"on a bloody friday filled with nails and wood and a man who would do what God only could.
arms open wide to die for the very people who hung Him out and bled Him dry
on a dark friday.  a shout to the sky, a spear to the side, two marys start to cry
as angry earth trembles and black clouds swell.
quietly Jesus goes through hell
dying in our place.
how is it that a day of such evil and pain ever got the word 'good' in its name?
this day of infamy, human villainy. 
when the world showed off it's most evil face
because there, in that blood-stained place, when they pulled the body down like seed to ground
the author of life sprouted roots of grace
that would once and for all save the human race.
this victory death. 
a complete surprise
as demons and devils with fear in their eyes
realize
that once a perfect man died
the law was finally satisfied
the man who lived the way we should
died the way only God could
and that's why we call this friday good.

the day Christ fell
is the day mercy stood."

^^(from this spoken word)^^

"He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
    and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him,
    nothing in his appearance that we should desire Him.
3 He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
like one from whom people hide their faces
    He was despised, and we held Him in low esteem.
4 Surely He took up our pain and bore our suffering,
yet we considered Him punished by God,
    stricken by Him, and afflicted.
5 But He was pierced for our transgressions,
    He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on Him,
    and by His wounds we are healed.
6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
    each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
    the iniquity of us."

isaiah 53:1-6

http://simpleandsincere.weebly.com/1/post/2014/01/you-are-the-air.html

thanking God for my beautiful friend becca and her words that breathe deep love for Jesus.  touched my heart today.  oh, i love this girl dearly.

this is the part that gets me the most:

"they may seem dead, these straight white boxes
but my God has a way of loving that reaches into all depths
and pulls me out of all darkness
even if that darkness is the steady glow of artificial light on white walls

He streams through the windows, penetrating my eyes and my skin
He whispers "hope" while my education professors scream "hopeless"
He brings child after child to me to show His tender physical touch
He speaks in the voice of dr. stephens, reminding me it is all about loving people
He gives me an attitude and a confidence i know are beyond myself

even here among these suffocatingly white walls and straight chairs
you are the air that breathes life into this dusty soul"

mm.

In age and feebleness extreme,
Who shall a helpless worm redeem?
Jesus, my only hope Thou art,
Strength of my failing flesh and heart:
O could I catch one smile from Thee,
And drop into eternity!

been meditating on these words a bunch lately.  they are just so beautiful to me.  i love so much how words can move a person and speak so agelessly to this same love for the Father.  so much love through these words and such a knowing.  i know charles wesley knew God because of these words.  i so desire this for my life.

Over spring break, I went on a trip to Lac Courte Oreille Indian Reservation with Intervarsity, the Christian group on campus that I am passionate about.  Because the point of this trip was to love on a culture most of us were unfamiliar with, a week before we left, we were prompted to write poems about our own backgrounds, cultures, and the unique features of our stories.  We never did end up sharing them, unfortunately, but this is mine.  The process of writing this was a happy one, as I was flooded with memories of the people who mean the most to me and the times I've shared with them.  To say that I am grateful just does not suffice.  I would encourage you to also take some time to reflect on what characterized your past.

I am from a cul de sac biked around a million times,
from full flower beds and driveway cracks

I am from bunk beds and Yo-J,
from happy  summers and chasing the sun
 
Where family  means best friends
and Mom & Dad have the same Saturday morning spots
 
I am from imagining and creating,
with eyes that are wide and watching my father
 
I am from a man whose kind eyes showed me Jesus,
with strong hands that taught me His ways

From a hard-working woman with curly hair
who loves deep, wide, and selflessly
 
I am from a Jeep's left backseat,
the middle  and right belonging to my sisters-
always my sisters, never leaving my side
 
I am from Kathy's house after school,
I am from Supermarket Sweep and roundbrush singing,
From the "mushroom pool" and snow forts, safe car rides and family dinners
 
I am one of  forty kindergarteners
who became forty high school graduates
 
I am from selfishness, neediness, brokenness,
But I am from two patient and faithful parents
 
I am from a  world colored by the grace of knowing a beautiful Lord,
I am from the kindness of a Father who gave me these dear souls