Dust Settling, Soul Rising
A place where the dust settles and you realize you have settled into peace.
A place of still.
A place where there is no, me.
A place where there is no, they.
A place of total voided silence.
A place where only God exists, and I am there moment by moment soul beats away from what is on the other side of the veil…eternity.
The last season of my life I was trying to reach a place where my soul was silenced in order to listen, listen and reach a total surrendered eucharisteo again. Trying to find peace in the turmoil, trying to hear the soul Creator’s whisper over the raging storm.
I came to a point where I was one jinga block away from tumbling an entire tower of past events, past promises, past decisions, and past lives. That point where all the little insignificant nothings became somethings. The entire weight of starting over and rebuilding moments that were so heavy I was unsure if I wanted to pull that final block out, so I studied it.
Felt for the imperfections of it.
Saw the total corruption of it.
Heard the cracking of broken dreams giving way to new possibilities.
And not even telling myself to do it, I don’t even consciously remember reaching out and pulling, pushing that final stability away from the situation until I saw the crumble.
The inevitable tumbling. The mass destruction. Rubble piles at my feet. Breathe... In... Out...
As the world spins moment by moment and I watched an entire past life crumble before me, I realized life is fluid and changing. Life was never a fortified tower at all. I allowed the soul to immerse itself in the noise, the chaos, and finally, the silence.
Standing, rising from the dust or….
Dust is settling….
Either way I have found that my soul has found stable ground at the stripped bare landscape of life on the foundation stone, and nothing else. I realize that sometimes I need to reassemble past events, past promises, past decisions, and past lives into future blessings, future passions, future soul moments. When the grand Architect was taken out of the plan, and I started frantically building I forgot the very mortar that I did not even possess to make a tower rise.
Things that shouted look at me change and morph into look at Him. All my faults, pride, and “fake” dreams came tumbling down, and You see me stripped bare to show me that soul is all there is; the soul that is You, and the rest is nothing but dust.
Quietly there is writing in the sand.
And ever so quietly the soul beats and cries out for the soul-maker.
I see all the dust being drawn on and written in, to rewrite a story worthy of soul talk. You write and that is all.
You write power. You write mercy.
You write the Word.
You write love.
You write my very foundation.
Sand becomes stone before my infinite soul, and I realize Your mercy is the water that takes my dust and makes mortar.
All in the writing You do not address their sin, my sin, or my faults, their faults; you address the infinite because my dust is finite, and not worthy of infinite recognition. Your mercy covers my finite to make it infinite.
Soul cries out to soul, “ye without sin cast the first stone…,” and I realize that the very soul I am stoning is my own. My dust has become the wolves that howl relentlessly at night from my past trying to chase down my future.
And in one block that I faithfully pull out, I have silenced my demons.
All in one motion of obedience I have made the ground level again. Stepping back allowing that “burning bush” moment to singe my soul, to refine it.
Nothing to do with me at all. Nothing to do with my vindication. All is for the soul beat of the depths that so many fear to swim.
The Word is all there is.
It is written therefore it is.
I just am, because you are the I Am.
#findyourfrontier #writethefrontier #jinga #soulsearching #rebuildfromthedust