Light Writes

  Dear human: Writing.  I write from experiential wisdom.  Writing is my way out. I write for you, but for me, also. I write for us. My writing frees me, too. I need to read my own work because you and I are the same. 'Human'. I love when God is glorified through man through the image displayed of us. I love that it all reveals God's glamorous essence and vast mind and creative power. I don't want to miss and make myself out to be a 'god' who has a perfect image.  Light, the writer of this blog, isn't perfect. Even while I serve on any platform, my robe is stained. We make mistakes, and I make many. I wrestle with flesh daily. I battle sin and carnal nature. My mind is sometimes messy. I am no more of an ordinary man than you are. I fear the Lord, but I am not Wisdom. I speak the truth, but I am not Truth. But I am who God says I am— loved.  Loved enough to be affirmed of how dust and blank pages glorify God as my body, soul and spirit. I am perfected, but i

Photo by  Jackie Parker  on  Unsplash   “Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.” —  Maya Angelou I had an experience recently where I was being authentic and trusting, and came upon a boy who rejected me. The scenario went like this:  I was sitting on a chair, being myself (naturally quiet and soft), when he walked into the room. We didn't know each other.  I waved at him because I was happy to see him, and desired to warm him and express love to him. (This is natural for me.) I was hoping to build familiarity too, because what usually happens when you're warm and open toward people is that rapport is built with them as they feel safe. Knowing that and wanting him to feel safe, I waved at him bubblily and cheerfully.  Guess what he did?  With a prideful look on his face, eyebrows brought up in 'I don't have time for this, you're weird and I'm above you', he waved his comb at me dismissively and rejected me.  How did he make

Photo by  Jackie Parker  on  Unsplash “Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.” —  Maya Angelou God has the grace to heal us in our brokenness. I know you may not like this initially if you have a fear of dependency on others, but I love you too much not to share this post with you. All that I share here is based on my personal experiences with others and God.  Allow me to begin: A significant portion of your healing can only be experienced through openness to others. Your openness will allow healing that is otherwise unattainable. Thus, your level of openness is a determinant of how far you go in healing. During the process of healing, God sends those whom He knows have the grace to handle you, your flaws and all. (If they're not already in your life, rest assured that they'll be here soon.) If you need the faithful or the gracious, the loving and affectionate, the peaceful or . . . and the list goes on, God sends them to you, and your galaxie

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash Writing has always been natural for me.  It has not always been illuminating— (in fact, my works prior to salvation were predominantly dark)— but it has always been natural.  I cannot recall, from childhood, ever being deep in thoughtful consideration of choosing to journal.  I anticipated that words would travel on my train of thought to paper like relatives visiting home for an unknown and unnamed feast day.  Saving an empty hardcover notebook in September for the words to come from me was a given.  'Writing has always been natural for me' is a thought.  'Being honest with myself' is another.   Honesty with myself feels . . .  as though it requires a thousand-word poem, the words of which await my thought trains to visit paper, so lost in emotion that they miss each one.  It feels like dragging my pen across paper as though my weight in a snow shovel across tough snow.  It is the uneasy, full feeling you have when leaning forward to