in the words of jazz
Tonight i see vision and purpose in Tallahassee. A relaxing day of getting stuff done only slightly brushes the surface of the work God is doing deep inside. I feel at home, not in Tallahassee, but in my skin. I am satisfied, and content, and while that may change as soon as I look in a mirror, the reality is that God has been challenging and waking me up for a while now.
My mom used to use different techniques to wake my sister and I up in the morning. Her personal favorite was standing at the door with a watergun and just shooting the stream of cold water right at our faces. This was usually welcomed with some hateful screaming from myself or my sister. Country music tops my favorite of torture techniques my parents used. Well, it appears to me this week that God has a similar style. I have kicked and screamed. I have said some terrible things. And God has pulled the sheets off me and now I find myself naked and crying at my shortcomings. Like an addict going cold turkey, this has been a process of painful seperation from the things that were keeping me from growing the way God has been wanting me to grow. At moments he has given me the strength and at other times he has given others the role of taking away my drug. They havent coincided. Until now.
Tonight RJ and I went to the Warehouse for some jazz and a pipe. I felt in my skin. Not at first, mind you, I had to find myself there. There is distraction; but when a guy named CJ came and stood next to us, shared some casual friendly words which gave him permission to share our space, I saw in him what I needed. I looked over at one point and saw him, in the middle of a crowded bar, surrounded by beautiful women, beer, and smoke, and he had his eyes closed and was just soaking in the music. That is why I was there. The music cried for me. The music spoke the words that my aching soul has been needing to say. And there was peace. God invaded that place.
The bartender made a comment about RJ and me, standing at the bar, drinking a beer and smoking our pipes. He said that we were true "blue blood". I am here for a reason. God has made that clear. He has taught me, grown me, hurt me, and brought me to places where He can work his miracles.
So, thank you bartender. Thank you CJ. Thank you God.
My mom used to use different techniques to wake my sister and I up in the morning. Her personal favorite was standing at the door with a watergun and just shooting the stream of cold water right at our faces. This was usually welcomed with some hateful screaming from myself or my sister. Country music tops my favorite of torture techniques my parents used. Well, it appears to me this week that God has a similar style. I have kicked and screamed. I have said some terrible things. And God has pulled the sheets off me and now I find myself naked and crying at my shortcomings. Like an addict going cold turkey, this has been a process of painful seperation from the things that were keeping me from growing the way God has been wanting me to grow. At moments he has given me the strength and at other times he has given others the role of taking away my drug. They havent coincided. Until now.
Tonight RJ and I went to the Warehouse for some jazz and a pipe. I felt in my skin. Not at first, mind you, I had to find myself there. There is distraction; but when a guy named CJ came and stood next to us, shared some casual friendly words which gave him permission to share our space, I saw in him what I needed. I looked over at one point and saw him, in the middle of a crowded bar, surrounded by beautiful women, beer, and smoke, and he had his eyes closed and was just soaking in the music. That is why I was there. The music cried for me. The music spoke the words that my aching soul has been needing to say. And there was peace. God invaded that place.
The bartender made a comment about RJ and me, standing at the bar, drinking a beer and smoking our pipes. He said that we were true "blue blood". I am here for a reason. God has made that clear. He has taught me, grown me, hurt me, and brought me to places where He can work his miracles.
So, thank you bartender. Thank you CJ. Thank you God.
posted by Michael Anthony | 12:39 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home