The White Squall

I haven't written; I've had writer's block.
I haven't expressed myself; I've had an emotional wall.
I haven't spoken; I've been mute.
I haven't read; I've had my mind closed.

Minor cuts and scrapes. Penny sized bruises. Minute infractions. Diminutive at a glance; there's no need to share the affliction. The big things seemed so monstrous; the little things seemed so effortless.

With a white squall amidst, a massive wave crashes upon my squandered time. The realization set in… the swell which has enveloped my days was an accumulation of little things. It wasn't the big things after all.

I carry the affliction. I bare it on my shoulders. I see its weight in my eyes. I hear the imperfections in my voice. I feel the millstones in my heart.

So how to rid myself of this well developed burden? A burden whose heaviness is more savage than an innocent prey succumbing to a lion's vicious maul?

As I stammer across the fields of time, I bring every weight with me; slowly reaching a sordid pit. I take one burden at a time, gradually peeling each layer of sin off my surface and placing it at the foot of the cross.

For I know the voice of joy and the voice of gladness.
For I know 'not a trace will be left of the wicked or their families. The Lord protects His people, and they can come to Him in times of trouble. The Lord helps them and saves them from the wicked because they run to Him.'

And with this knowledge I bring the swell which has consumed me. I bring my battered and injured soul. I bring my heart, my mind, myself; all pieces of me.

I peel away the imperfections. I praise my Almighty Father. I pray for his mercy. I read and learn of His ways and wishes for me.

And in this the white squall subdues. What began as minute infractions; what brought me to a sordid pit has diminished at His feet! Now with hands raised high, I celebrate the grandeur of our Lord in a pinnacle of revelry!

Dare I share my story… Dare I speak of my defeats and triumphs… Dare I share stories of His glory…

Dare you listen and heed these words wholeheartedly?

by: DeAna Colon

Wait and See

by Brandon Heath

Through Your Eyes

Through your eyes, you see a deviant. Someone
capable and willing to deceive for her own benefit.
In His eyes I am perfectly made, working passed the flesh.

Through your ears you hear half truths,
never fully believing spoken words.
In His ear, He hears my true desires.
The innermost thoughts and truths yet to be vocalized.

Through your mind I am to be doubted
or questioned, with intentions all my own.
In His mind I am beautiful.
Beautifully broken.
And loved nonetheless.

His senses carry me farther than
any idea, image or word of yours.
And that is what matters most to me.

And with that I will continue to sing His praise.

Whether it falls upon deaf ears.
Whether it passes a blind eye.
Whether it enters a closed mind.

My praise is His.
And I am His.
Beautifully broken.

by: DeAna Colon

The Cracked Pot

A water bearer had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his masters house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.”

"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"

"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your masters house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts." The pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the masters house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the Pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.


The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pots side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We’re all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, the Lord will use our flaws to grace His Father's table. In God's great economy, nothing goes to waste. Don’t be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty. Know that in our weakness we find our strength.

2 Corinthians 12:10 "That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."