YOUR VOICE WAS THERE

It was there
Buried in my heart
Like a ripened seed
Before breath’s first sweet taste
Entered my lungs
As I cried out with life

Already fully grown
My desire was for You
For Your touch
For Your Presence
Throughout my day
To be the beat of my heart

So why did I wander?
Why did Your
Familiar Voice
Fade …
No longer make my heart pound
With each breath I drew?

For Your voice was there
Buried in my heart
Before I ever knew
Anything else
Ever knew the call
Of other voices

A desire
That was hunger’s ache
Filled me then
And fills me now
Even as I wander
From field to field
In search of You

Each drawn breath
Renews the longing
Stirs up the echo
Of Your voice
Faded
But not gone
As I cry out for life

For that
Which I’ve walked
These many days
Is but life’s mirage
A flickering image
Of Your voice that beckons

Compassionate
Desire-filled
I hear it
Still
Calling from that ripened seed
Buried in my heart

And it leaves
All other voices
Empty
False
Mere imitations
Of the desire for which I long

Then again
You speak
With sweetest clarity
Or at least I hear
Where deafness before
Turned my ear from You

And running
At last
To Your open arms
I embrace anew
Desire’s voice
And know a home
Within Your gentle touch



© DeAnna L. Brooks
22 January 2005

FIRST FRUITS

(Exodus 22:29b)



He was first …
And though he was laid in my arms
In the wee dark hours
Of a June morn’ years past
He doesn’t belong to me…
He remains Yours
By a uniqueness
First-borns share
Within Your heart.

His days of ease
Number few among the days spent here
And as his daily journey
Travels lands
That break my heart
His heart-lands
Belong to You
Who alone understands
The road he must travel home

He remains Yours
Though my heart would hold him fast
Would ease his pain
Would smooth his way
But I remind myself
He is not mine
But rests within Your Father’s heart
Who surely knows
Every road he travels.

He was first …
First in my heart
First in my arms
First to know my voice
Amidst the multitude of wounding voices
That would come and dog his steps
And turn his heart
Toward lonely wilderness wanderings
Where Your Voice he will hear

So I will rest
For he was first …
And firsts belong to You




© DeAnna L. Brooks
30 January 2005

ONE DOORPOST MORE

(Exodus 21:6)


Today a doorpost calls my name
It’s beckoned me before
To cast my eyes upon it -
It stands an open door

A door wide open to Your love
Each stain was shed for me
But standing here before it now
Another doorway I do see

Your blood my soul did ransom
From death You set me free
And through that door I entered in
Your priceless gift to me

I stand before that doorpost now
And read within each stain
A message that I didn’t hear
When first it called my name

Written in each drop of blood
You freely shed for me
Stands a message to my heart
You’ve longed for me to see

I, too, need write a message
On this doorpost of love’s heart
A promise of commitment
From which I’ll never part

Standing here before it now
My head resting in Your hand
Place my ear upon its frame
For at last I understand

I’m called to share Your piercing
At the doorpost of love’s heart
And as our love’s blood mingles
From Your side I’ll ne’er depart

My love, it does the calling now
From my heart it calls Your name
So pierce my ear upon that post
For in Love’s service I’ll remain



© DeAnna L. Brooks
29 January 2005

FROM SAND TO SHINING SEA

The pillar of cloud, its awesome finger pointing silently heavenward, stopped suddenly. While the sun stood directly overhead, raining heated rays upon already over-heated bodies, the air lay thick, unbreathable. And as far as the eyes could see, only sand. Hot, dry sand.

It began, in the midst of their confusion. Murmuring’s dusty particles fell unhindered till waves of discontent, in ever-thickening billows, washed away belief ... in a tide of fear.

They stood, at the water’s edge. No bridge. No channel. Only brackish water, lapping at their toes.

Ears pricked at a distant rumbling, intensifying behind them. As a sea of chariots swarmed into view, fear pumped its own poison through hearts already weakened by growing despair.

The sun began to set amidst torrential cries storming the heavens.

Exactly when they noted the nighttime’s pillar of fire move behind them, barring passage to death’s reaper, depended on each heart. As fear gave way to trust, some began to look again towards heaven, faith-filled prayers of supplication replacing shrieks of dread.

They’d seen God’s hand move, time and again, on their behalf. In hail and locust driven famine, they’d feasted on the goodness of His provision. Through darkness, He’d been their light. Under death’s dripping sword, He’d been their bloodied covering.

And some, not knowing how or when, only knowing ... found the breath of their prayers into I AM’s courtyard now blowing back to them mighty winds of redemption. As the winds blew amidst surrounding blackness, God’s hand moved. And eyes, blinded by sight, began to see the parting of the waters.




Almighty One, I Am that I Am, You whose eye roamed throughout Egypt’s land until You found me, and drew me out. How oft, blinded by sight, I no longer see Your abiding presence. I hear, instead of Your voice, only the advancing thunder of chariot-seas. How quickly I forget God’s Lamb, arms outstretched, dripped His blood across the threshold of my own life, redeeming me from death. My toes, touching unexpected waters, draw back. Forgetting the mighty hand of redemption already come, I fear the sea ahead and the sea behind, and drink their fear. In the darkness of my night, give me eyes to see your fiery pillar behind, the parted sea ahead, and lead me to set foot on the dry land You’ve spread before me by Your own breath.....Amen!

COLOR ME DONKEY

I’m glad God redeems donkeys
Those stiff-necked burden carriers
Who readily and pride-fully
Usurp His place
Then plant feet firmly in the ground
And refuse to move

Picking up loads
That should be cast on Him
Donkeys seldom travel
With obedient ease
The road set before them
Where grace’s grass is sweet

No! stubborn rules their day
As it rues mine
'Cause somehow our paths
They stay intertwined
Maybe it’s because that donkey
Looks a lot like me

Stubborn, strong, stiff-necked
Though I may be
God's eyes pass through this outer skin
And looking deep within
Sees - me
A heart that needs redeemed

Hard as it may be
To see a donkey
By a lamb redeemed
This donkey knows the saving grace
Of that precious Lamb
Who took my place


(Exodus 13:13)



© DeAnna L. Brooks
25 January 2005

A Cavern's Secret

The caverns were cold, and damp. But more than that, they were dark, the feeble bulb above all that separated me from the utter blackness soon to descend. It flickered, then went out. And as my heart began to pound forth a fierce, audible rhythm from deep in my chest, I clung to all four of my children huddled, like a second skin, around me.

We’d descended the steps to this place, knowingly...or at least thinking we knew. Yet as I released my oldest son for the barest flicker of a moment, waving my hand desperately before my eyes, trying to catch the minutest glimmer of its presence, I realized that until that instant I hadn’t understood darkness, at all. Not this tangible darkness, this living entity now sucking away hope and calm, leaving only its residual fingerprint of fear and despair as seconds measured by eternities ticked by.

The voices around me helped...some. But in truth their own laughter quickly weakened as fear now began tasting its own life’s blood, and what began as fun quickly ran a gamut of emotions hard to describe, even now.

One thing only kept my pounding heart from exploding through my chest ... though I began to wonder if even in the knowing I could keep it contained. Our guide, somewhere ahead, had prepared, no warned, us. Immersed now in an ebony reality, a discovery fell upon me, full of its own message. Preparation for this daunting cloak I had no power in myself to remove had been impossible.

And the guide’s voice, meant, I’m sure to bring comfort, grew more and more detached by the pounding of my own heart.

Something beside me stirred, then. A soft stirring that in its own right should not generate heightened anxiety. But I knew it a stirring born not from my children’s presence, snuggled closer to me now than I thought humanly possible. The merest whisper of movement came, again, and my eyes were drawn, in desperate hunger, to a strange light emanating from sound no longer beyond my sight.

It glowed ... the watch’s face.

And my heartbeat ... began to settle to its more normal rhythm.

Soon a silent chuckle slowly replaced fear’s song which only moments before hinted a full orchestration never before in my repertoire.

I took a message away from those caverns. One I never anticipated at this day’s beginning.

Darkness’ power. Its living, breathing power. And the greater power which conquers it.


© DeAnna L. Brooks
24 January 2005

Grace's Sweet Desire

The desire of my heart is You
Though oft I wander from Your side
To lay myself in meadows fair
Where ne’er long can I reside

For Your Voice keeps beckoning me
With compassion’s sweet desire
To be the One to fill my cup
To be clothed in Your attire

Turning to my wardrobe
I find it isn’t bare
The many garments I have worn
Seen clearly hanging there

They seem so very beautiful
Til I gaze into Your eyes
Then shame becomes my covering
The garments revealed as lies

But compassion’s sweet desire
Looks fully in my face
You hand to me a garment new
Woven, strand by strand, with grace

A garment looking like Your own
Is laid gently about my form
And deep within my being
My heart’s desire is reborn

To know no other meadows
Or waters to fill my cup
But only at Your feet to sit
And with Your heart to sup

The longing of my heart is You
And clothed in Your attire
Walking firmly by Your side
Is now my sole desire



© DeAnna L. Brooks
22 January 2005

First Born

The opening words of Genesis 49 moved me strangely this morning. They seemed a culmination of so much....

As Israel described what the first-born was a promise of, how his heart must have ached. God’s hand lies in such a special way upon the first born. It is a window...a promise...of the father. Despite the passing of a lifetime, one can still capture the delight of this man, any man, who has placed in his arms for the very first time...a child. My firstborn....my strength...excellency of dignity...excellency of power.

You can see it even now in Israel’s face as the words flow from his mouth. And as they spill, a cloud, anguish-filled, begins to make its way across his countenance, and you feel his pain, as syllable-by-syllable the words Rueben...unstable as water, you shall not excel are pulled from his mouth.

How those words must have pained Israel. . . .and Rueben. Israel felt no satisfaction in speaking them, only grief ... the grief only a parent who has worn those shoes can understand.

So different from the hope-filled words spoken over Joseph’s sons: God, before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac walked, the God who has fed me all my life long to this day. The Angel who has redeemed me from all evil, bless the lands....” How precious to Israel...and Rueben....Israel’s declaration spoken earlier must have been at this moment. For in their hearts, they knew this same God redeemed each of them, as He redeems each of us, from all the evil that has been before and all that still lies ahead.

And as the sorrow, and hope, written here nearly choke me, I cannot help but envision another first born Son....who never tasted the evil of life, despite the onslaught of its arrows that must have been flung at Him moment-by-weary-moment throughout His thirty-three year sojourn among us. He remained the fulfillment of a Father’s promise! A true reflection of a Father’s might! A sure beginning of a Father’s strength! An excellency of dignity and excellency of power that still pours out on us today!

I hear a victory cry this morning, where an adversary would want to discover a whimpering, tear-filled soul. For Heaven’s First-Born remained faithful to a Father, undefiled, as stable as the rock which bears His Name....the Rock on which I can stand, without shadow of fear.

Blessed be His Name,
DeAnna

GAME TIME

“He who is not with Me is against me,
and he who gathers not with Me scatters abroad.”
Matthew12:30


Football season’s rapidly coming to a close with playoffs in full-form. Stadiums are full to capacity. And probably in most homes across the country, family members sit in front of large screens looking glued there as play after play unfolds before their eyes. And when the final score is tallied? They simply move on to the next game with the merest push of a small button.

And it doesn’t change when the season ends, only the sport venue alters....in a never-ceasing cycle with the world looking on while a mere handful of individuals play the game.

We’ve become a society living life, if it can be called life, on the side-lines. How did that happen? When did living change so dramatically? When did we become content with being shuffled aside, no longer being part of the whole? I’m not certain where the answer lies, but I can’t deny it’s the life I live day to day. And I’d bet it pretty well describes your life as well.

God didn’t created man in His own image to be a spectator, to sit contentedly on the side-line of life. Doing so has left the playing field to another team. A team whose goal remains diametrically opposed to the Father’s heart.

Have you ever noticed a unique quality in Jesus? He doesn’t pull punches. Saying it like it is may have rocked some boats, but He left you in little doubt about God’s plan for you. And it doesn’t include the sidelines. Could Jesus have put it any more plainly?

“He who is not with me is against me, and he who gathers not with Me scatters abroad...”

I don’t believe for one minute that Jesus meant rooting for His side cut it when it comes to being with Him. I believe it was a call to get in the game....to get out of those stands and onto the playing field where kingdom-life happens. To do less is to be a secret member of the opposition, undermining by our very passivity the play at hand.

A cursory look at today’s doors closing across the country to prayer on school property, posting of the ten commandments or nativity scenes in public forums, traditional Christmas songs in school Christmas programs, and required removal of biblical symbols from city emblems in city after city cannot help but alert us to the cost of side-line living. When even the words one nation under God can no longer stand unchallenged, it is difficult to remain blind to a vital shift in the game afoot.

Don’t mistake these words for a call to activism; they are merely an observation in our own times of the price dearly paid for scattering seed abroad when we failed to be gathering with Christ.

I feel my heart being called anew to these words of Jesus. To ask myself what “he who is not with Me is against Me...” looks like, specifically, in my own daily sojourn. When all is said and done, I don’t want to discover my life was lived scattering abroad.


© DeAnna L. Brooks
18 January 2005

AFFLICTION'S PROGENY

. . . and the second son he called Ephraim,
“For God had caused me to be fruitful in the land of my affliction.”
Gen. 41:52


For a woman, bearing a child is a process, full of blessing. Usually quite an exciting one, despite episodic nausea or quirky cravings. Anticipation fills each stage. Every nuance is precious, stored away in its own house of remembering, where it will be taken out endlessly over the years, reviewed in minutest detail, and cherished as blessing-born.

Despite all pregnancy, when you get right down to it, being uncharted lands of excitingly fresh discoveries, the condition defies secrecy. Life, though secreted away in safety’s womb, with the growing becomes evident. Finally the expected, eagerly anticipated child arrives, lays in your arms for the first time, filling that emptiness your heart has held secured just for its arrival.

Maybe that’s why Joseph’s words catch me up short. Fruitfulness in affliction? And I’m left pondering a new born awareness.

How have I failed to recognize the arrival of my own child? My Ephraim?

Paul reminds me in Romans 5 what Ephraim most likely looks like: perseverance, character, hope, love....and countless other children gracing my life. Each and every one a child God caused to be birthed in me in the land of my affliction.

Too often, at least in my life, “affliction” seems that land to be grudgingly endured . . . mumbling and grumbling-filled, on my part. Joseph, on the other hand, reminds me of something different.

Rather than being dismissed as a wasteland in which I hunger for the land of promise, I need to esteem affliction, in its varying guises, as a God-designed land of opportunity.

Lord, may I learn to recognize affliction’s land as a territory impregnated with Your heaven-produced harvest. May I embrace it with rejoicing, holding out my now empty arms, awaiting the Ephraim soon to fill them.



© DeAnna L. Brooks
17 January 2005

Heaven's Granaries

“Joseph gathered very much grain, as the sand of the sea,until he stopped counting, for it was immeasurable.” Genesis 41:49


Several times during the course of my life, I have felt a silent inner urging. And though I have not turned an utterly deaf ear to what I’ve heard, my answering that ‘call’ always seems to be put off until tomorrow. Not intentionally. But being wrapped up and absorbed in the urgencies of each day, that clearly heard whisper becomes softer and softer until it ceases being discernable altogether.

There is something about those types of tomorrows that never changes. They never come. Have you noticed that? They remain an elusive promise just beyond reach.

I long to be like Joseph. Gathering! Faithfully, without ceasing, without being diverted from the call he heard, Joseph gathered. I imagine him pursuing that gathering from sunrise to sunset, and often well after. His heart was set on it.

And just what was his heart so set on gathering? Blessings! Daily, faithfully, Joseph gathered the blessings sent by heaven, until the seeds of those blessings filled the granaries, all throughout Egypt, to overflowing.

At the beginning Joseph tried to keep a counting of them, but in the end the flow from heaven was simply beyond measure....but still, he kept gathering.

Our blessings may not fall in the form of grains of wheat, but they are as plentiful none the less. And that is the inner urging my heart has felt so many times throughout my life. Joseph faithfully recorded the blessings, and so should I.

Imagine if we began our day asking God for His eyesight. For the ability to see the blessings, sprouting like heads of grain from heaven, each day into our lives...and to faithfully record them. It would become impossible not to feel the depth of God’s intense love for us.

Our own granaries would soon be like Joseph’s . . . filled with very much gain, as the sands of the sea, impossible to measure. When times of ‘famine’ came into our life, our full granaries would nourish our soul, feeding our faith, holding close to our hearts the evidence of God’s undying faithfulness.

I want to be like Joseph, with a ear tuned to heaven, and hands ready and willing to gather the harvest.



© DeAnna L. Brooks
17 January 2005

Kingdom Salt

Salt covers a lot of ground, from preserving Salty Old Sea Dogs to flavoring the potage that Esau so readily sold his birthright for. Even Lot’s wife discovered more about salt than she ever dreamed she would.

Off and on ‘salt’ creeps into scripture and I must admit, it always seemed a tag-along to me, somehow. Maybe it is because salt is absent from my own diet, something we’ve avoided in my family. I don’t have an affinity for salt that others have. I must admit, now as my own children are grown, and I watch them liberally pour salt on their food, something in me cringes. Apart from popcorn, I could do without it.

Being a student of history much of my life, I realized the extreme value ancient peoples placed on this commodity. It was precious to them. If they were to preserve some types of food, it was essential. In many cultures it was so valuable it took on a monetary value.

I guess that is one reason I’ve found it fascinating each time I came upon Jesus’ words in referring to the children of God’s kingdom. He reminded His followers that they were like salt, and warned them that, once loosing savor, there was no way to become ‘salty’ again. I always thought Jesus was simply reminding us that as believers in Him, we added a flavor of godliness to the world that was absent if we weren’t a true reflection of God.

Then I stumbled upon something yesterday that has added an entirely new dimension of Jesus’ words and His warning. Salt Rock crystals have a purifying effect. When used in conjunction with mild heat they purify the air from contaminates...from germs....from allergens, those elements which inflict their sickness upon the body.

Fascinating! Suddenly there is so much more depth to what Jesus is saying to my own heart....to the body of Christ as a whole. As followers of God, children of His kingdom, we are meant to purify all we come in contact with. Our words, our actions, our thoughts should be having a cleansing affect on the lives around us. They should be able to safely breathe in God’s love through us. The world’s contaminates should fall off in our presence as the purifying breathe of God finds a channel through us to them. In God’s hands, am I the purifying influence on those around me that Jesus reminds me to be? Something to ponder......



© DeAnna L. Brooks
14 January 2005

The Savior's Plea

Oh, you of little faith
Why are you so afraid?
I’ve taken your infirmities
And laid them in the grave.

Your sins, they are forgiven
Like diseases borne away.
They’re buried in the deepest sea
Where they will always stay.

Upon life’s waters walk
Reach out and take My hand.
There’s simply no impediment
When with Me you do stand.

Only one thing’s left for you
To place your hand in Mine.
Just choose to lay your trust in Me –
Our hearts, they’ve intertwined.

Our soul’s, they’re interwoven,
You’ve heard me call your name
So come and draw upon My love
Within My love remain.

Oh, you of wavering faith
Come walk with Me and see
You’re daily borne upon My love
T’was always meant to be.

Birthed within my Father
That love it carries you
Straight from His heart it wings your way
His love will see you through.

My hand, it’s reaching now
To draw you to My side
Together let us walk this road
In Heaven’s love abide.


[ Matthew 8:26 & 9:2 ]

© DeAnna L. Brooks
11 January 2005

THE COVERING

The great marble hall stood silent, though filled to overflowing. Each, save the one whose attire shone more resplendent than the rest, coming in response to a personal invitation, affecting the entire realm. His bearing, alone, carried a hint of satisfaction absent in the others assembled here.

All eyes locked on the throne centered at the front of the chamber. But it was the Presence enveloping it drawing attention. Pain marred the glory of His face. The pain’s tangible heartbeat brought tears constricting their own throats.

Yet no such emotion filled the uninvited presence. Instead, the obvious sorrow of the King wrung from him a discordant note of delight, quite out of place in this somber gathering.

However, it was noted only by the One on whom all eyes were fastened, and by the Son, sitting quietly by His King’s side. Both pair of eyes unwaveringly sought out this unwelcome attendee’s jubilant expression, showing the merest flicker of recognition.

Then, turning towards the others, the King’s sorrow-filled eyes sought each one, lingering in shared pain, until finally they came to fully rest on his Son, sitting beside Him with a quiet knowing. For immeasurable moments they shared a look, holding an understanding others present couldn’t ascertain.

For the merest moment the smirk faltered on the features of the intruder, his heart skipping a beat, before confidence again replaced the confusion that had passed like a shadow across his countenance. He had them. And they knew it. And the gloating of his pride, now a living thing, could no longer be contained.

“You lose!”

His sneer shattering the stillness, all present gasped, the collective echo nearly drowning out the challenge the interloper flung disparagingly at the King.

Though at this moment a trespasser, he was no stranger to these courts. These hallowed chambers had been his domain, and he was known by all present. Appointed first closest friend and confidant, his own prideful discontent had birthed a rivalry in his heart that had only grown in his absence from these chambers. Until his latest actions now drew him back before the king.

The multitude parted before his arrogant stride till he stood, unrepentant, before the King.

“I said, ‘You lose!’”

With deliberation he turned his head, until his penetrating stare locked with the Son’s. But the Son’s fixed gaze never wavered, and the intruder, unaccountably, found his own gaze shifting, momentarily. Then a hardened look filling his eyes, he turned back to the King.

“They’re mine! All this…mine!”



Gesturing triumphantly to the heavens above and the earth below, his jeering words echoed in the great chamber’s unnatural stillness.

But as he spoke something shifted in the atmosphere of the hall. Subtle, but a shift he noted with growing confusion.

His confident postulating returned as, looking about the room, he noted all eyes cast down. And he began to laugh a celebratory laugh. But it did not grow in volume, its reverberation filling the chambers, as it should. Rather his jubilation was absorbed, swallowed up before it could be given full voice.

Swinging his gaze back towards the king, fully expecting to see dejection draped there upon the throne, his eyes met, instead, an indescribable stare, rooting him to the spot. His confidence wavering, this one-time friend looked around the hall.

Then it struck him. Their eyes weren’t cast down in despair; rather they were drawn down, in awe. Again, throwing a look back toward the King and His Son, he was riveted by a knowing he didn’t comprehend, yet clearly visible on both their faces.

Almost against his will, his own eyes were drawn downward. Unexpectedly, it was not a chamber floor that met his gaze. Instead, it was a garden he knew well filling his vision. A garden he’d roamed, had staked claim to as his own. And a man, and woman.

A chuckle, beginning when he saw them, quickly slipped away. When he had left their side, leafy-garments made a feeble attempt to cover their nakedness. But that shameful covering was gone. In their place new bloodied garments of skin . . .grace-woven garments.

Puzzlement began to replace the confident sneer he’d worn into heaven’s chambers just heartbeats before. A puzzlement quickly growing to agitation as the scene now shifted before his eyes.

The verdant garden gave way to a rock-strewn hill, sprouting a bloodied cross.

At the sight, laughter’s deep voice began building again in his chest when, suddenly, the scene altered one last time, to another hillside. And a tomb, now empty, the death stone forever rolled away.

A sound continued to gather deep inside him. Lifting his eyes a final time to the throne, they fell upon hands. Hands outstretched. Nail-pierced and bloodied.

Sounds gathering in his chest at last tore free, a feral roar filling heaven’s court . . . echoing through the ages.


© DeAnna L. Brooks
10 January 2005

My Soul's Isaac

To lay my own soul’s Isaac down
Should be a simple thing.
I look at men like Abraham
Where faith was born on wings.
Born up before the throne of God
Where grief has shed love’s tears
Where rest was found within Your love
And cast away all fears.
But still my Isaac lingers here
Within my heart’s embrace
If I could only lay him down
Then look into Your face
I know I’d find love shimmering there
Within Your own Love’s tears
A love borne on a cross You shared
That’s stretched throughout the years.
So by Your grace this step I’ll take
No matter what it brings.
But in my heart I know I’ll find
My soul borne on Heaven’s wings.


[ Genesis 22 ]

© DeAnna L. Brooks
9 January 2005

Sight-Walk

Sodom tells a story
That’s secreted in each heart
A tale of seeds laid buried
Right from life’s very start

Seeds planted, oh, so subtly
By the prince from Darkness’ realm
Lay hidden in clay chambers
Where sight faith would overwhelm

Sight reaches for a garden
That’s shadowed in this land
And when we reach to grasp it
It falls like grains of sand

But the Prince of Darkness is clever
His fruit wears a bright disguise
That covers up its darkness
Save to the very wise

The wise who’ve learned by faith to walk
While they sojourn here on earth
Whose eyes gaze ever heavenward
Embracing fully their new birth

They’ve heard the Savior beckon
Turned their ear to Grace’s call
Rejecting seeds of sight-walk
Planted deep in Eden’s fall

To clearer see the story
Turn your eyes to Lot’s sad tale
For all throughout its pages
We see sight will always fail

Drawn to Sodom’s gardens
To the ease within its walls
Lot led his precious family
Listening to its pleasing call

He thought he could reside there
Staying separate from its filth
But soon they enjoyed its comfort
Were enchanted by its wealth

Though righteous Lot rejected
The moral darkness of that land
His heart-soil bore its hidden seeds
Till no longer could he stand

His heart was torn and shattered
By all that he did see
While residing in that darkened land
Where he was never meant to be

But when judgment on that land did come
And the angels came to tell
They had to take him by the hand
Before the fire finally fell

Lot’s wife in heart could not depart
The realm that long had been her home
And Lot and his two daughters
To a mountain cave would finally roam

The evil deeds done in that place
Were birthed in Sodom’s sod
For in the heart-soil of his girls
There was no room for God

A happy ending to this story
Will not on earth be found
Where sight-walk seeds are planted
And find a fertile ground

We’re called to walk by faith each day
As we journey here below
To reject the sight-walk seeds
That Sodom would try to sow

Abraham learned the answer
As each day he sojourned here
To keep his eyes turned heavenward
To God’s heart to tune his ear

There’s a lesson in this tale
Of righteousness to learn
To walk by faith throughout each day
And sight-walk firmly spurn

[reflection on Genesis 19]

© January 8, 2005
DeAnna L. Brooks

Favor Found

If I’ve found favor in Your eyes
Do not pass Your servant by…

From the mouth of Abraham spoke
And in my heart a longing woke.

A longing of my Lord to see
And in His eyes to pleasing be.

To look upon His loving face
And know myself now clothed in Grace.

If I’ve found favor in Your eyes
Do not pass Your servant by…

In Abraham lay a servant’s heart
He would not let the Lord depart

Until upon Him he had shared
Sweet gifts of love his hands prepared.

Waters clear to wash His feet
Then food and drink, an offering sweet.

If I’ve found favor in Your eyes
Do not pass Your servant by…

Dear Lord, I come to You today
Before Your feet my life to lay

To offer You this pair of hands
Through which Your love can work its plans

Create in me that servant heart
Mold from this clay Grace’s work of art.

If I’ve found favor in Your eyes
Do not pass Your servant by…


[ reflection on Genesis 18:3 ]


© 6 January 2005
DeAnna L. Brooks

Desert Longing

Wounded and oppressed, she ran, unseen.

Throughout night’s dark shadows Hagar pushed onward, staggering through desert places where dry, dusty footsteps marked her lone passage.

Did moonlight beams caste heavenly light upon the sands stretched before her as she traveled to...nowhere? Did she recognize the heart from which they flowed?

Was courage for her soul found in the solitude, or did night’s heightened voices echo throughout her being the fear that had driven her away in the beginning?

Her heart sought sanctuary. A silent cry driving her onward, searching. Her soul longed for home where love wove a garment for her heart that would never tear or become threadbare.

She’d fled the place of tattered, frayed love. But barrenness was all that met her in this desertscape extending endlessly before her.

And she thirsted. How she thirsted.

Stumbling to a desert spring, she drank deeply. Then crumpled in despair when their waters left her thirst bitterly unquenched.

All the while, throughout her wanderings, carried in each shed tear, love watched and waited. Then, when she was ready to hear, love spoke her name. With threads of love the garment wove knowingly about her, embracing her heart forever.

* * * *

We cannot help but recognize Hagar’s heart. It beats in unison with our own. Voicing the same cries. Shedding the same tears. Harboring the same longings. And as Hagar’s seeking heart drove her into desert places, so does ours. Searching for waters that will quench our own bitter thirst.

All the while the Living Water calls our name. Clearly. And less we miss that it is our name He calls, He tells us who we are. And he asks the same question of our heart that He asked Hagar.

Where are you going?

And when we tell Him we are fleeing? El Roi, the One Who Lives and Sees Me, calls us to return to His heart. To that place of blessing that never runs dry. And that garment of Himself that He has woven, thread by love-twined thread, wraps gently around us, assuring our hearts we truly are home!


[Reflections on Genesis 16:7-14]


© DeAnna L. Brooks
6 January 2005

Sodom-ized

Looking for ease! Looking for security! Looking for an earthbound place of rest and peace! Isn’t that our heart’s cry?

Desiring truth in the inward parts, yet casting aside sojourning, Lot chose to plant his roots in this world. When he turned to Sodom, he turned toward a Dark Prince who had caste his pall across the earth from the beginning of creation. A prince of power and artifice whose deception built a kingdom rooted in sight. A kingdom that appeared to offer the well-watered garden reminiscent of the Eden we all long for. And believing he had found it, this righteous man followed his sight until he had staked out his own territory within the fortified walls of a dark realm.

Without the lens of faith, how easy it is to perceive the Shadowlands we sojourn through as the truth our heart seeks. Lot did not understand that the city he was to be seeking was not of this world. A city awaited him with foundations anchored in the heavenly kingdom. A city not made with human hands, but one whose builder and maker is God Himself. A city claiming a cornerstone that rests unshakably and firmly in Jesus and the abundant life that is ours in Him.

As long as we sojourn in the Shadowlands, in which our temporal flesh must reside, the apparel marking us as residents of the eternal kingdom must be put on internally. It is there that the clothing of righteousness becomes ours. These are garments woven in spirit and in truth with golden spirit threads weaving the beautiful design of God’s heart throughout our lives.

Jesus gives us a glimpse of that apparel as He shares what kingdom clothing truly looks like. Speaking to the multitudes on a mountain side, He bares God’s heart. How different the Beatitude apparel is from Sodom attire.

But, like Lot, Sodom often unwittingly becomes our place of residence and its clothing our own. It glitters and sparkles. It calls our name offering itself in so many guises to our searching hearts, wooing our deepest longings. We fail to recognize it for the kingdom of darkness it is. And we never dream that its shadowy garb has become our own, disguising the apparel of light God would clothe us in.

Paul speaks of this boldly in Ephesians 2 . . . you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience, among whom also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, just as the others.

And this leaves us like Lot. World-wearied! Spiritually impotent! Peter paints a vivid picture of Lot so often mirroring our own woundedness . . . oppressed by the filthy conduct of the wicked (for that righteous man, dwelling among them, tormented his righteous soul from day to day by seeing and hearing their lawless deeds) . . . (2 Peter 2:7-8 NKJV)

Yet, Grace, taking on human form, would not leave us here in Sodom’s Shadowlands any more than He would leave righteous Lot in the fortified city of darkness. Physically and spiritually Lot was taken by the hand and walked through those darkened streets, escaping, through the power and gift of God, the wrath that falls on all unrighteousness. Paul records Lot’s path to redemption, a journey we, too, share.

But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been save), and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus . . . (Eph. 2:4-6 NKJV)

Sodom will ever remain a city of sight calling those who walk by sight! But we need not be Sodom-ized! We are called to a different walk, a walk by faith that enables us to look forward to that heavenly city of promise. A city of eternal blessing, made not with human hands, but by God’s own loving hands. A city where the Prince of Darkness holds no power and Eden truly is reborn. Where the garments of righteousness that we wear will shine like the noonday sun bathing us forever in the love of God.


© 5 January 2005
DeAnna Brooks

Vanquished

Chashak had known only Light. He was Light’s creation and resided only in His presence. Each street he walked remained a stranger to Light’s absence. Yet while wearing light’s splendor as his raiment, pridefully he planted new seeds within his own being. There they found nurturing soil. And as their fruit grew, twisting, turning within, he exchanged the name gifted him at his creation. Casting Haylel, Morning Star, aside, as he caste aside his Creator, he gave birth to a new identity. Darkness was born!

And Darkness strove with Light. Attempted to overthrow it. Created to leadership, the newborn Chashak used his skills until a third of the heavenlies shared his name, and his destiny.

The separation of light and darkness knew its beginning then, there in the celestial courts.

But Chashak could not dim, could not hide the Light there in the court of his Creator. The King’s reign and realm stood secure. Neither could Darkness stand in Almighty’s presence and be seen as anything other the twisted being he had become. So he fled the kingdom light that had been his breath, taking darkness with him.

Yet everywhere Chashak lurked Light had gone before, leaving His imprint.

Then he remembered a work he had nearly forgotten. A creation newer than any others. A creation yet without form. Empty. And thinking to sneak there with his minions, Chashak determined to hide Light from this creation’s upturned face. So he cast his pall of darkness about its depths, deceiving only himself.

For there hovered over this new realm the Spirit of Light’s very essence, guarding, protecting all that would be from this pretender and his dark flock.

Chashak’s pretense didn’t last long, caste asunder by four small words borne on the Almighty’s breath.

Let there be light!

With their utterance, Darkness knew an eternal separation. A separation from his pretense. A separation from Light. A separation from Light’s creation.

With a single word, night, the Almighty One laid Chashak’s twisted nature bare in His new naming. Forever delineated from Light’s truth, Night was shown clearly the pretender he had chosen to become.

As further proof of His dominion the Almighty showered His own essence even within this darkened realm. From the heavenlies manifest reflections of Light’s truth would shine forth, bringing light wherever Darkness would try to touch. A light to guide. A light pointing all hearts to Himself.

Light reigning eternal, ever having dominion over darkness.

(Genesis 1: 1-2)

© DeAnna L. Brooks
1 January 2005