His Blood can wash us clean

Shallow capacity is bearing all I see, and I know It's disease, it's loss, it's death knocking at my door
I click these thoughts to something else, something more.
I'm so blue, you're so blue.

Detached harmonies, all the airways scream dissonance And we know of broken life, broken homes,
Broken hearts and broken bones, Recycling the paper of a crying world's suicide note and
We're so blue, so blue.

See the world spinning round A sucking hole that souls go down
Embrace the sorrow of today because repentance finds a way
Only His blood can heal our wounds Only His blood can heal our wounds
And if repentance finds a way, what's left today to be.….blue?

A final symphony, The precipice too close, you're scaring me -- back away
Sin is real, it doesn't feel, It always, only always, steals.
Run to the cross the only joy that's real.
-Downhere, So Blue

Prophesies

Prophesies are odd things. You want to believe them, becuase they are the words from God thru someone else, but when you think you know how it's to come, it's painful, and how do you tell others? Will they believe you, or will they understand? Only God does. That at least is very reassuring.

Home on the range

Home on the range. Like a stove. Scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, a big old mess. Moving, settling, adjusting and changes. It's always a little different each time. Funny, I never thought I'd be moving and settling this much, but it's really, a growing chance. Except I have a sneaking suspicion that I wont really know the growth until later.

Rain rain go away.

Raining all week has given me some time to think. Rain can be happy, it can be sad, much like us. It can feel cozy, or irritated, again, much like us. But the rain always changes, it's never the same. You can judge that the current rain was just like the last. But you would be wrong. The constant changes leave us feeling lost sometimes, but it always works out. Usually becuase you need a good cloud, and a great place to land. The rain can pool up and not miss it's cloud, but it usually hits ground. Soft and soakable, or hard and unforgiving. But as small as the rain can be, it usually isnt unnoticed. The impact, either small or large, is still there.

Growing Up

Growing up is a tricky tricky thing. I think as a child I felt being adult would be easy, since I would have practice at problems. Well, as much as I love being older, it doesn't get easier, but I just need to remember that it doesn't have to be harder.

The title of my blog is based of of 2 Corinthians 12:9. His grace is sufficient for me. His power perfected in weakness.
These words help me, calm me down, bring my worldly focus back to God.