1:12am.

That’s what the clock on my dashboard read a mere eleven minutes ago.
The night was clear, the ride easy. The roads were barren, save for a few of us renegades who dared to tempt the police with easy prey for unfilled quotas. As I stared at the yellow lines, their staccato rhythm hypnotizing, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to swerve across the lanes of traffic into the oncoming lane.

Relax, I was not contemplating suicide. That side of the road was empty.
I almost laughed to myself at the arrival of the unwelcome urge. There was no one to discuss this sudden weirdness with. So I contemplated what would give rise to it. It hit me a moment later.

I’d never driven on that side of the road before.
Is that a good enough reason?
There are reasons I have not: the aforementioned police, the promise of safety should I remain in my own lane. The eerie vine of nervousness crept into my gut, spurring a jolt of adrenaline into my heart to make me uneasy. The thought goaded me—accused me. You don’t have the guts.

I didn’t.
It’s probably a good thing, looking back. It’s strange to think, however, that there are things I refuse to do simply because I’ve never seen them done, or done them myself. I could fill a book with the things I’ve seen. I could fill volumes with things I haven’t. I’ve never seen cattle take flight. I’ve never seen a sunset in Jerusalem.

Because I’ve never seen it—does that make it not happen? Is it impossible? I have seen men live; they breathe, they eat. But I’ve never seen one die.

And they do.
I’ve seen the effects of death. I’ve felt the effects of its icy grip on a loved one.

I’ve never seen a man crucified. I’ve never seen a man raised from the dead.

To think…
Could a man return from death? Conquer it?
Could a man be perfect—sinless?
Could a perfect God wrap Himself in flesh?
Could a wretched man be made clean? For nothing?

No price?
No demand?

My economics professor told me there is no such thing as a free lunch. Nothing free at all, to broaden it. Someone has to pay for it.

He’s right.

I’ve been told that man’s heart is desperately wicked. The evidence is buried in my chest. Some things need not be seen. Some things require trust, and faith.

Someone paid my debt. I didn’t even see it happen. But I heard about it.
And oh, I’ve felt its effects.

Faces hold in time
Cast upon my mind
The audience captivated is me and only mine
And I see it flow
I don’t know
How so fast life can go so slow
But I’m sure I want you to keep me company
Is it strange to think eternally when we are still so young?
Do you see our lives that way–or is it only some?
Well I know for sure
What I’m living for
It doesn’t take much faith–only trust
And I’m so glad for you
That you’re here to help me through
It won’t be long till He comes back for us

What is all this fragility?
This mindless vulnerability?
The race against it and the embarrassing need for it—
It becomes too much for thought.
Has mankind been set up for this abbreviation of happiness?
Is it measured from sorrow to sorrow with the brief glitch of joy interspersed only to define the sorrow more deeply?
Deprived of a gas tank of the red liquid beneath my decaying skin,
I would be nothing.
It is apparent that it is actually nothing that holds my skin to itself—knit tight enough to trap my beloved vitality beating in my veins.
So fragile—so sorrowful
For how can something so weak and defenseless find true security and joy in its own acts?—A change in the atmosphere could betray our decrepit husks to freeze or fry, and we would be unable to protest. Such looming fate could leave one antsy. The inevitability of death could leave others depressed.

Thank God for God.

Without Him, one could feel insecure.
But where do we have to fall, save into His Hands?

Deeper, deeper, more than I thought
And steeper, steeper, more times than not
This decline is a landslide plagued by rain
To slick the rocks, yet dull my pain
I forgot what water is, when shallow
When did my footsteps lead to the gallows?
To hang myself or hang my pride
My heart and mind will not decide
Could I throw them away and lean on You?
Reckless abandoned faith in the Truth?
My soul and truth have mingled, yet
The world, my heart will not forget
Oh, the vanity of taking the bait
Men clutching the wind until it’s too late
All the while to the anthem of “I’ll never care!”
Amidst profound Grace that makes all life unfair
For our deeds and our actions—the return we are due
Is eternal damnation and absence from You
Oh, unsearchable Glory and fiery might
You humble the haughty and use all for right
Even I, who stumble to this valley’s bare floor
Where the hangman awaits, and beyond is no more
The air seems to spark—the deafening cold
Prods the darkness yet closer, to press me in its mold
And just as the noose has slid over my throat
Dissonant madness was my heart’s final note
I cry to You, “Father, forgive me, God please!”
And I’m where I belong; I’m back on my knees
The valley, the hangman, the gallows are gone
Just as my Father’s memory of my wrong
Oh, the vanity found out in vanity’s core
I am born to this world, but am of it no more

At times I fall and skin my knees—this epidemic, my disease
It’s buried deeper in my veins
It gathers on the window pains; like rain, of which I can’t escape
It drowns me in its frigid wake
Oh, why in daylight must I fall?
When darkness brings to you my all
The things I could and should have done
Eclipsed by sin—the sin that won
I love you, God, but to let it show is the hardest act my heart could know
It takes the death of who I am
Defines the core of a righteous man
So I confess again, with pen
For everything I could have been
The how and why, for every when
I’ll follow you until the end

That dizzying, inevitable, crystallized moment when there’s nothing else for you but Love. Passionate, compelling, unrelenting and unrestrained Love. Not the brand you’ve been sold in every way conceivable—from billboards to the airwaves—no, I write about a Love that’s much more subtle. It whispers in the streets amidst speeding cars and chirping mobiles. It speaks a language foreign to our ears—uttered in a tone so beautiful it has the power to revolutionize hearts and minds in the breadth of a moment. I don’t want to confuse you; this is not some whimsical fairy-tale Love, aimed at thickening your wallet and boosting your popularity. This love of which I write is the Love of Jesus Christ—the great I AM—Creator, Savior, and Lord over heaven and earth alike. But this love is not extended free of charge. Let me rephrase that. His love is a gift that anyone can receive, and it is freely given, but to accept it is to surrender to it completely. For to know this Love is to give it.

But this love is not something to merely be mentioned. It is not a spiritual bandwagon. The Love He gives is consuming. If your most beloved were to lay down their life—to be beaten, bruised, and tortured unto death—would it not move you? Would you not tell of their sacrifice and seek justice for the crime? A day would not pass without their sacrifice burning up your heart and mind. And your love for the ones you love most are to appear as hatred when compared to your love for Jesus—the One who did lay down His life for you (Luke 14:26). That’s right—passionate and deep-running love.

Every praise song you breathe is a love song to Him. When I write love songs and sing them to my significant other, would I interrupt myself periodically to tell a joke or inquire as to where she wanted to eat lunch that afternoon? What a ridiculous thought. So how can we act that way in regard to Jesus?

In a big way I think many of us have lost sight of the Love we have for Him. That first moment when you felt the depth of His Love has been forgotten in a sea of media. We forget Him although he surrounds us in countless ways throughout every day—the honesty of a friend, or the selflessness of a stranger. Joy, peace, kindness, and love—these are merely symptoms of who God himself is. And he Loved us before we even existed, in a way and depth that is truly a mystery to grasp. How can we not love Him in return?

Once I met a pretty girl
who took my world
She made it all beautiful, just like her
And one night, as I fell asleep
I realized she’d been a dream
Still every time I blink I see her face

Now every night
I pray we’ll meet behind my eyes

I hope that dreams are something more
A hint of things yet in store
I’ll find you here, in this world of stone
Or maybe I could visit you
In a world all our own
But I’ll still wake… and I’ll wake alone

And every night
I search her world with all my might

Maybe in a bed of her own
She falls asleep and dreams of me
Maybe we were meant to be in love
In dreams

I know that guy. Grew up in church; Christian parents—just like me. Looked Jesus in the face, met his eyes between the lines of Scripture. But I see no growth. Maybe it’s lust. Maybe it’s the flesh—the pride of life. But I know him. Grew up with him. Maybe he loves Jesus. Or maybe someday he’ll hear “depart from me, I never knew you.” Is it my responsibility to bring him into my circle—to try and strengthen his Christianity? Is the question that simple?

It’s sticky. Jesus loved the whores, rich, and heroine-addicted. But He didn’t make them His constant company—His close friends. He had the 12. And even then, as it says in John (Chapter 2:24-25), Jesus entrusted himself to no man because he knew what was in man. I recognize that I am not Jesus and I need people to be there for me. But as it says in Proverbs: “As iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.”

So I must ask myself—is this a ministry or am I being made dull? Is it selfishness or wisdom to pull away from a friend who won’t turn from his sin—even if he is a Christian “deep down?”

I suppose I’m learning that the people with whom you spend your time are of much greater consequence than it seems on the surface. Though we are absolutely called to love, my flesh is easily swayed and my heart needs protection. Jesus went into the world—for sure—but He wasn’t a part of it. And it wasn’t a part of Him. Jeremiah told us (Chapter 17:9) “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” I believe that Jesus is the only one I can give my heart to. And the others that come behind? The ones that I spend my real time with in this uphill battle for humanity? They had better be chosen wisely. Because I’ll fall—I do often. Will they be there to pick me up or pull me down?

Colossians 3:1-4:

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you will also appear with him glory.”

We are truly dead men walking. For our end comes soon. The misfits and the freaks—we walk alone in a world that doesn’t understand us. Like a celestial game, we are placed on this path from the beginning, gifted with a book to lead us straight to the gates of heaven. How ridiculous is a residence in this place? It is not our home, nor could it ever be.

This is the preparation before the leap—the breath before the fall. And the closer we grow to Christ, the more like Him we become. Death becomes not something to flee from, but something to hope for. “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21) The more like Christ we become, the closer to eternity we are. And once we pass through death, it will make reality what has been in the making our whole lives. Meeting face to face the King who has been growing inside us all along. A life lived for self is nothing short of tragic waste.

We feel the soul stir inside of us, crying out for the touch of a savior. The only one justified in casting the first stone took it. The only one innocent died to redeem the desperately lost. When we hated Him, He taught us how to love. When we were unfaithful, He stooped to teach us strength. What should have been a world of men nailed to the crosses purchased with their actions was one lonely soul held up by our wrongs. Nailed down with his precious arms was our sin—sin forever condemned to a death we now need not taste. And do I now stand with cold eyes and a petrified heart, watching him die—the kiss of betrayal yet screaming on my lips?

Can it not break the hardest of hearts to know that the only one who will ever truly love us died when we hated him? When we didn’t ask him to? And here angels and demons are locked in epic warfare around us while we watch television. The chains of bondage wear wrists raw on thousands of souls and we’re asleep. My knees are too un-skinned—my cheeks too dry. May God have mercy on our foolish hearts and calloused souls.

Can we really be blameless before God when his children are hungry not twenty miles away? Is it not our obligation to change this world he’s given us? To *“…pray as if it all depends on Him and live as if it all depends on (us)”? Because Paul got it right when he said, “To live is Christ, and to die is gain.” There is truly no reason to live if it is not to be more like Christ. To kill off this flesh now rather than later—to bare our souls to the world. Can’t you feel the difference? Feel your soul wrestle with your flesh? Which side is winning? When you finally reach our home in heaven, will the voice of Jesus sound strange? Or will it be the voice that you’ve been hearing in your heart all along?

*The Vision – Red Moon Rising (Pete Greig)

You are the innocent if I am the blame
My heart is fire if You are the rain
Me inconsistent, though You are the same
You are the lover—I play the game

What shall I give You?—the words of my tongue?
What’s the hymn’s meaning if it’s only sung?
Jesus, my Jesus, the Glorious One
May You be my all, and I left with none
Be my erosion—wear me away
Teach me to love You and don’t let me stray
God, how I wander, how my heart is gray
God, how I need you, please show me the way

Don’t let me fall—please make me as new
Wear me away until I’m just like you