Holy Wind

The pastor is doing a series on the Holy Spirit. Thought I’d re-post the blog I wrote about this topic.

...because healing spreads

Words are useless.  I can tell my son how much I love a paper he’s written. He can take what I’ve said and think I’m saying he usually doesn’t try.  I can tell my husband how much I’ve missed him.  He can hear from those words that I’m angry he’s been insensitive about the amount of hours he spends away from home.

The topic of speaking in tongues has been a divisive one.  This past week I spent some time in the book of Acts and was taken back at the immense waste of time we’ve helped ourselves to at being right – all the while missing the point.  The squabble has been foreign language (seen by the counter as a way to feel superior) versus an unknown language of angels (seen by the counter as demon possessed blathering).  Did I adequately rock the boat?

Everyday I can be speaking…

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Bedsheets of Beelzebub

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The bedsheets of Beelzebub

That scratch and itch

And wrongly rub

Little balls of itchy wrinkles

Like a dog poop salad

With little sprinkles

Like the sleep of a guilty conscience

Like an itchy canine

Scraping his haunches

But cross the river to Target’s door

With one months pay and a little more

Fresh like Heaven’s rescue netting

We float away on brand new bedding

By Ted Boyl-Davis

September 16, 2016

Sleep Apnea

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“The hose of solitude,”

he says

The tube that carries air to lungs

For tired body fast asleep

a-dreaming dreams forgets to breathe

“The hose of solitude”

he says

And so he leaves it lying there

And lays beside me

gasping hard

The man is breathing shallow snores

And now no breath

Long stretch of still

If I can wait

he’s got to breath

I can not take this sleepless night!

The moments pass

Before I dig

With elbow into silent side

The gasp

and now he starts again

He starts right up as my heart jumps

The hose of air

Might it be true

Could mean more left of me and you

Lisa Boyl-Davis

September 7, 2016

Real Prayer

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This prayer to God was written by a beautiful survivor of the most hideous of abuse.  It’s a real prayer to God.  I’m posting this with her permission as I think we all need to challenge preconceived ideas about what a proper prayer looks like, and assumptions about people unable to imagine a loving God.  The God I worship wept.  He welcomes honesty. Even of the rawest form.  Thank you Trinity for allowing me to share your letter.

 

I so long for a Father figure,

someone to gently love me without abuse,

without conditions, without fear of judgment.

You, God are suppose to be my ultimate Father,

on one side, I still so desperately long for your affections, your love,

and at times I see glimpses of that in the children you’ve place in my life,

through other people,

through the promises in your Word.

But lately there is this other side,

this darkness within me that rages at you

and doesn’t understand how you have a plan for my life,

or that you care about the broken hearted.

A part of me that see you no differently than I view my abuser,

as a monster,

because only a monster would allow children to be abused,

would allow my own parents to crave drugs so bad that selling me,

their youngest child,

was like selling a used shirt at a yard sale,

something you don’t think twice about.

And then you create me to need love and attention,

the very things that got me hurt in the first place!

Why would I come running to you?!!

You didn’t protect me,

you sure as hell didn’t stop the bastards that used me like trash for years.

If you want me to truly trust you God,

you’ve got to break the wall down,

because it’s high and thick and not coming down without some serious work on your part.

I’m tired of praying to what seems like thin air,

only to battle the demons within me so much more.

You say you’re a healer and you heal the broken hearted.

Where’s the healing???

When does it come?

When do I get release from the monsters of mental illness?

The hell and torture of PTSD?

The little Trinity needs her Abba Father,

but the adult me wants to never let you close to her.

I need some answers, God

if we are going to work together to heal little Trinity.

Written by Trinity