that I frequently reminisce on – the first couple of days I met my First Love, my Jesus. A chapter of great emotion; The Beginning. Bucketfuls of joyful tears from being introduced to the One who stole my heart and learning that I am a consecrated temple for Him (1 Kings 9:3). A season where I began to discover the difference between the Truth and my many ever-changing truths. I’m sure many of you can relate to a similar period in your life; when you first actively decided to make the shift from a “Sunday church-goer” to an “I want a real relationship with God” Christian.

That chapter lasted all of two pages, before the next, twenty paged, chapter – one that did not seem to ever want to end – came and really tested me; The Storm. A season of many questions and many tears (this time, not so joyful). A time that I begged the Lord to take away from me, nonetheless a time that showed me the real, practical side of God. The loving Father, the supporting Son and the comforting Holy Spirit. The Storm taught me the power of Hope; what it means to hope in Him and trust that I will not be put to shame (Psalm 25:3) even when darkness seems to prevail. God didn’t just use The Storm to open my eyes to His real, practical love for me, but also utilised it to convict me to serve others in the same way that He was ministering to me.

As quickly as it had come, The Storm had passed with the grace of God. I had grown accustomed to dreaming about what “could be” during that period of my life, that when I reached the other side, I couldn’t quite believe it.

The Still Waters; a season in your life where external circumstances are very comfortable, so that no intense emotions are evoked in your everyday living.

I had been liberated from what felt like the harshest storm, now finally making it into the still waters of a vast ocean. Freedom! Joy! Thankfulness! Gratitude! Relief! Excitement! I could do whatever I pleased and go wherever I wanted.

Except that I couldn’t…

I wandered in The Still Waters for an entire year, literally. I got lost; I circled around myself month after month finding myself right at the same spot where The Lord had originally delivered me to, after The Storm. The plethora of emotions I had experienced once delivered, faded away as fast as daylight on a cold November’s day. What was interesting was though I was completely lost at sea, I felt a comfort in knowing that “at least I was no longer in The Storm”.

And this is where it all went south…

Lesson 1: Still Waters Do Not Stir Emotion

What I hadn’t realised as I sailed into The Still Waters, was that up until this point in my life, my spirituality was entirely based on emotions (even though I genuinely didn’t think it was).

You see, Kenya to me was almost like the “honeymoon” stage of a relationship for The Lord and I; He outpoured His grace onto me and I gladly soaked it in. My relationship with Him at that time was heavily based on the stirring of my emotions – oh how the Spirit would move me in all circumstances! I began to know His heart but had placed Him in this nice ‘airy-fairy’ Christian bubble in my mind. And though The Lord impacted my everyday life choices, it almost felt like a daze – far away from reality.

I believe that is why He permitted The Storm to hit when it did – to wake me up! So I could be overwhelmed by “real life” and choose to integrate Him into it. So I could encounter His love and despite the pain of the world, would learn to take heart, for He has overcome the world (John 16:33).
What I hadn’t accounted for, was though I was growing in faith because of the trial, I was still completely dependent on emotions. Negative ones albeit, but emotions nonetheless. Despair would have completely overtaken me had I not run to Him, but it was that same despair that drove me to His arms in the first place.

“St. Diadochos of Photiki says that the Introductory Joy is one thing and the Perfecting Joy is another. The first one, being strongly emotional, is mixed with fantasy, “is not devoid of fantasy”, while Perfecting Joy is associated with humility. Between Emotional Joy and Perfecting Joy there is “god-loving sorrow and painless tears”. Emotional Joy, which is called Introductory, is not entirely rejected, yet we must be led to the Perfecting Joy. This perfection and cure is achieved through the cross.”

Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos

When you’re smooth sailing in life though, there are absolutely no intense emotions being evoked. You’re neither ecstatic nor are you devastated, so coming to the Lord becomes an active choice. Your external circumstances do not push or force you to hold onto Him – it all becomes a choice. A true freedom bestowed on us from The Father; the freedom to completely abandon Him when life is neither healing nor hurting. A freedom I am not accustomed to and still figuring out how to handle.
Becoming dependant on your emotions in your walk with God can only lead to darkness. Emotions are fickle, ever-changing and temporal. They’re a great side dish to a main course, but they can never satisfy your innermost hunger.

What I have only come to realise now, is that emotions can only take us so far because of their nature; being passive. A relationship with our Creator, and consequently with our fellow men, has to be based on Love to succeed, and Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails (1 Corinthians 13:4-8).

Love is an action; an action that we deliberately perform. We have a Saviour who initiated that Love towards us, and that is how we are able to live Love, speak Love and think Love (1 John 4:19). While Love is an active decision to do, emotions are a passive result of receiving. Because you can Love with no emotions, but you cannot feel emotions without Love (or lack thereof).

We must train our spiritual muscles to rest on Truth in our relationships with the Lord, not on emotions; for the mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace (Romans 8:6), and knowing these things, blessed are we if we do them (John 13:17). We are new creations; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new (2 Corinthians 5:17); therefore we have the power to not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our minds (Romans 12:2).

Lesson 2: Still Waters Can Lead To Death

I have a pet bunny called Joel (cutest little guy) who lives in my room (don’t worry, before you start saying ‘eww’; – I’m very clean and my room is usually very tidy), and I often think about what little visual stimulation he receives on an average day compared to me. As I walk the streets of London daily, my eyes are exposed to colours and shapes, while he stays loafing around in my room eagerly awaiting the moment when dad comes home so he can eat and play (mostly eat).

Sailing the Still Waters – as tranquil and peaceful as it is, does the same to us as Joel staying in my room all day; we are not stimulated – whether by sight, sound, smell or touch. Before long, the sight of the blue ocean and blue sky becomes repetitive, and we can develop a numbness to the season we’re in.

If we do not choose to involve God in our everyday lives during that season, Idleness can creep in; an ungodly lifestyle that the Lord condemns.

“Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest. How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest — and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man.” Proverbs 6:6-11

In my case, it crawled ever so sneakily, reintroducing me to an old abusive friend; Lust, and Lust as is her nature, suffocated me (James 1:15).

For some of us, shame is not enough to help gear us back into the arms of the Father when we have succumbed to an ungodly life, numbing us from the neck down. We choose to believe the enemy’s guilt over the Holy Spirit’s conviction. It took a moment of complete helplessness, realising that though I had given myself to the world, the world would never be loyal to me, for me to comprehend what Jimmy Needham is saying in the clip below;

“Flee also youthful lusts; but pursue righteousness, faith, love, peace with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.“

1 Timothy 2:22

“I have seen impure souls crazed for physical love; but when these same souls have made this grounds for repentance, as a result of their experience of sexual love they have transferred the same eros to the Lord, They have immediately gone beyond all fear and been spurred to insatiable love for God. This is why the Lord said to the chaste harlot not that she had feared, but that she had loved much, and was readily able to repel eros through eros…

Let them take courage who are humbled by their passions. For even if they fall into every pit and are caught in every snare, when they attain health they will become healers, luminaries, beacons and guides to all, teaching about the forms of every sickness and through their own experience saving those who are about to fall.”

St. John Climacus

Lesson 3: Still Waters Lead To New Rivers

When you give the Lord authority to lead the way, to set sail, you feel immense peace and assurance in His will, even if you have not yet reached your destination.

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal.” Isaiah 26:3-4

It’s the casting of the net, when there is surely no fish in the sea. (Luke 5:4)
It’s purposely going into battle with 300 men, instead of 32,000. (Judges 7:7)
It’s the sacrificing of your only son, because God told you so. (Genesis 22:10)

Only now am I beginning to understand lyrics of a song I had heard so often; “‘Cause learning how to love, is learning how to lose”. How true it is, the mystery of losing oneself in Christ, to find oneself.

Chris August sings “I gotta find You, if I wanna find me”… the same melody the Psalmist had long spoken of when he wrote “I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love forever and ever ” Psalm 52:8, finding himself in His Saviour and Creator.

The beauty of submission, is though I do not know what is beyond The Still Waters, I remain hopeful and unshaken as I am rooted in Him.

The Still Waters are a blessing; a season to enjoy a pure, undefiled, real Love with my King. A chance to grow and to practice putting on the armour of God in preparation for my next trial; whether it be another storm, an earthquake or a fire. A season of open dialogue with The Word, to be corrected and refined.

It is the recognition that I can grow in love with Jesus on the journey, not just at the destination.

May you see The Lord in your Still Waters.

I liked it so much, I kissed many. I never believed in considering future consequences, only the here and now, only in the moment where my body lusted and craved another.

I believed in hedonism.

I was a lover of a sugar-coated world, biting deep enough to reach the salt beneath; left parched and bereft. But when invited to dine with the Divine, I counted up the cost and I conceded that He was worth it all. Because when you see the light, darkness doesn’t stand a chance. When you see the light, you cannot deny its existence.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has shined.”
Isaiah 9:2

We tend towards hiding our not-so-pure stories, locking them deep into caskets that no one may see or hear. We profess forgiveness like we do breathing, yet shame whispers “tell no one” and we trust its every word. In a community amongst those who testify to the living Word, Who is pure and holy, Who calls us to be as He is, we feel there is no room for our stories of grace. We see the awe in people’s eyes as they intently listen to testimony after testimony, whilst observing how the same story-tellers are not trusted, always on trial. So we sit in silence, hear stories like ours being called a disgrace, bite our tongues as people express the need to marry only a “pure” spouse.

Yet, forgiveness does not beckon silence. And grace does not hide away our past sins. Rather it holds each thorn up to the light and transforms them into pure white lilies, with each petal holding a unique story, not to be forgotten, lest the power of grace be forgotten.

There’s a woman whose story I know well. Or perhaps, it is she that knows mine. A nameless woman, yet not a faceless one, for I have seen her face countless times when I’ve looked in the mirror. The courageous woman on the sixth hour of Wednesday eve.

She can see the Man she came for. She had heard that Christ had come to the house of the Pharisee. It was not too late to turn around, forget it all, save looking foolish, call it a moment of insanity. Yet, despite any doubt, she feels her feet carry her forward. Ardent, panting and perspiring, she makes her way to the large inner chamber of the banquet weaving through all the people. She does not dare look up. She can feel the heat of their burning disproval on the back of her neck. She hears the steady hum of conversation dwindle to hushed tones of disgust and scandal as they recognise her. People are moving a safe distance away from her. She pays them no mind, her eyes locked on this one Man. She had boldly chased after many men, but none like this. The room is silent now as they realise Who she came for. Does she really have the audacity to come before this righteous Man who claims to be God?

She walks forward, with one thing in mind. Sharp inhale. She stops right in front of him. Without lifting her eyes from the ground, she quietly and slowly kneels and lets down her hair. Memories flash before her of all those nights she used her hair as a snare to seduce, remembering all those fingers that ran wild and passionately through them. Her vision blurs as her eyes pour. Thick, heavy droplets of regret fall to His feet. She remembers the words spoken to her, how it was always her eyes that drew them in and held them captive, possessing their own alluring power. The eyes that stained her life with sin, now moistened His feet.

She stammers. With no words to say she does the only thing she could; she washes His feet. She takes her trembling hands, the same vessels that fed the pleasures of men, cups His feet and holds the thick strands of her locks to wipe them. She wonders if she has crossed a line, but He does not stop her or move away. She was accustomed to desiring men, but never desiring their forgiveness.

She takes her lips, lips that eagerly sought and caressed bare flesh, and kisses His feet. The room breaks out in shock; horror and objections ring loud in the room. An exchange of mutterings, naming her immoral, worthless and irreverent. She feels Him staring at her but she feels no fear and no shame. The others see Him staring at her, in a way they haven’t seen Him stare before. His eyes glisten, there is warmth. She knows how it feels to be stared at by a man, a ravaging stare full of fervent desire, but this was not the same. She feels Him look right through her. She is known, for the first time.

She pulls out her alabaster flask, her costly jar of sensual pleasure used to arose her lovers. The memories race, the images flash. She forcefully pushes them away as she breaks the alabaster flask. Her tears mingle with perfume and she continues to wipe with her hair. She kisses and pours; impure lips become holy. The beautiful fragrance rises. He does not speak but she feels His radiating, pure love. She feels something unexplainable she has never known before. Is this acceptance? Is this what it means to belong? She lifts up her head, looks Him in the eye, and she knows; nothing will ever be the same.

Luke 7 has its ending, but I’ve always wondered what happens next. I think of her departure to her normal life after being told that she was forgiven and loved. I think of how she must have replayed that moment over and over again in her head, how she must have wanted to tell everyone, scream and dance because of how light she felt and how her heart must have burst with joy. That cherished moment she shared with Her Saviour will forever be theirs. I also think of the men who must have knocked on her door that night. All those men that kept knocking because they never believed that she could change. I think of years of learnt behaviour that was like second nature and all she saw from her former life when she closed her eyes to pray. I think of her walking back into her bedroom, those four walls that contained all her unchaste amorous nights, and trying to pray. To rise in the place that she fell.

For, redemption is no passive, tidy ideology. Redemption is real and redemption is messy, it is as messy as sweat and a bloody cross. And it is on that same cross that the proclamation was made, “Tetelestai,” confirming the end, it is finished, it is done. No need to walk with head hanging low, shame raised high, but walk joyously in the light. The light that beckons every soul; those who have given in to every single fleshly desire and all those who haven’t. Because the Light does not differentiate, it infiltrates every darkness; and darkness has no measure. It is that same Light that looks upon us with the eyes of compassion and gives us the assurance that,

“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.”
Romans 8:1

Our belief in this truth is dependent solely on ourselves and not in other peoples responses to our former life, our own thoughts or the enemies lies. Our remembrance of our sexual sin can be crippling. We may be crippled by the way we once behaved; disregarding the holy in ourselves and in others. We may be crippled by the fear of falling back into old ways, and the fear of being too marred in the eyes of another. The taste of sexual pleasure is not an easy one to forget, and we may fear our longing for that same gratification. We may be haunted by the words spoken once on dark nights, or the daily glances that remind us of the power we possess. It is a life-long battle to fight, whilst holding tight to the truth that there is now no condemnation, and expectantly praying, “According to your good will, O God fill our hearts with your peace. Cleanse us from all blemish, all guile, all hypocrisy, all malice and the remembrance of evil entailing death” (The Liturgy According to St Basil the Great).

And as we pray this, may we approach the Eucharist, His own flesh and blood, just as the woman approached Him, offering every piece of herself at His feet, broken like the alabaster jar. She recognised Him not as an ordinary man but as her Saviour, yet we often approach Him as mere bread and wine, blind to the Majesty that pours Himself out before us. Let us walk repentantly, with fear and trembling, towards the Holy One and partake of the exchange of life that He offers, no matter what sin we laid with the night before, knowing that His love grants us the audacity to approach Him with confidence and being rooted in His Life, the mystical power to flee all other lovers.

So I will not be afraid to speak of my past sin, the desire of sin on skin, the Edenic memory of Adam and Eve’s freedom in expression and pleasure corrupted and abused. Because, this I know, forgiveness and freedom is mine, and though I am a woman of unclean lips, as my lips touch His feet, there is redemption’s tale to tell.

Let the fragrance rise.

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth with it, and said:
“Behold, this has touched your lips; Your iniquity is taken away, And your sin purged.”
Isaiah 6:6-7

This body
My body
A swift sword
A time bomb
Ticking
Cutting

This soft skin that curves around me
That frames and encompasses me
I have seen its unsurpassed powers
I have tasted its intoxication
Eyes wide open
To its irresistible magic

Hard to forget
Its delicious sweet nectar
Dripping subtle, potent poison
This body
Is not a body
But a weapon

Of charm and deceit
Of self seeking ambition
I waste in admiration and affirmation
I glory in attention and adoration
I am a queen
Fluent in Sensuality’s language

The power euphoric
The formula, tried and tested
A gaze and a flutter of the eyes
The control to summon and cast away
The siren song that calls your name
To shipwreck on the stones

And I howl
“Come, I will take away your pain”
To those that pant for it gladly
Like a dark mist
Leaving corpses rotten and defiled
Asphyxiating all breath, all life

So I numbed all feeling
Revelled in my conquer and rule
Sank my feet in my reckless storm
This body
Is just a body
Empty, hollow and cold

The more it consumes
The more it seeks to devour
This body is flames
A trail of dust in its wake
Nothing it touches will escape
Nothing is left standing

Least of all myself
This body is foreign
I do not want it
So I hide and cover it
Who can free me
From this body of death?

A stranger in this body of death
Dismembered from my lifeless soul
I feel my body’s betrayal
Under a man’s unrelenting gaze
I feel the poison flood my veins again
When their heads turn

I am reminded of the queen I could be
The thrill of control
I feel the rumbling and the stirring
Threatening to take over
Seduction is awakening
She is hungry from her slumber

But I will deprive her
Lay her down in silent, painful death
Bind her in burial cloths and dig a grave
Roll a boulder in front of the entrance
Scream TETELESTAI
For indeed, it is finished

Because I am not poison, I am not sword
And I wait on a promise like a thread
Keeping me from fraying at the edges
Of the God who calls out to dry bones
Giving life to sinew after sinew
The God who never fails those who wait

The God who wore humanity’s chains
To shatter our every chain
The God who rolls heavy stones away from tombs
And raises from the dead
The God who puts heavy stones down out of your hand
And says, “Live loved”

In truth, I believe that in Him
All the old has passed away
In the Spirt
I am finally liberated
The Veil torn
My face unveiled

He steps into my tomb
And when I look Him in the eyes
I see myself
He tells me who I am
Not thorn but Lily
He tells me Rise and live

I believe, help my unbelief.

Co-written with Sandra.

These words are for the women who are too afraid to speak out; you are not alone.

Silence is deadly. To let silence speak, is to let our souls fester. And festering souls are no resting place for the Presence of Him who is holy.

As women we oft evade His presence, fleeing the present moment. Our minds are wanderers into the future, intricately creating fantasy after fantasy, convincing ourselves that it is acceptable. We tell ourselves that our thoughts dishonor no man, and a thought is not sinful unless it leaves the confines of our mind and enters into reality.

Even the essence of our thoughts don’t seem to be always sinful, since they are not always sexual.

For hours we can ponder a life with that friend or stranger, how beautiful our babies could be and how good a lover he is bound to be. Within a minute, we are world-heroes, world-travellers and we have dated 5 different men.

In the words of Natasha Bedingfield,

“Trust me it would scare you
if you knew what was goin’ on in my brain
Trust me it would scare you
that I’ve picked out the church all the schools all the names…”

A day in a woman’s brain, would, most definitely, scare you.

St Isaac the Syrian said that it is a “greater miracle that a man can see his true self than the raising of the dead.” There is no light in our silence, there is light only in our truth. Our every attempt of denial, and our refusal to name our fantasies – lust – is to neglect truth. And the truth is, lust does not only take form in sexual fantasy.

As creatures of pleasure, lust is rooted in the thrill, of not only what may be forbidden, but what is not ours. Lust is not to be tamed, negotiated or bargained with; our minds and desires constantly rush ahead, racing to the next thought even as the current one is being consummated – all in pursuit of pleasure’s elusive satisfaction. A thought never remains as a single thought. It is an ever increasing drive for an ever diminishing pleasure. Lust will always keep you longer than you intended, drag you further than you anticipated and take more than you were willing to give. It plays for keeps.

Lust is the hours spent inside our own minds in uncontrollable imagination over any desire.

Lust is the fantasies we create to appease our emotional comfort, whether from the opposite sex or the same sex; even if our fantasies do not involve physical intimacy. Like the fantasy of a man stopping us from boarding a plane at the last minute to declare His undying love with roses, a box of love letters he’s been secretly writing for years and a song he wrote and composed just for us. But to live in a daydream is to live in a spirit of discontentment. As harmless as it may seem, we set ourselves up for unrealistic expectations that no man can measure up to and we waste the chance of taking moments seeking the God of all comforts in this dry, parched land.

Lust is an escape, a mechanism to cope with the realities where we feel stressed, inadequate, undesirable, bored or rejected; we turn to fantasy instead of seeking adventure and relief for our burdens in the only One who can promise pleasures forevermore.

Lust is a lack of trust that God is always good and we are always loved. It is the Isrealties, longing for the food in Egypt where they were slaves instead of having faith that the manna is enough and it could abound in sustaining their every need. It is determining that you know better, and this manna is not the best, so you take matters in to your own hands.

Lust is the time spent thinking of the ways you desire to be sexually intimate with a man; it is intimacy’s empty well, leaving you perpetually hungry for much more. It is the devil’s deceitful whispers that this is the God who deprives, demands impossible things and who takes away everything. Yet we must “consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls” for “unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.” Lust plunders and ravages our life, yet Lust has never forgiven us; it never took nails in its wrists. So while Christ may ask of us our lives, He sacrificed His first. What is surrendered to Him is never lost.

Lust takes the form of gluttony; it is the continual greed for excess and in this world of excess, I am the king. Centered on what I have set my heart on, what I feel I deserve or what I believe I am entitled to; I neglect to cast my anchor down to the faithfulness of my Living Hope and re-center on Him, the true King. Though we exchange ourselves for God, He exchanged Himself for us, for our freedom from death.

Our lustful thoughts come so naturally, that to fight them strikes against our very comfort. The mind is a fierce battle ground and we are besieged. Lustful thoughts are a never-ending attack but in our control is the decision to fight. And this fight cannot be of our own strength, but through the strength and grace of Christ.

Resolved to stand firm, we must not numb the pain for “we have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin”(Hebrews12:4). Paul instructs us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17), for a mind that ruminates and fixates on its own desires and pleasures in fantasy, is a mind that ceases to pray.

“Why do demons wish to excite in us gluttony, fornication, greed, anger, rancour and other passions? So that the mind, under their weight, should be unable to pray as it ought; for when the passions of our irrational part begin to act, they prevent the mind from acting rationally.”
– St. Nilus of Sinai

Paul exhorts us to “take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5), so however captivating the fantasy let us capture it in the net of His grace and “whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things”(Philippians 4:8).

So I must test my thoughts, assess each one, to find that which is true, noble, just, pure, lovely, of good report, of virtue and praiseworthy. But I know those thoughts are often few, and the reality is, pleasure drives my mind. As the disciples slept in Gethsemane, Jesus spoke to them,

“Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Matthew 26:41

Our spirits are willing, but our fleshy selves are weak, insatiable beggars. If a mind is not in prayer, it can reach anywhere, jump half-way across the world in pursuit of its favourite damp and musky prison cell of sin. “Watch,” He says; to be vigilant over the workings of our minds and the thoughts that walk through them. Watch, here and now because Christ’s presence is in the present. How will we respond to the knowledge of soul-festering thoughts? Will we let lust take home in our inner crevices? Will we expose those thoughts to the light and let prayer be our saving fortress?

Thoughts creep in more swiftly than they creep out. It is not with gentleness that they can be eradicated “for the kingdom of heaven suffers violence and the violent take it by force,” but with consistent vigilance and prayer. We need hearts ready for the fight, confessing a festering-soul state and a need for One who is merciful. Many who have gone before us prayed incessantly,

“Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me a sinner.”

Humility is a realisation that we need to call upon the name of Jesus as often as we breath. Prayer builds the walls of Jerusalem in our hearts and minds and cements them until the stones cry out for our Saviour. Our minds cannot run empty, there is no moment where we are completely thoughtless, so this prayer recited habitually becomes grafted in our minds, replacing our lustful thoughts. We do not deprive but substitute. Because, every moment I live, I live bowed to something. And if I do not bow to God, I’ll bow down before something else. A prayer of the heart ushers us into reality. A reality where I must meet and accept who I am at this present moment. In a place where we can say with St Paul, “by the grace of God I am what I am.” A reality that has the stillness of heart to listen to His fantasies for me, and not my own. “As for God, his way is perfect: The Lord’s word is flawless; he shields all who take refuge in him.” Psalm 18:30

To pray unceasingly is to be in Christ. It is a sign of death of the flesh, a death to my will and a release of His Spirit in me.

In Him, I am white as snow, even if I stumble 7 times a day (or every minute.) If I cling to remember God’s mercy and this truth, that I am clean then I will be ever more cautious. For the clean can not tolerate a blemish. But if I let the accuser tell me I am the sum of my unrestrained thoughts, then I will become lazy, apathetic and slacken my efforts, for what is one more speck of dirt smeared on a canvas of black? Yet, you and I, we are canvases of lily white, washed in the blood of the Lamb, for He has “swept away your transgressions like a cloud, and your sins like a mist. Return to Me, for I have redeemed you” (Isaiah 44:22).

“Return,” He pleads. Must He wait much longer? Must I leave Him pleading? I thirst for lust, yet He thirsts for me.

There is hope. We are not alone, for He has not left us alone. Our eternal Rock; He is our motivation to be pure as He is, and our grace when we fall. 
So when my hand slips out of His, a thought wastes in me hours and I depart from prayer; I will take the hand of grace and rise again. I will take His hand though my hands are dirty, my wounds still bleed, my heart still fears and the shackles lying on the ground do not look as bad as they once were.

We cannot lie to ourselves and the world any longer; lust is not just every man’s battle, it is also every woman’s battle.

I will choose truth over silence.

May His love that is better than life satisfy our deep hearts.
May it purge away all lesser loves as fire to the dross.
May His presence be our joy, treasure and delight.
May you face the truth of your own darkness and call sin out for what it is.
May we fight for our purity together as we learn to be seized by a greater Affection,

In the Light…

Co-written with Sandra and Monica.

“He [Jesus] went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

Luke 4:16-21

This was Jesus’ response to my wounds, and I needed those exact words. Just picture yourself in that synagogue, sitting right opposite Jesus as He unrolls the scroll and proclaims those words. As He tells you so bluntly and powerfully that He is anointed and that He’s here to proclaim good news to you. Visualize your spiritual poverty now, visualize the state of your Spirit’s health. He’s here to proclaim good news to the poor. That’s you.

Imagine being on the second bench from the back in that synagogue, overwhelmed by work, studies, money, life. Feeling imprisoned and constricted, struggling to breathe from the pressure and anxiety you feel. And now in this very moment, of complete hopelessness, Jesus, the Prince of Heaven, looks directly at you as He holds the scroll of Isaiah and proclaims “I’m here to free the prisoners”. Just His stare, or his voice alone as He speaks these words, shatters the shackles tying you down into fragments. He’s here to proclaim freedom for the prisoners. That’s you.

As you sit in this synagogue full of shame, surrounded by your righteous Jewish brothers and sisters who, in your eyes, keep the law to the word, you begin to feel the weight of sin. And yet again Jesus steals your attention as He reads the next line of the passage and says that He’s here to recover the sight of the blind. You know He’s talking about you. You know you’re the one blinded by the heavy cloud of sin surrounding you. And you know you need recovery of your sight. He’s here to give recovery of sight for the blind. That’s you.

Your eyes start tearing up, tears of joy, tears of peace and comfort, tears of acceptance, of freedom. As you look into His eyes, you can’t help but smile. You can’t wait to hear what other promises He’s about to bestow upon you today. He sees you and with the biggest smile He reads “to set the oppressed free” then looks directly at you. All the oppression of Satan, all his attacks and lies, that’s tied you down is lifted. He’s here to set the oppressed free. That’s you.

You close your eyes in awe of the words Jesus is speaking to you and your Spirit begins offering a song of praise to God. You don’t deserve all this love. It doesn’t make any sense that you, a sinner in the synagogue with a stained heart, should receive these promises from Jesus. And in that moment, in that moment of thankfulness Jesus says that He is here to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. It wasn’t enough for Him to proclaim good news to you, to free you, to recover your sight and to end your oppression. He’s now promising you a year of the Lord’s favor?! A year of joy and freedom in God?! What.

You eyes are wide open. Your whole being is focused on Him. Nothing and no-one but Him, as if all has gone out of focus. Jesus, compassionately smiling, looks directly at you and says to you “today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing”.

You are no longer poor.
You are no longer a prisoner.
You are longer blind.
You are no longer oppressed.

You, are favored by Jesus.

As I received Jesus’ promises this morning I was moved to tears. Life is tough, it’s not easy. We won’t always get what we want when we want, and sometimes it’s just going to be rough. That’s fact. But it’s also fact that Jesus has always and will always be here. It is fact that He has the power to free me from any hardship I go through. And it certainly is fact that I am loved and favored by Him and He delights over me with singing.

Today, let your wounds be healed in the synagogue.

“Masks can be beautiful on the surface, but steal the heart of joy;
yet stunning is the one who isn’t afraid of her secrets.”

– Jennifer Strickland

There’s a cycle – of putting things behind, only for them to return. There’s a gap that we jump from our old life to a new, not knowing that building a bridge can keep us from falling. The gap is shame; the bridge is self-forgiveness.

I am the new man. Cleaned to perfection. But the dirt stain once washed beams brighter on this silk white garment.

The new man grows out of a mere behavior modification; changing my every action until all my habits become good. It is genuine, it does not come out of emptiness, but a deep hunger to be transformed into who I was born to be.

But behavior modification can only run for so long before the fuel runs out, before my appetite for the things ungodly grows.

We change our behaviors and move on from our past, but we do not reconcile with our past self. We condemn our past self and walk away from the person we once were, not knowing that reconciliation is needed, that forgiveness is needed.

Because too often I shut out the memories, I hide back the mistakes done by me, the mistakes done to me and I pretend that my former life never existed; but that’s called faking it. And I refuse to perpetuate the idea that you should “fake it till you make it.”

I want to walk in the liberty that my past self is not just dead and forgotten, but is resurrected and alive in Christ; fully forgiven, fully restored and finally freed.

But I absorb every hidden stone; the indirect critic, the Pharisaic remarks and the voice that begs to call me unforgiven. If history’s giant towers so high above me, surely they can all see it too. Weakened by my inner shame, it calls me to run to isolation.

“If distress is the affect of suffering, shame is the affect of indignity, transgression and of alienation. Though terror speaks to life and death and distress makes of the world a vale of tears, yet shame strikes deepest into the heart of man…. shame is felt as inner torment, a sickness of the soul…. the humiliated one feels himself naked, defeated, alienated, lacking in dignity and worth.”
Silvan Tomkins

I hear Him say, “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.”

But I do not feel it. And the truth is, I’m barely believing it. I’m holding onto his truth with 60% faith, cause shame claims the rest.

But in the darkness of my shame grace lets me see His eyes. There is a gentle kindness in His eyes, a warmth that looks upon me with great love and affection.

“And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how He had said to him, “Before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.”

Luke 22:61

Oh my soul, I know that look. This is far from a look of disappointment. That look that pulls me in close and holds every last part of me I can’t bear, cradling the stifling waves of shame that roar to stillness. The look that says “I will stay,” even in your rejection of Me. It says “I will never leave,” even when you deny Me. The same eyes that looked upon the man with the withered hand and declared healing, the same eyes that wept over Jerusalem’s hardened heart, the same eyes that looked at the rejected lepers and cleansed, the same eyes that looked up at Zaccheus immersed in sin and accepted fully.

These eyes see my pain, understand altogether and do not condemn my past. These eyes write poems of me and not one is disappointed by my weakness but rather longs to enter my pain and overwhelmingly conquer it for me. Because I am His poem and He wrote you and I to reveal Himself and make known the character of God. So the way I choose to tell the story of my past is a gift He has given me.

So I turn and look into myself with His eyes not mine: I look into myself and love what’s there. I look into His eyes daily and choose to believe that there is now no condemnation. I flee the dark thoughts of myself and break through on the wings of grace. I gather each thought, every memory and every action, that broke my heart and breaks it still and love myself through it. I gather them as the sower gathers seeds and plant them in the fault lines of my heart that once quaked my earth and pray for rain. If rain’s His mercy then in the midst of brokenness, gardens will spring and songbirds will wake. Maybe the cracks in my heart are where the most fertile soil for the sowers’ seeds lie.

So I am learning to forgive myself, learning to set myself free.

“Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed;
Neither be disgraced, for you will not be put to shame;
For you will forget the shame of your youth,
And will not remember the reproach of your widowhood anymore.
For your Maker is your husband,
The Lord of hosts is His name;
And your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel;
He is called the God of the whole earth.“
Isaiah 54:4-5

“I found God in myself
and I loved her
I loved her fiercely.”
– Ntozake Shang

Co-written with Sandra.

Check out part one here!

“you carry your snare everywhere and spread your nets in all places. You allege that you never invite others to sin. You did not indeed by your words, but you have done so by our dress and your department… When you have made another sin in his heart how can you be innocent? Tell me, whom does the world condemn? Whom do judges punish? Those who drink the poison or those who administer the fatal portion? You have prepared the abominable cup, you have given the death dealing drink, and you are more criminal than those who poison the body; you murder not the body but the soul. And it is not to enemies you do this nor are you urged on by any imaginary necessity, nor provoked by injury, but of foolish vanity and pride.”
St John Chrysostom

Distressed by this perilous power, possessed by us, the carriers of the XX chromosome. A strategic power we oft deny, secretly delighting in its effects.

Because the truth is, we notice a man’s affection, we notice when we are the object of any mans attention. We are not blind, hard-hearted machines that are immune to any form of charm or attraction. A sweet-talking man is a sweet-talking man, as Antarctica summer’s are cold.

And this power I observe upon the consumption of attention and words of affirmation. This power that devours the lustful thoughts of man, intertwined with my deep longing to be the object of man’s affection. This power, a sexual upper hand, knowing that a move in this direction, or a certain look, will hold him captive; reeling the subject around my finger. A power all too often used to seduce and manipulate.

Because no matter where you look, there it is, leaving an undeniable impression; the sultry expression on youthful faces, the come-get-me eyes, the flirtatious words and the promiscuous dress code.

And don’t we all desire to be found appealing? At the surface it is the perfect “subtle” manner to receive that mans’ attention, but at its core, it is the thirst for the alluring power of control.

Though this power be strong, it is hollow, obliterating Truth, and holds the captivators captive.

We only ever hear of men, how supposedly, men hurt, cheat and lie. How men are lustful beings, unable to control their desires. But oft I find that it is we, we who possess this XX chromosome, who are unable to control; we are the merciless perpetrators, with men as our prey.

Because with this power comes control, the control of having him at my feet.

So I take mine to Him. I open His word and as a mirror I see a portrait of my flaunting and enticing behaviour.

She “captures him with her eyelashes, luring him with just a look”

Proverbs 6:25

The words tug and snag and I pull. She is I. I read on and the picture comes into focus and sharpens.

“And behold, a woman comes to meet him, dressed as a harlot and cunning of heart. She is boisterous and rebellious, her feet do not remain at home; She is now in the streets, now in the squares, and lurks by every corner. So she seizes him and kisses him and with a brazen face she (speaks) to him . . .”

Proverbs 7:10-13.

What will be the grand result of my actions? Will I take the world by storm or will I be dashed to pieces on the rocks of deception?

“Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways, do not stray into her paths; For she has cast down many wounded, And all who were slain by her were strong men. Her house is the way to hell, Descending to the chambers of death.”
Proverbs 7:25-27

With power comes a choice. Under the influence of a woman, cities have crumbled (Joshua 2-6), and kings have caved (Mark 6).

When we travel to the start the truth is laid bare.

“The man called his wife’s name Eve [life giver], because she would be the mother of all the living.”

Genesis 3:20

A woman was created not by accident or chance but with purpose: born to be a helper. A name, an identity, a declaration is given. To be an echo of Christ instead of echoing the world. To encourage and uplift men like many women have done before us.

Feminine beauty was never about radiating sensuality but radiating an aroma of the stunning beauty of Christ, a breath of fresh air…of life.

“So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding.”

Romans 14:19.

Nancy Leigh DeMoss says, “If our hearts are right with God—if we’re walking in purity and humility before Him—the fruit will be a modest external appearance.”

With great power, comes great responsibility. We can reach out to others, spread truth, and encourage the lives around us. This means we have great power. And along with that great power, we are also given the great responsibility to use it wisely.

May we never allow our outward beauty to diminish the beauty He is weaving within our soul.

May we run with hoarse throats, exhausted lungs, and full hearts proclaiming the glorious loveliness of Jesus Christ and not with banners of our own loveliness.

So draw if we must, but let us draw others shamelessly to Beauty Himself.

“How beautiful are the arms, which have embraced Christ-the eyes which have gazed upon Christ, the lips which have spoken with Christ, the feet which have followed Christ. How beautiful are the hands which have worked the works of Christ, the feet which are treading in His footsteps have gone about doing good, the lips which have spread abroad His Name, the lives which have been counted for Him.”
Christina Rosetti

Co-written with Sandra.

Baba, Lord, my King and my God – Jesus Christ my hope:

If there was ever a time that I made You smile, if there was ever a time when You called me Your beloved son, if there was ever a time that I found favor in Your sight… then hear these words Lord. Hear me now.

I need You to save me. “Behold, the LORD’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; nor His ear heavy, that it cannot hear².” You promised to save me.³ I can’t do this without You.⁴ I can barely stand in the battle⁵, much less win the war.

You told me, “My son, give me your heart”⁶ … it’s Yours.

You said “do not be afraid, only believe”⁷… I believe Lord, help my unbelief!!!⁸

You promised that you’d never let go of me… that You’d always be there for me.⁹ Manifest Yourself to me. I want to feel Your presence and witness Your saving grace.¹⁰

How long oh Lord, how long must I wrestle with my thoughts and everyday have sorrow in my heart?¹¹ Look to me and see my anguish and deliver me for Your names sake. I am poor. I am needy; I need you.

Teach me to trust in You… to love You more. To see Your hand working when everything seems lost.. when all seems desperately hopeless.

I want to show You my obedience so that You know that I love You.¹² As You know and as You will.. have mercy, according to Your tender mercies which are from of old. Remember not the sins of my youth or my rebellious ways.. but in Your great love.. remember me.¹³

“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do.”¹⁴ Let it not be so my Lord Jesus… let it not be so. By Your grace; by Your strength.

Give me to fight the good fight of faith that I may lay hold on eternal life!¹⁵ Let me not trade the Kingdom for a thought not pleasing to Your goodness.

Open my eyes and teach me; help me realize how much I’m hurting You… how much I’m hurting myself.

I desire purity of heart.. so that I may see You¹⁶.. so that I may touch You .. and know You more.

I don’t want to be like every other great man of faith who fell to this one sin. “She has cast down many wounded, and all who were slain by her were strong men.”¹⁷ If that is the case Lord than what of me?!

If David fell with Bathsheba¹⁸, if Sampson gave into Delilah¹⁹, if the wisest man on earth, King Solomon, gave his heart to foreign women and eventually turned his heart away from the One True God²⁰, if Elijah ran from Jezebel because he believed that she had power to destroy him even though You were protecting him²¹, than what of me! The weak, the feeble, the heartbroken.

Come Lord and give me the strength to fight this battle. Give me a passion for You.. to struggle.. to overcome.. to be purified!! I need Your help. I need You to motivate me to overcome.²² I want to love You more Lord. I pray that You don’t take the war away, but that You instead allow me to be victorious.²³ I want You to be so proud of me.

-Your Beloved²⁴

¹ 2 Corinthians 2:10
² Isaiah 59:1
³ Romans 10:13
⁴ John 15:5
⁵ Ephesians 6:11
⁶ Proverbs 23:26
⁷ Mark 5:36
⁸ Mark 9:23-24
⁹ Deuteronomy 31:6
¹⁰ 2 Corinthians 6:2
¹¹ Psalm 13:2
¹² John 14:15
¹³ Psalm 25:7
¹⁴ Romans 7:15
¹⁵ 1 Timothy 6:12
¹⁶ Matthew 5:8
¹⁷ Proverbs 7:26
¹⁸ 2 Samuel 11
¹⁹ Judges 16
²⁰ 1 Kings 11:4-8
²¹ 1 Kings 19
²² Psalm 51:12
²³ Romans 8:37
²⁴ John 13:23

Now, I dont know about you, but something about that tugged a little at my heart. It sounds exciting. I want that. Its the kind of love we ‘oooh’ and ‘awww’ at when we hear about from our friends in relationships, the kind of love we dream about finding when ‘that’ song is played on the radio and the kind of love we watch in movies like ‘A Walk To Remember’ and let it touch us to the point of tears and that we can shout most of the lines with the actors at the screen from the amount of times we have watched it. They are our favourite movies after all!

Something about reckless abandon and love just fits. It clicks. It seems right, and it seems like we deserve it. And we just cant wait for it to show up and knock us off our feet. But why is it we call over our girlfriends for late night sleepovers that revolve around gushing and swooning about the lucky day that happens but when we apply those exact same sentiments, that same reckless abandon to God we struggle with that idea?

God is Dad, I obey Him. God is my Best friend, I’ll talk to him. But God is my lover, I’ll fall crazily-madly in love with Him and let him sweep me so off my feet that I can’t help talking about how sweet He is to all my friends and I cant help but let my heart break for what breaks His and I can’t help but only go where I can take Him with me because I like to hold His hand everywhere I go? No thank you.

Why is it we would all jump with joy if that man who caught our eye at church asked us out on a date for Valentine’s, but the idea of going to church with a rose to spend time sitting with our Creator seems pathetic and something to mock someone about? Why is it when one of our friends’ relationship goes official, tons of people like the photos they put up of themselves and comment about how cute and lucky they are but the idea of us posting a status about how much God has won our heart would make people want to click off the page as quickly as possible? Why is it our hearts sprint at a million beats per minute when that attractive man looks our way but when we open our Bibles and read His eternal promises, dripping with the unconditional love of His sacrifice, we find it difficult to not fall asleep? Why do we spend energy and time trying to find out the things the men we are interested in like and dislike (and coincidentally they start becoming the things we like or dislike!) but we’re more than happy to know the bare minimum of what Christ likes from us?

Isn’t it funny that it was all His idea anyway – this big old fairytale where we get fought for and rescued from our lonely misery to get lost on this epic adventure with the One who would die for us – but we refuse spending those desires on the One who created them and would rather spend them on that which He created? Isn’t it funny because in fact He’s actually the only One whose genuinely worth it, who genuinely deserves it.

Christ alone died for our hearts, Christ alone deserves our hearts. All of our hearts.

Have you ever thought that maybe it’s not too much of a bad idea to love Jesus with that much zeal and fervour the way we’d love our boyfriends or husbands one day, not being able to make it through an hour without thinking of them, always finding little ways to sneak in a little for time with them during your day. You see that’s how love was meant to work. It shouldn’t be any different because we are talking about God. If anything it should be more! His love is the most extravagant love, we’ll taste. Just think of the day you’ll see him face to face and you take that first look into the One whose eyes blaze with a jealous fire over you! But dont think of how you’ll feel, instead think of the happiness when He sees you (it’s that way in weddings – if we want to see joy, we look in the grooms face). If for the joy set before Him he endured the cross, can you imagine what will happen when he finally gets hold of that joy? When he finally grabs us and never lets go of our hands?

You are His joy. You are the life Christ died to save.

One day Jesus will gaze at us with satisfaction, and every bit of struggle, every bit of fighting I did to make Him my everything, my one and only True Love, every idol I refuse to flirt with, every time I refuse to exchange His role as my number one Comforter and Provider and Lover in my life for a man, every time I love him like crazy-all those times will be worth it. They won’t only be worth it, I’ll probably wish I’d have been more crazy for Him!