If we truly are to believe we have been saved, then it must be from the brink of certain death.
Anything less does not warrant saving beyond this side of eternity.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Friday, October 16, 2015
Weeding the Garden of My Heart
Amidst the vast expanse of a grassland, lies a garden reflecting hues of yellow and green from its yearly summer bloom of flora. A fleeting glance of the sight cajoles an impeccable imagery of paradise. Oh what a glorious sight.
However at a closer glance, the edges of flowers reveal hints of impending doom; traces of foreign plants, going against the normalcy of what a perfect garden should entail.
Weeds.
Some have walked too long with clouds overhead, and grown to love the dark of shade.
Cowering under the flattery of highly alluring flowers, weeds are grown; out of sight, out of mind. If not careful, by the turn of a season, the summer bloom might just regress into destruction.
Isn't this an apt parallel of our hearts? Whatever we keep secret (or sacred for that matter), in the shade of our beguiling persona, we run the risk of a looming catastrophe.
Navigating the precipice of the heart is a deep sense of vulnerability, an acknowledgement of that which is beyond our control. Weeding the garden of the heart takes immense security, but with rewards far outweighing the smothering subjugation from the weeds.
A musing in my mind of late.
However at a closer glance, the edges of flowers reveal hints of impending doom; traces of foreign plants, going against the normalcy of what a perfect garden should entail.
Weeds.
Some have walked too long with clouds overhead, and grown to love the dark of shade.
Cowering under the flattery of highly alluring flowers, weeds are grown; out of sight, out of mind. If not careful, by the turn of a season, the summer bloom might just regress into destruction.
Isn't this an apt parallel of our hearts? Whatever we keep secret (or sacred for that matter), in the shade of our beguiling persona, we run the risk of a looming catastrophe.
Navigating the precipice of the heart is a deep sense of vulnerability, an acknowledgement of that which is beyond our control. Weeding the garden of the heart takes immense security, but with rewards far outweighing the smothering subjugation from the weeds.
A musing in my mind of late.
Friday, October 02, 2015
A Sort of Sappy Nostalgia
Feeling a deep sense of nostalgia as I discover the semester coming to a permanent closure. What a poignant reminder mid-semester.
The end of November would see an education of 19 years come to an end. It was a fleeting moment for me to better understand two decades of the journey. I tried to take it all in.
Wide-eyed preadulthood fades away, as does the flawless image of parent to child. But I was fortunate to have been injected with such an accumulation of feelings tonight, knowing that the journey here had left a deep imprint of friends, memories and blessings, and that God had always been the ultimate orchestrator of it all.
I had honestly expected to leave town green with a sort of sappy nostalgia, at watching myself close a chapter, and seeing and parting with familiar faces. But it turned out to be a blessed experience for me; aspects of my life I can only hope to re-create as I go along my fledgling journey.
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