The Jesus of Insurrection

The Jesus of insurrection

ascends from the flames

of Gehenna,

He walks on waves

in black and white

He leaves fingerprints

on my lips,

flames leap

to absolute green

He settles and waits.

Events condense as fog.

I wear my reality as tight

as skin; the slightest

break will kill


RG 1986-2015-2018


from Beauty Beyond Bones


Have you ever baked a cake with a toddler?

If you haven’t, well, let’s just say that it’s…an experience.


A cute, photo-op filled, splatter-fest, that, if you’re lucky, results in a cake that’s barely holding on for dear life.

This happened today.

You see, we’re celebrating my now-four-year-old niece’s birthday tonight while we’re all up at our lake home in Wisconsin for the Fourth of July.

And so this afternoon, part of making today special for her was to bake her birthday cake together.

She loves cooking in the kitchen, especially when it involves something sweet, so needless to say, she was having a ball.

And if you know anything about almost-four year olds, they are very independent, and want to do things themselves. And baking this cake was no different.

I’ll tell you what, the Type A perfectionist in me was doing everything I could to not just grab…

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Until the End of the World

Until the End of the World
            Until the End of the World
In my dream I was drowning in Sorrows
But my sorrows they learned to swim
Surrounding me, going down on me
Spilling over the brim





Bring Home Jesus

A beautiful post!

Victoria Dillard Daily

I want to bring Jesus home with me.

But I can’t.

I don’t.

I don’t know why I don’t bring him home with me after today, Sunday. When his love sits beside me and sings along. I feel his love, want his love, would devour his love in front of every other starving heart, displaying my selfish nature.

I want to bring Jesus home with me. I want to put him in my cart with my eggs, my bacon, my orange juice and milk, my daily requirements. I want him easy to replenish, or borrow from a neighbor should I need a quarter cup more.

I want to know him with certainty, with the same confidence and reliability and predictability that I know fatigue and the dark still hours before dawn.

But it wouldn’t seem right to toss him in with a cart of disposable goods, everyday items, and yet…

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