Crushing Waves

I feel like I’m never more acutely aware of the phenomenon until I feel a friend has left the ranks, that I'm abandoned, sold out; then I find myself slipping, letting go of what I know is right — and it frightens me. I know who I want to serve, I know what is right and what is wrong, but I can’t help feeling my feet slipping as the waves crash again, again, again across my feet: though they’re planted on the Rock, as my comrades leave my back and let go of my shoulders, I slip on the slippery foam coating the solid truth upon which I stand. I grow weary, cold as the winds whip about my salty, weathered body, the mist of surrounding waves dripping off my nose like so many tears. Down the shore I see another standing — resolutely — yet so many more fallen. But I hold bitterly firm, press on to stand on my Rock. But the greatest challenge of all remains that I not grow bitter or let my mind drift to the suffering, for in that fleeting thought I defeat myself — slipping silently into oblivion, just another drowning soul in the flooding onslaught.  

What am I missing from my perspective, brow speckled in salted frost?

Just steps behind me, I’m breaking waves for a fallen fellow, another sentinel who slid in face of a terrible crash; not moments before, they broke the waves for me, and as I stand now, I stand with renewed strength, impassioned to guard my former guardian. Where once I struggled to gain back the slick, warm slab after losing my footing, behind the shelter of my brothers’ and sisters’ frames, now I stand at the front line to offer them a chance to again join the line!

Weariness overtakes us all at some time or another. There is no shame in losing our stance; shame grows from whether we take heart in our broken failure and climb, and in our unbreakable Spirit as we help our brothers and sisters out of the raging surf, back to the solid Rock on which we stand.

Take heart, for you are never alone.

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In a shifting world perverted by deception, perception skewed by Satan, our soul foundation is on in our Heavenly Father.

therefore thus says the Lord God, “Behold, I am the one who is laying as a foundation in Zion, a stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, of a sure foundation: ‘Whoever believes will not be in haste.’"

On Christ the Solid Rock I stand, and all other ground is sinking sand — in certainty of His sovereignty, I choose to stand.

Elohay Mishpat

“Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.””

Christianity is symbolized by a cross, oftentimes a soft, simple, silver placement affixed to a bright necklace; flowers and bright colors occasionally adorn dainty renditions for decorations in girls' rooms, and in lockers and class binders

And irony saturates how quickly that crucifix darkens under the shadow of history.

Crucifixion first appeared as an idea within the creative, malicious minds of the 6th century Before Christ; it offered a method of punishment that was cruel, painful, embarrassing and slow. It fulfilled the death warrants of many heinous criminals and a number of failed invaders.

The crucifix was an infamous sign of the power and might for the Roman empire, a sign of ruthlessness beyond comprehension of the absorbed nations of the empire. But why?

Because it represented justice so resolute as to support peace throughout the sprawling superpower, a span from the Atlantic coast of Spain and Portugal all the way to the Caspian Sea, as far north as the border with Scotland and south to Egypt. Through centuries of power, Roman rule held fast hold of its subjects with incomparable levels of ruthless justice — but also with grace.

In an act of mercy, Pontius Pilate offered the freedom of one of the criminals queued for crucifixion roughly 2,000 years ago, as was the annual custom of the state to appease the people; through His wisdom and beautifully poetic will, God allowed the Hebrews to save the life of a murderer in trade for the life of His perfect, sacrificial son.

Those most heartless in this world, even the most dark souls, have the greatest chance at forgiveness and redemption: even in a moment so crucial to the salvation of all of humanity, amidst such enormity God saved the life of one Barnabas and offered him a second chance for life and for life after death. Through a gruesome death worthy of the worst criminals, the Son of Man forfeited his life to pay the ultimate sacrifice, the most pure and lasting sacrifice for people placed at the precise moment for the Passover offering.

A cross is by no means a clean or happy picture worn about the neck lightly; a crucifix is representative of the caring love, chiding chastisement, swift justice and perfection of the King of kings, a gruesome, gory, utterly joyful picture of salvation and second chances.

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Justice held the Roman empire tightly together under a common rule, though mercy and grace showed the empire's greatest strength. Isaiah 30:18 shows that:

“Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion. For the LORD is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!”

— Isaiah 30:18

Daily life provides the opportunity and necessity for God's grace and mercy; only with complete humility may we view and love those around us, care for those we don't know, die for those we've never seen. Through God's guiding will and empowering, fulfilling love we may share.

Elohim Kedoshim

What Do I Know of Holy by Addison Road

I made You promises a thousand times I tried to hear from Heaven But I talked the whole time I think I made You too small I never feared You at all No If You touched my face would I know You? Looked into my eyes could I behold You?

What do I know of You Who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood But the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

I guess I thought that I had figured You out I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about How You were mighty to save Those were only empty words on a page Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees

What do I know of You Who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood But the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy? What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame? And a God who gave life "its" name? What do I know of Holy? Of the One who the angels praise? All creation knows Your name On earth and heaven above What do I know of this love?

What do I know of You Who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood But the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy? What do I know of Holy?

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In Leviticus 19:2, we hear of Holy God, pure and untouchable creator of the universe—incapable of being soiled by our sinful ways. Leviticus required priests to go through ceremonial cleansing before entering the tabernacle to be ready before the stringent purity of the LORD.

“Speak to the entire assembly of Israel and say to them: ‘Be holy because I, the LORD your God, am holy.’”

— Leviticus 19:2

Again in Joshua 24:19 the name God appears, referring to the flaws and failure of the Israelites in their infidelity to their God.

“Joshua said to the people, ‘You are not able to serve the LORD. He is a holy God; he is a jealous God. He will not forgive your rebellion and your sins.’”

— Joshua 24:19

Before God, the chaff and dross burn away, our iniquities made plain; before purity and perfection, we cannot stand the sight or existence of God or His beauty, or comprehend is glory.

Before God, we may kneel and pray. Before God we may laugh, cry, smile, sing and dance, or choose to remain silent.

Before the creator and perfecter of the universe—we are children in the lap of our loving Father.

Elohim Chaiyim

Bright strings and warm winds awaken the hall, tuning the symphony to life, the crass of the brass ringing as it reaches the audience. With every huff of breath, stroke of the hand and take of the bow, the muse shows its face. In music, a variety of instruments play, many notes draw forth from many sources, and in the most intricate and sophisticated of music, notes are even implied beneath the audible level. Through music: creation.

Today as I was driving back to Texas A&M University, I enjoyed the time to mull over the complexity of such creations, and I came to a simple yet profound conclusion: music is alive. Breathing, flowing, music evolves from its creators, the players.

As man, we are made in the image of God, the creator—made to create. That is our muse, that is our privilege and rite on this earth, to steward God's creations and creatures well and to worship Him in our actions.

And we worship in music and trade by creating.

We are creatures of ingenuity and passion, of thought and soul in the same package; our human condition allows us the special ability to create and imagine like no other creäture on this earth. As man, we may create like none-other for one reason only: we are created like none other.

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In Jeremiah 10:10, we hear of the Living God, a god who continues and currently lives and interacts with our world; a living god is infinitely more complex and beautiful than any of the shadows so often called gods by others: there is only the one true, living God of Abraham.

“But the LORD is the true God; he is the living God, the eternal King. When he is angry, the earth trembles; the nations cannot endure his wrath.”

— Jeremiah 10:10

El HaNe'eman

Every day when I opened the front door of my home—my dog loved me. With the slamming of a car door and the clap of a latch, she knew who had come home. Lucy rushed to greet us from her soft, supple cove on the couch; she would prance and dance about my feet, jumping and wagging furiously to express her happiness; her voice would wine pitifully and heartily for one reason: her boy was home.

Sometimes I held groceries in my arms, true, and on such occasions she tended to spend less time jumping for my arms and more time jumping for the bags in my arms (to help carry them for me, no doubt). But most of the time, almost every time that I entered her Highness's kingdom, I held nothing but my book-laden backpack. And my viola. And my swim bag.

Whenever I came in bundled and bound by my many bags, she would wait for me; she didn't lose interest in me, didn't scamper for her cozy bed on the couch out of impatience. As long as I was able to know her, she was utterly faithful to me.

Fondly, I recall sprawling on the floor next to her still, quiet form while I attacked my homework late at night; she was the only one who would stay up with me while I worked after my parents and brother all disappeared to their rest. And as we lay there, she would scoot herself frame against my side and sigh contentedly, her snout nosing up to my hand as a subtle reminder that she awaited my scratching fingers behind her ears—but she never pushed for it, rather waiting patiently for me to rub her head affectionately when I had finished with the most stressful load.

Watching my every move, she would follow me as I distributed laundry around the house to all the closets and drawers. The sweetest part was how she would follow me no matter how comfortable she had just made herself in mom's bed (right in the middle of the just-clean bed sheets), in the closet under the low-hung clothes, or on the rug in the entryway.

And now she's gone.

We don't hear her tinkling, jingling collar as she sneaks and sniffs about the house for any loose food anymore. As I walk into the house, I hear only the silence left. As I walk in, I smell the clean smell of a fresh, sterile house.

Every day when I open the front door of my home—I love my dog.

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The creator (Elohim) of the universe loves me like a dog—or more accurately, I think now with reverence back on Lucy and how she loved me like God.

Deuteronomy 7:9 describes God as El HaNe'eman: The Faithful God.

“Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.”

— Deuteronomy 7:9

Semper fidelis: "ever faithful". Marines mirror the mantra of God, humans made in His image living in one of the most complex forms of preservation known to the human psyche, sacrificing the team for the person in a code that never leaves a man behind, never gives up.

God always chases after us in our lives. He is felt when I lay crushed beneath despair, and felt in the wonderful celebrations after overcoming adversity. Whenever time grow tough, He doesn't leave me alone, but stands by my side as a silent strength. He doesn't fight my battles for me—He makes me better by giving me the strength to fight for myself.

Always there, during the good and the bad, God is faithful.

I'm not—But I'm trying.