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Subconscious Storm – The questions of illusion – Part 3

The shivering cold, the drifting ache, the cutting wind spray; it was all pointless. Not in the sky nor the deep just the lukewarm of churning stillness. Rocking back and forward always in motion, yet never arriving.

All emotion seemed futile except escapism. So I escaped into my head. Dreaming yet conscious, I drifted above and sensed a feeling.

I saw infantile images of horses running. It flickered like a propaganda movie. Birds flying, up and down looping the same story. I would splash all day to earn my right to fall unconscious and watch the birds fly so I could be weightless for a moment. When it was finished the cycle compounded the reality that I had just created another empty universe.

As I slept awake I saw a bird swirling above my head. Its silhouette shrieked of hope. As suddenly as it appeared it was gone, but it dropped a small round thing. I quickly paddled to the dollop hoping I was not asleep. It was a worm. A caterpillar, green and unsightly. Yet it was the only thing in my life worth protecting. The only thing which made my spirit leap. I was tempted to eat it but then felt terrible for the thought. I had been here before, but for some strange reason things were different. It was daylight and although the butterfly kept no secrets I did not know its intentions.

“I must have been awake” for the sun sank and rose cyclic with the tide yet the caterpillar remained. I lay on my back and rested it on my chest. With the warmth of my organs I incubated it, for it was safest there. After one particularly cold night I felt a shifting on my head. A rustling in my hair. As the sun turned the water silver, I noticed there was a butterfly walking down my cheek. Its little legs tickled.

I admired it distantly and dared not make a move although it was so close. I was still bleeding and the thought to eat it although innate, seemed peculiarly unnatural.

The day was delightful. My heart rose and fell with the waves. I heard a voice carried like the sound of many leaves shimmering on the waters edge. It was weary but sincere.

“The horses are coming!” “If you are bleeding they can smell your scent on the air!!”.

“What does this mean?” I cried.

The voice did not answer, but continued “The horses are coming…thundering horses”

Fear gripped my soul for I could not stop the bleeding. “Will some body save me for I am lost?”

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Subconscious Storm – The moth is painful – Part 2

My body trembled with delight. When you are hungry even a mouth of sand fills our habitual motions. Why had I been so stubborn to the moth? It had chased me. Why did I not relinquish my reservations earlier? In a feeding frenzy motivated by the fear of dying I tried to clasp as many as I could. Like black ashen flower petals the moth remains, lay scattered on the surface of the water. Before I savoured the moment, the sweet taste in my mouth turned bitter. I felt the turn of an infection like the taste exposed milk. The itch on the back of neck could not be soothed with water, for it was salty and only aggravated the rash.

My skin began to bleed. The scent of blood was in the air. At once I felt foolish. The red ink wrote my story in the water. My reflection was distorted and coloured in this aching meniscus.

I felt a target; vulnerable. Screaming in pain under the surface of the water as if my body wanted to launch flares for help.

“It was just a moth in the moonlight. “ I thought to myself .”And now I am poisoned. I wish I never looked into those eyes!”

It felt so ridiculous that such a small thing would warrant so much of my attention; so much of my energy. My fingers couldn’t stop the bleeding. They created it in the first place, by grabbing what was not mine and crumpling and tearing the delicacy in a moment of curios desperation. I thought the moth would fill my stomach with sustenance, but it was as nutritious as grit in my teeth. I wish I could grind my fingers with my gritty teeth. How I longed for the arms of strength to rest my head and be upheld by a stronger frame. But the water was like quicksand jello , so unsupportive.

Everything hurt. “That moth was to blame.” I continued in my mental monologue, “It knew what it was doing all along. It had eyes that could see”.

That night was long and memorable yet short and repressed.

”I did not even eat a moth. What evidence is there to show except for a little blood and a few broken wings?” I tried to argue.

Yet my body turned against itself, the conflict no longer external but deep within. I wanted to dive deep, to find a familiar friend or at least to hide the blatantly obvious. The dawn was coming and my shame would be on parade.

“Run!, run like a legless man in quicksand! Run, you cannot remain here!” The thoughts beat my mind into a corner and like a snake they bit the sensitive bits.

I dived deep; it was black, and I was more afraid. I wasn’t necessarily afraid of the dark but of what could lurk in the dark. I couldn’t breathe and I knew I couldn’t linger in the in the shadow of death. So I pushed the weight of the water and willed myself back to the surface. The familiarity made me sick to my gall. But at least I felt safe.

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Subconscious Storm – In the beginning – Part 1

How can I speak with you? I hope you understand my language because the words are not the message but the meaning behind; the senses still commune despite your mother tongue. I call water as it is ;but to you, you may have another word, depending on your heritage, but in essence it is the same. It is an expression of an impression. It cannot fully describe, but gives a doorway to a facet of the jewel.

How do I know it is water, when I have nothing to reference? I’m speaking to those who speak my language, those who cannot, will found my sounds, shapes and sights nonsensical, just like a jabbering mad man. You may create your own meaning which to me is satisfactory .If you can decipher the riddle, and pull yourself from the middle of the restlessness, the blindness, and mute frustration of so many passers by, you might find something sacred; those others in the water.

I will try to understand their language too, for it has a different emphasis, intonation and accent. It is the other side to the story. Those stories can only be spoken with a different voice. Not familiar but kindred. It is imperative to join with those that are kindred so we ought not be a one winged bird, 3 legged octopus or a deaf evangelist.

Subconscious Storm – In the beginning – Part 1

I awoke falling like a dew drop from the stars into a heavy mass of deep water. As I hit the concrete water I was knocked unconscious.

The water was sickly warm with cold pockets of turbulence from the deep. It was a black limitless abyss. As far as my eyes permitted me to see were a curved horizon of two shades of blue. My head was level with the water.

How could I see?

With beating kicks I tried to propel myself into the air, but flailed like a deflated buoy. Exhausted I felt nothing, saw nothing, but I could hear a whimpering sound. The sound of a drained soul carried in the wind. Its freshness did not mix with the arid salted drifting body we floated in. We were in an unnatural place. We were not made to swim.

Would somebody save me?

The sun blistered my face while my body shrivelled water logged and tender. White, wrinkled and decayed, my face darkened with spots and callous creases.
Hours, minutes, seconds, days with no reference point, except the movement of the sun, the ebb and flow of the waves put me to sleep.
I saw shapes of others in the darkness

and decided to dive deep. For a time I sat, willing myself to dive, deliberating because I was afraid and needed to build to the occasion. Under the metallic speckled sky of stars the moon attracted the water. In the caustic reflection a moth landed on my head. It must have been attracted to my light, to my warm blooded soul. I was hungry and wondered if it would satisfy. I picked it from my head and looked into its winged eye pattern. Its appearance left me wondering, but the moth looked so drab. With too much time on my side the temptation beckoned me to act.

The moth cried in a barely audible high pitched frequency. Like the call of bats it pierced my ears attracting only the dogs attuned. I should have thrown the delicate moth into the water, but because of my close proximity and the curiosity that so easily ensnares I closed my eyes in the liquid oil and threw back my head to swallow. The itchy irritation fluttered down my throat drowning in saliva. Out of the mist of the night a cloud of moths drifted around my face. I clutched wildly, grabbing fluttering hand fulls of moth, throwing them into my mouth like a man plucking paper money from the air. I was surviving without daily bread and this it appeared was my only hope of sustenance.

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Beauty is Holiness

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According to Wikipedia (the fountain of truth that we know it as) the classical Greek word for beautiful was “ὡραῖος”, an adjective delivered from the word “ὥρα” or hour. In Koine Greek, beauty was thus associated with “being of one’s hour”. A ripe fruit (of its time) was considered beautiful.

Mulling over this concept of beauty I began to apply it to the beauty of God. If beauty is something that is revealed in its due time and then decays I wondered does Gods beauty fade?

Beauty from an earthly perspective may include the brightness of a geranium, a fluffy Labrador pup, the innocence of a newborn, the rapturing moment of a bride stepping down the aisle, the panorama of a mountain vista, the design on a Milan runway, the goose-bumps from an entertaining performance, or the iconic lines of an architectural landmark. Some like to call it the “wow” factor. Moments in time that take our breathe away. The moment to shine, the hour of beauty. For many it is fleeting. As the object or idea has a life span, a duration, a use by date. One can only stand and look at a painting for so long no matter how beautiful it is before our attention wanders. It is a reflection of God, yet earthly beauty fades.

As a Christian it is sometimes a struggle to explain this faded beauty, the ‘ugliness’, suffering, and pain. Equally a universe devoid of God makes it difficult to pinpoint the root and existence of beauty.

I believe God is the substance of beauty and his presence is tangible, beautifying everything he comes into contact with. Although eternally the same, he is perpetually showing us new revelations. A continual eternal revealing, every split second on multiple levels. Mind blowing earth shattering revelations about his love, creation, creativity, truth, science and salvation. Revelations about ourselves himself and humanity. His beauty never deteriorates, dates or withers. God is ahead of the fashion industry, latest trends, hair styles, art movements and pop cultural phenomena. Those are old creations from yesterdays God inspired moments breathed upon us. His finger print of beauty is on everything he touches.

As he draws close to us we are exposed thoroughly and profoundly to his beauty. In vulnerability as we remove our veils of shame and condemnation we are adorned by grace in his presence. We are perfected in love. Like a jewel new facets of his glory are directed through us as we surrender.

It is in this “Holy of Holies” where his beauty is the most captivating. It is the place of “His” eternal moment to shine.

Holiness to some may be considered bland boring and irrelevant. Sometimes I picture a strict school master with her knitted sweater and the mouldy smell of institutionalism. It is as if “Holiness” is clutching to a by gone era in a last ditch effort to protect oneself from the changing times.

Fortunately holiness is the exact opposite. Holiness is at the very centre of attraction and desire. The centre of immediacy, freshness and vivacity. The heart beat of creativity and beauty.

David understood this as a worshiper beholding God’s beauty entering into this sacred place.

Psalm 50:2

2 From Zion, perfect in beauty,

God shines forth.

Beauty is at the centre of the gospel. This beauty and holiness radiates from his house calling us to intimacy. To connect heart to heart, mind to mind, spirit to spirit.

For King David the presence of the Lord was so intoxicating and so fascinating that he sought it above all things. Extremely wealthy he found Gods infinitely satisfying holiness priceless.

He gave the present day equivalent of 56 Billion US dollars in gold, silver and other precious materials from his own private money to build the temple. He was surrounded by creativity and the arts from all around the known world, yet found the most inspiration from one place. He had several of the most beautiful wives in the nation but he placed Gods beauty above that. He knew all the beauty of this natural earth were just a glimpse of the heavenly world.

For a man who could have anything this earth could offer he single heartedly sought one thing first.

Psalm 27:4

4 One thing I ask of the LORD,

this is what I seek:

that I may dwell in the house of the LORD

all the days of my life,

to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD

and to seek him in his temple.

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GENERATIONS – The Fathers Heart

In the 14th Century the revelation of the Son swept the earth with Martin Luther teaching the way of salvation. In the 20th Century the revelation of the Holy Spirit and pentecostalism became popular with healing evangelists like Smith Wigglesworth, and Rodney Howard Brown. I feel Today the revelation of the Father I believe is becoming more prevalent.

The last script of the Old testament finishes with

Malachi 4 The hearts of the fathers to the children,
And the hearts of the children to their fathers.

For many they understand the Son, and for some the Holy Spirit but most see the Father as distant and uninvolved. Most see ourselves in a better light as fathers then God our father.

Historically spiritual awakenings have only lasted one or two generations. This is because the children did not stand on the fathers shoulders and the work was reset. Many times because the fathers were too busy doing the work of the Lord and he children were uninvolved or at worst resentful.

I think we will see a shift from visitation to habitation. Much in line with what is happening naturally. Present, active and involved. A time when God lives with us continuely like a mirroring what an earthly father does.

I see the father heart of God is being restored to the church. The father is walking the bride down the aisle. The father heart of God brings a different spirit to the church.

Fathers don’t talk as much. They speak with actions. When they do speak it carries weight and people listen.

Fathers like spending time doing things rather talking about things. Shoulder to shoulder rather then face to face. Fathers enjoy providing. They bring in the wealth. Fathers are establishers. They build cities. Fathers are protectors. They bring a safe environment for babies. Fathers are the story tellers and jokers. Fathers are a more practical. They get to the point. Fathers don’t burn their children out expecting long hours. Fathers are aware of the health of their children. Fathers are actively involved in disciplining children in a way that is beneficial for the child.

I feel orphans will be gathered and fathered. A sense of performance won’t be prevalent but a sense of initiation and rites of passage made clear in a loving context will be accessible.

I believe the hearts of the fathers will learn from the sons and vice versa. It won’t’ be hierarchal leadership but mutual relational leadership. A place where we can question authority and not feel like we will loose our job but be understood that we are seeking wisdom. Fathers love to wrestle with their kids. A place where nanny state policies are done away with and helicopter mother governments remove red tape. The old guard are kept young while the young test there metal uninhibited by redundant and interfering systems. I believe the wisdom of time as a father with the awareness of the current time as a child is a potent combination.

As a member of Hillsong church I do find it interesting that the father aspect of the trinity is not mentioned in the current Vision statement of 2014. The final sentence of the Vision statement reads.

‘Whose head is Jesus, Help is the Holy Spirit and whose focus is the Great Commission.’

In the past I would have suggested we change the statement to.

“Whose head is Jesus, Help is the Holy Spirit, Heart is of the Father and whose focus is the Great Commission.”

But I believe its omission to be an interesting statement itself. The father doesn’t need to be talked about. When a baby is born it can’t say “Father”. It doesn’t make the fathers role invalid. Fatherhood is in the very nature of Hillsong church and is carried in the leadership. The whole vision statement is full and brimming with the heart of the Father. It is another level to embody the fathers heart rather then merely talk about it. A friend at work showed me a picture yesterday. It was his child’s first portrait. A mess of disjointed lines but it was a clear image of a man with glasses and a beard. It gave so much joy to him as he quipped ‘I was the first face he ever painted!’. He never taught his son what he looked like or how to draw his son just learnt his nature by being with him.

Jesus didn’t just do what the father said. He did what saw the father doing.

John 5:19 Jesus gave them this answer: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does.

I am currently on a journey to see the father. I have always believed if I see the father I would be dead, now I am starting to realise its the only way to operate because thats how Jesus did. I will elaborate on this in the next chapter.

A son and daughter doesn’t just take orders. They mimic their parents. They don’t take notes, they take on the very nature, copying mannerism, attitudes, facial expressions, mirroring them in all facets of their life. It doesn’t need to be said it happens by osmosis, in the very act of being present together over a lifetime.

A father leaves a legacy. They will sacrifice for their sons to go further. A father will give up his platform to share it with his son and support him from behind the scenes. We will see people who see there purpose in the next generation rather then in their ministry.

I am all about the heart of the church. I believe Hillsong does have the heart of the father. The same spirit that the Father had when he ran for the prodigal son. It is a allegory for God who only runs in one circumstance, towards us. He can fly or teleport if he really wants to but he enters the gravity of our world and runs towards us in our reality. I am starting to see people not as christian or non christian but as fathered or fatherless.

John 14:16 “I will not leave you as orphans but I will come to you.”

In media I believe you will start to see a return to esteeming fatherhood. This week the top story writer from Channel 7, 65 year old Bevan Lee brought up the fact that fathers in childrens cartoons are always seen as buffoons. He felt setting a culture like this is a very dangerous message for the next generation. Below is a recent documentary by a film company called “Variable” in the states. It highlights what its like with an absent father.

Natural Life

Here in a recent whisky ad, you can see the shift in tone. The love of a father strikes to the core.
Bell Whisky

I also don’t think its a coincidence I am working with children under 3 creating kids curriculum. Ironically even in this cartoon we created we are still pleasing the grumpy bear. I think the grumpy bear wants to give us a hug!

Hillsong Kids Curriculum (under 3) – Melody and Max Pilot Cartoon

I feel the children’s ministry is very important. It is the nursery for some of our greatest leaders the earth has ever seen. More then our generation. Pouring in everything we have to them with boundaries and love over the next 30 years should be one of our highest priorities.

Next I will talk on the gateway to death. If Jesus is a gate to the father does it open both ways?

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THE HONEYMOON – Intimacy

 

2982209-Honeymoon-Bed-P-0God is taking us to a deep affection. A place where we take our place in our identity. We receive the full weight of his glory. The outworking of a Covent agreement with saviour. It’s where we have the “Knowledge of the whole earth filled with his glory”. The word “knowledge” is a word of sustenance. This knowledge will be revealed on a scale we have never seen. A new era of sustainable power like we have never imagined. A time where fewer words are needed. The people in the New Testament did’nt have the New Testament for except maybe a few letters. This is a time where we not only value reading the book of Acts but more importantly we value writing and creating the book of Acts. A time of unlimited chapters that will not end.

This is a time where we don’t even need to talk about God. For he is with us present. His word speaks in his actions. Just like Moses raised his hands and they won the battle without a word spoken. Just like Pauls shadow healed the sick. Just like Moses threw a staff down and it turned into a snake. The magicians could replicate it but they had to speak incantations. Moses didn’t have to say a word. The word was already given. The word was present in bodily form.

Talking about God can get in the way of letting him speak for himself. When we have 3 people in a room and two talk about the other it becomes weird. Apart from an introduction it separates us from the person we are talking about. But when we let him speak from himself a relationship is formed.

Acts 16
6 Once when we were going to the place of prayer, we were met by a female slave who had a spirit by which she predicted the future. She earned a great deal of money for her owners by fortune-telling.17 She followed Paul and the rest of us, shouting, “These men are servants of the Most High God, who are telling you the way to be saved.”18 She kept this up for many days. Finally Paul became so annoyed that he turned around and said to the spirit, “In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to come out of her!” At that moment the spirit left her.

Here we can see the slave girl talked about God. Paul wanted to speak with God and then bring him to the people. She was a slave not a daughter and got in the way of Gods plans by talking about him. The spirit she had was the spirit of Pythia. A religious spirit that sucks the air out of its victim as it is talking too much and not receiving the constant breathe of God. It causes heaviness, sadness and depression and kills everything God wants to do. The only people who could understand her were the religious. For the rest it made no sense further separating them from God.

Have you heard people talk about relationships till they are blue in the face but never experienced it? Or worse stopped you from experiencing it because you had to listen?…. Talk, talk, talk, talk.

It can lead to such desire, frustration, eventually sadness and even resentment.

It is not the “m” word. Self love. Where we go through all the same motions and activity void of the relationship, and love. We do all the work and feel empty at the end. Excuse me if I am being too honest but I feel this is how many of us relate to God. It is idolatry and brings isolation and no fruitfulness.

God is asking us shut up and let him take us to a place of intimacy. In this place is where the cycle of pregnancy begins.

The veil has been removed. We can rest with God completely joined to him.

Paul talks about this ‘Profound mystery’ like a the way a husband and wife become one, all of humanity becoming one with Christ. 1+1=1.

Ephesians 5:31
For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”[c] 32 This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church

To become one with Christ is literally mind blowing. This means that everything Christ is, we are. If Christ sits in heaven, we can. If Christ talks face to face with angels, we can. If Christ can talk with past prophets and believers of old, we can. If Christ can be anywhere on earth, we can. Literally. This is not a theory, this is reality. I won’t stretch or push your mind too much here or even give you scriptures. Search it out yourself and ask yourself the question WCJD, What can Jesus do?

When we join with Jesus the natural world and the spiritual world start to blend. Just like marriage it is a physical and spiritual union.

Many believe death is the gateway. They believe when we die we will see heaven, we will talk with angels we enter a place of intimacy with Christ. I would like to suggest because we have honoured death and made it the key to heaven we have not enjoyed this mystical union of heaven before death.

Jesus asks to pray in the Lord’s Prayer ‘On earth as it is in heaven’

If it is our job to help reveal heaven to earth how can we do it if we’ve never experienced it?

How can we encourage other people in the ways of marriage if we have never experienced this daily adult intimacy first hand. A text book of information will never cut it.

Be encouraged. We are on the frontier of signs, wonders and literal heaven invading the church in a way the earth has never thought possible. Death is not the gateway. Like a branch attached to a tree, when we join with Christ he becomes the life of heaven in us.

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THE WEDDING – Covenants & Celebration

Wedding Dress

In recent times, an understanding of the ‘Bride of Christ’ has swept across the church. We have seen the beauty of King Solomon’s temple slowly restored.

Many people once believed the church is the people not the building. But now I believe many churches are beginning to value the arts once again like the days of Michelangelo or St Peters Basilica . I personally believe the building should represent the value of the people. Critics have said it is not the outward appearance that matters but the heart, but to me it is both. The outward appearance speaks of what is in the heart and relates it to man. His beauty is his holiness. His spotless bride.

I was once at a Christian youth conference and skipped a session to attend a job interview for a dream job I had applied for. As I left, my GPS didn’t seem to work properly so I pulled up beside a quiet cemetery to recalibrate my journey. It was then I realised the interview was in Liverpool Sydney, not Liverpool Brisbane (Thirteen hours drive from the place I was living). To put it in context, all week I was desperate to discover what my calling, my purpose, my God give reason for being on this blue and green orb. I had just finished university and after 6 months and nearly 200 hundred job applications, I had received this one solitary interview. I thought this was God answering my prayer, only to find my dream job was a mere 923Km away from my current spot next to the cemetery.  Despondent I exited my vehicle and sat like a potato on a cemetery bench. I figured it was as good a spot as any to feel sorry for my self. I didn’t even have to pretend to be happy as onlookers would grace me with sympathy at the appearance that I was morning uncle Joes death from 1954.

Away from the noise of the conference I figured maybe God could speak to me. After a transcendent moment of the dappled sun light dancing through the petals of a cherry blossom tree I found a strong compulsion to answer a peculiar question. Would I surrender everything? Like a cornered man I felt I should raise my hands. Across from me a funeral procession was in full swing and the casket was passing by. I felt completely unnatural sitting on the bench contemplating this decision.

In my mind I could see the irony at my hesitation considering I had  been raising my hands to the Lord all week at the conference in a dimly lit room with thousands of other fearless teenagers . I had come to my whits end and I felt the only thing stopping me was a dash of pride with a sprinkle of male ego. Like a boy jumping into a pool I abruptly raised my hands and closed my eyes. I would like to day the whole world gasped? But it didn’t, I barely think anyone battered an eyelid but right then four words dropped into my conscience.

‘Decorate the Brides Dress’

To 99% of the planet this would be where one would call people in white coats to check ones sanity, but to me this was straight from the throne of heaven.

Instantly my confusion and pity party changed into a peaceful bliss of reassurance. That was it. This made everything in my life make sense. 

Since this moment over 10 years ago I have consistently aimed to decorate the brides dress through creativity and the arts, namely music and film production. Spending alot of time, money and effort bringing glory to God through the church; the “Bride of Christ”. Christ does not want a bride with a “good heart” coming down the isle in “tracky-dacks” and “ugg boots”. He wants us to pour honour on his bride because he cherishes her and it also honours him. How much should we spend? I ask how much do you value your bride? I guess this is why when I see bad “wedding dresses” in the church it really bugs me. Its not simply about the money. Its about taste, and what we value. Maybe thats why I really hate bad banners, or poorly created flyers with comic sans fonts.

More and more today I see the Church is becoming like a wedding. Moments of awe,surprise and wonder. Like the Olympic games or World Cup opening celebration the dress of the church will be made by world leading artists and craftsmen. Highly disciplined, relational and creative wedding planners inspired by God will appear. In Exodus 36 it describes a particular artists to whom the Lord gave skill and ability to decorate the brides dress.

Exodus 36

1 So Bezalel, Oholiab and every skilled person to whom the LORD has given skill and ability to know how to carry out all the work of constructing the sanctuary are to do the work just as the LORD has commanded.” 

Craftsmanship is a reflection of the beauty and goodness of God. It is the goodness of God that leads us to repentance. In the same way it is the goodness of lovers that lead them into a covenant agreement. Most people know their lives are empty they just don’t see God as an answer. I believe when people see the true nature of God they will flock in the millions and serve him wholeheartedly as Christ first loved us.

I see that after the ceremony and the reverence of covenant agreement the reception will then continue. The reception entails a giant banquet. Electric parties will gather people from all walks of life. The book of Esther really shows how God uses our gifts to stand up for the poor, to protect the vulnerable. It is also a book with 10 banquets in it.

The club scene is shadow of a wedding reception. Instead of alcohol drugs and lust, the Holy Spirit will bring such freedom of his presence, and love. The Father Son and Holy Spirit relate in a dance. The best wine for last.

Safety and celebration from the fathers heart not lust and defilement from an abusive father. Entertainment as celebrations of humanity not on display as objects.  A fashion industry dancing in front of father figures who cherish them rather then those who lovelessly critique. A visual expression of what is overflowing form our heart. 

Many people get the “Whore of Babylon” and “Bride of Christ” mixed up. They label lights, music, film, dancing and every creative expression of beauty a sensual shallow force. I believe what we perceive with our senses is not inherently evil. It is the union of the sensory with the unseen that is most important. It is time for a different spirit to be represented.

The “Whore of Babylon” is self centred, and manipulative. The “Bride of Christ” represents a living breathing body that has a heart of gold but also captivates the heart of onlookers with the purest sense of love, sacrifice and commitment. 

The Bride doesn’t become a bride because of a nice idea or because she wants a beautiful moment. It is a life long covenant, it represents total surrender, yet brings total security.  It is a weighty matter that should not crush us but be given back to the groom as we celebrate him as he carry such a commitment. This inspires me to produce and release fresh creativity the world has never seen much like when the Queen of Sheba visited Solomons temple.

 1 Kings 10:4

 When the queen of Sheba saw all the wisdom of Solomon and the palace he had built, the food on his table, the seating of his officials, the attending servants in their robes, his cupbearers, and the burnt offerings he made at[a] the temple of the Lord, she was overwhelmed.

 

 

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