The Man at the Bus Stop

You drive by, for three seconds you see the man at the bus stop. An old brown coat and a tired look is all you know of him. Yet the light is green and your car is pulled into the stream of a task-filled day, to a destination that brings him out of sight and out of mind.

Behind you and without your thoughts he waits for the bus to carry him along to his routine venture. Behind his weary eyes are fading childhood dreams, before his feet the cold pavement of realism.

The bus ushers in the smell of exhaust and the shadows of the city. Under the windows, the polished masks of news-reporters and movie stars stare blankly into forgotten space. The bus is always looking forward, a cold joint opens the door with a hiss.

The old bench that has seen a thousand faces is fastened to the ground at the intersection of souls. Wheels upon wheels flood by through the dry cracks of urban marrow. Faces forward fixed on the ends of strings that pull them through tense-muscle traffic to the refuge of busyness.

The old bench with wooden panels forged in rows by rain and wind. Rotted cracks made smooth by time, suspended between iron legs. Two pieces mirrored with an arm-rest, one foot forward, one foot back each. Bolted into the pavement where lonely glades strain blindly through into an unknown world.

Neither iron nor steel can bear the weight. Between the bus and the bench sits a king, even a god. A heart pumping red life into a being that can breathe in the skies, warming hands that can touch the moon and sift its dust. Eyes that can see what is behind the autumn sun and ears that can know the song of ages.

Between the bus in the bench is an ordinary man, sitting beneath the skies and stars of a thousand ages that will burn away. The bus will sigh in a metal heap melted for further failures. The bench will break, the sleepless cities scream for rest, as these wrinkled faces will touch the end of the cosmos as all comes to dust and flame, before the dreadful Name.

The World Before Easter

God was willing to annihilate those who rejected His perfect goodness in creation

but God spared our father Adam, and let him live to see another day, promising victory for his seed.

The life that He allowed our fathers to keep they used for wicked things, and God threatened to destroy the whole earth with a flood...

but God spared our father Noah and his offspring from this devastation, binding Himself in a covenant to never release the deserved deluge again.

The survivors soon sought to make a name for themselves united against God at Babel.

but He frustrated their self-destructive devices and spared them from ruin.

Our fathers forgot about God and made up their own ideas and gods to replace Him, leading to a degraded and immoral lifestyle.

but God stooped Himself low for our father Abraham and brought him near, promising to give him and his offspring a good inheritance no matter what.

The people became discouraged under the oppression of Egypt, and lost sight of God and His promises in all their work.

but God brought them out with a mighty hand wreaking fiery hail and darkness upon their captors, and yoked His Name with them forever, giving them His law. He made them His people, a treasured posession to God.

The children of Abraham grew into a mighty nation redeemed by God, but they did more than enough to warrant their utter doom at the hands of the God whom they spurned through the rejection of His good law and all that He was for them in it...

but God spared a remnant, and kept them alive through famine and captivity, vowing a day when they will reign over the world and have peace without fear in the presence of God forever.

And this remnant lost the law to wicked shepherds as the whole world suffocated them under under Roman rule, persisting in its wickedness toward the dusk of destruction...

but God sent His Son to show them the way and heal their afflictions, uprooting the proud with only His tongue and bestowing mercy to the sick in the forgiveness of sins.

Yet the world and God's people, our fathers, our blood, condemned His beautiful Son to the worst of deaths, and killed the Author of Life who showed all mercy to this point...

but God took our wrong and laid it on His Son, canceling our debt forever, making us His eternally beloved children, bringing us into the full and holy intimacy our souls were made for.

The Non-Update Update

Well, it's been almonst 3/4 a year now and I haven't written anything. Some of you can tell I enjoy web-design and graphics more than writing.

That is not entirely true. I just happen to be very unsatisfied with anything I write before it is half finished, and I am so busy with other things, that I never actually get to it.

But I am writing something that will be posted this month for sure. I have commited to it!

A Drop In the Ocean

I am one mind, in a sea of thoughts and influences.

I have a small voice in the noisiest age the world has known.

Do I remain silent about things I know so little about? (though what is a little?) Or do I speak, lest I hide some treasure that has been given to me that must be shared with others; a treasure hidden in a field perhaps.

...

I have decided to speak in these words, this blog. From one human being to the next, I pray my words and my thoughts would be real and genuine. I desire to be a drop of honesty, a fighter for truth, amidst all the things said and not meant.

So I hope you enjoy my words. They have blessed some I know, so I cannot hold my tongue when I am afraid or unsure. Time is too short, people are too important.

Please post your feedback, I would love to hear from you! As long as you mean what you say!