Draped with Chains: The Important Thing I Allowed Myself to Lose

There was a time in my life when I would battle within fortified castle walls, luxuriously abide in a mansion, and plot devious operations within the confines of my personal headquarters: my treehouse. Sometimes my treehouse served as a cabin where I would vacate from childhood woes and home life; as if either were not, in reality, quite nearby. I would retreat to the five-foot by five-foot loft on cool nights and sprawl my body across the gaping floorboards. If it were raining, I would peer out the somberly small square window, relaxing as I observed the rainfall.  My treehouse was what Lemony Snicket might call a “sanctuary.”

Formed out of semi-solid planks and glazed with chipping paint, my treehouse walls sheltered me with adamancy, sobriety, and the caring craftsmanship of my father. It was magic fortified with wonder.

These days, my dilapidating treehouse door refuses to allow my entrance; Life, who instructed me to grow up, locked the magic inside. The entrance is barred shut by others’ expectations of success and approval. Misplaced priorities and responsibilities concerning education, finances, and careers shut the window I once peered through. The world forged drapes of chains out of a cast-iron obsession with greed, power, and sexual inclinations. Common notions of how man ought to live, with and without faith, crucified the magic which hemmed me in.

No more will I allow the harrowed magic to remain as such. Jesus called us to be as one of the little ones, a child. Confidently, I pray that His grace and Spirit, dwelling with and within me, transform me into an all-seeing-child.

The life of a child is simple and undefined, allowing the father to guide and nurture it. The splendor of creation is my new treehouse, sheltering me with adamancy, sobriety, and the caring craftsmanship of my Father above. Its doors are open, unbound and abounding with magic and wonder within. Christ broke the bars of expectations. God’s grace swung open the window, and His unbearable peace shines through, illuminating the loft with his grand working and schema. The cast-iron drapes we forged are unlinked, scattered, and falling through the floorboards gaping with His Spirit’s breadth. God’s notion of how man ought to live is resurrected with the Son, restoring us to childlike magic. I am a child once more.

“…people die in monotony every day. Pain and euphoria remind us that we are alive. If the magic ceases to exist, then life is pointless.” – Autumn Jade Monroe

Heaven’s Heart: Revisting Siloam

Nearer the Beginning of November, I posted on this blog for the first time and am now returning for a moment to develop a thought:

“This man washed his eyes, blind, and dried off seeing. Likewise, starlight washes my eyes and illuminates Earth’s beauty. Comparatively, creation’s veil lifts, and her eyes mirror mine. No few nights have I gazed at the heavens and admired her worth, intrinsic and imprinted by her Creator.”

Comparatively, creations veil lifts, and her eyes mirror mine, reflecting an intimate, personal individual whose identity is understood in unison with his Creator’s flawless identity. Opening my spiritual eyes closes the eyes of my flesh, and the believers’ spirits surrounding me illuminate, appearing as a silhouettes whose shadows are cast as flesh. The soul incarnates the body which relies on its possessor to act, as a shadow does its silhouette.

Creation echoes the Creator’s voice; those disposed with spirit mirror his image. When he, created in the image of God, recognizes of the image of God, he simultaneously becomes enlightened of himself – and God.

The spirit reflects God’s image uniquely; and mankind, like a broken mirror, represents vibrantly the Creator’s image upon restoration.

Thence I say, no few nights have I gazed at the heavens and admired her worth, intrinsic and imprinted by her Creator.