Because Souls Are Like Gardens
'Because Souls Are Like Gardens' is a collection of fictional and non-fictional musings—anywhere from life's quirky moments and general happenings, to thoughts and experiences around Jesus, the Kingdom, and truth. Much like a garden, what is planted here today, will be different to what is planted here tomorrow. Happy Pickin's!
When friends repeatedly suggested I write about this and share it publicly, I physically nodded ‘yes’, but inwardly recoiled—“no”. And that’s how it stayed for over two months, until this morning…
Neely rolled to her other side, still curled in a ball. Hugging her pillow and semi-unconscious, some part of her mind became aware of other people in the room. But how could there be? It was the middle of the night. Maybe she was just imagining it. And yet, there was light pressing through her eyelids. How was that possible?
There’s an abundance of Kingdom reality in this one word alone, just waiting to move from the unseen into the seen…
We are IN Him and He is IN us. He is closer to us than our next breath. He is our dwelling place. Our hiding place. Psalm 90:1 says, “Lord, YOU HAVE BEEN OUR DWELLING PLACE — throughout all generations.”
The preaching of ‘revival’ seems to make a special reappearance in every generation, but what about ‘permanent inhabitation’?
What if the ‘you’ who lives deep beneath your appearance wasn’t actually hidden away by your flesh way back in the Garden of Eden? Was your flesh even noticed in the Garden of Eden to begin with? Or was something greater—more real and far more eternal— noticed by others first?
It’s kinda a fun study to take a few minutes to watch a non-believing church service. (For example, an atheistic church service: They can be found on YouTube.) It’s interesting to watch it with eyes wide open to what looks like ‘rightness’ and same-same patterns of church, yet it is (simultaneously) sad that the absence of the person of Yeshua can be felt…
I love how creativity has a tendency to bypass mindsets whilst it simultaneously opens hearts. I can remember stopping in front of an abstract painting one day (years ago) and weeping from…
The sound of gongs fills the space. Empty clanging, metallic noise. It is the sound of head-dwelling and heart avoidance; a mechanical absence of love…
The interactions were shallow. Information-based. Void of heart. Third or fourth-hand experiences but never inspired from within…
