Just a rebel with a cause, no more yours than mine than mine than yours... no gift of love no broken clause.
Just a wandering rebel with a Mighty big cause.
As I reflect on today's topics at hand, I rejoice in knowing...
He died for me. He, the one true King layed down, and died for me.
For me to be free... for me to be a gypsy disciple spreading the good news!
He died so that I could sip wine and sing a song with these keys... not melody, but the pitter patter, of these clicking keys.
He shed blood, so that I may impose, this chosen array colors, onto this blank canvas. And roar with elegance, I am here. Let me be free.
He came and He went, with no more regard, than a thief in the night; as if He had snuck in like Santa to bring, light. Light, like the shining faces of children. Joy.
He died so that we could be wild and free... like the flowers in pastures and the hurricane and tree...
He died so that we may rampage from within, all of the passion divinely given from Him...
He died so that we could be we.... but did He die so that we could be free?...
Do not eat that fruit my child.... or do as you please? For you my lovely, your freedom, I will never sieze.
Bending and breaking, fighting our selves.... what did He mix to prepare the perfect me? And what did I add, just being greedy??? Hunger.
Are my taste buds still lusting over His recipe? ..?or am I poking and prodding to be the me-est of me...
Jesus was a rebel, a REBEL for sure, but the cloth He was cut from was the purest of pure... clean.
Is the clamor He died for, still the clamor I defend... or is the clamor I fight for just wrapped up in sin... Bondage.
FREEDOM is not free... the greatest oxymoron of life freedom, will always be. Christ.
You wanted to be, as you Eve, thought you should be... you thought you'd just taste that fruit from that tree... you thought you'd do you and be all you could be. When really He had told you... I'm all you, can BE... C!
Blinded... by your own way, the sun setting over the horizon, your vision covered His say. Truth.
There is no wandering, or finding yourself, for yourself is the self that put God on the shelf... Independence.
Since when did your gift, have to become your bondage to sin; that everything your about, is everything your fighting within.
Outward expression has enslaved our souls, that me must'nt, we must'nt be controled! Fear....
