My heart’s desire


My heart aches, regardless of any other cause than something I, myself, couldn’t understand. It couldn’t be just mere gloom and depression. Something more should’ve caused it. I may be irrationally emotional at some time – that I’d scrunch seeing urine-stains on Hersteld, my very dear piano, and Rere (my sweetest begotten kitten) poops on my most precious Christmas pillow – but I know my edge well and I could tell it’s something radical and quintessential. ‘Tis something I cannot understand lest anyone  passionately explains it to me.

As I just recently lifted Rere up – telling her to stop playing with my earphone chord , something lashed my heart again. It’s the lyrics. The lyrics of Laura Williams’s version of “Battle Hymn”. The lyrics itself caused my brain to slow down from relenting and my heart from crashing especially during the parts that caught me off-guard.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet;
Our God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free;
While God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! While God is marching on.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

His truth is marching on!

The lyrics in bold… they struck me best, as in deep to the nanoscopic part of my soul. I realized how, as time passed wasted for self, I forgot what He taught me in the past. How lovely His life on earth was, from birth to His death. How He smiles despite the griefs and sins that He bore. How He lived not for His own irrefutably indisputable glory but for those who do not deserve it. How he cried out to the weary and oppressed that He may carry their burdens, the sorrowful that He may give them joy, the troubled that He may give them peace, and the longing that He may come to them with gladness, and the lepers… that He may heal completely their wounded souls by shedding His precious blood afresh which freed me from death and transfigured me to His perfection I never deserved.

The thought of not having come to Christ for long moved me. It seemed so long, indeed. My life has changed so much. But albeit unbecoming, I could never understand even, why I have been writing still – awaiting for His salvation. Maybe because of grace. It could be because of the Holy Spirit’s whispers which I ‘have not and cannot’ anticipate but have always felt.

Satan’s rabbits run after me and his arrows are before me, this I know, but despite of all the upsetting decisions and wrong choices I made – turning my head away from God, I, in great shame, still trust that He is with me still – protecting me.

Oh that I may end the pacing of my ego within my vessels that I may not again go against the will of  the One who willingly died for me! And, even so, may His word provide deeper longing in my heart each day that I may not depend on my own iniquitous heart and go forth with the passion for His commission, and be a servant to the earnest, the weak and the insurgent. May our merciful Father grant this prayer, in the beauteously glorious and precious name of His Son whose name is above all names, Jesus.

Wounded, longing and redeemed,

Blessy Bandola

…a child of the King of kings!

Crestfallen

“Crestfallen”

This word sounds christmas-sy to me.

At first I liked hearing it

especially that I’m so fond of Christmas and stuff relating to it.

I honestly don’t know why.

But as soon as I realized the real meaning of it, I cringed.

Not because I didn’t like it

but because it tells me of “me”

 

As I’m writing this, I feel so lonely.

I feel so empty.

I feel like God is gripping loosely on the tip of my shirt

and anytime soon, he’s letting go.

I’ve been the worst person I used to hate back then

I never thought I’d be

Who would? Nobody would even wish to

But that’s the  irony of my life.

And I’m so tired

I am tired

I want to get up

But my bed trapped me with its blankets

I feel so down

and ashame

I haven’t gone to God for so long

It’s a shame

And it hurts

People would wonder how painful shame is, they wouldn’t understand

just as I used to…

Nobody understands me

Should I give up?

But I couldn’t afford to loose what I’ve already invested

On the other hand, I’m too tired to move along

My life’s in trouble

more than I am

I’ve long been a sinner

Too long I couldn’t remember whence I’ve last tried not to sin

And these sins haunt my days to my dreams

I never had a good sleep

of which I could only have sound and peaceful sleep

without the thought of acceptance

from myself and anyone

I’m tired of this sin-wrecked life

I’m tired of seeing myself boned by sin

I’m tired of competing with everybody by holiness when inside I know I’ve never been

Holy?

Righteous?

Godly?

Pure?

Dedicated?

I’m too ashamed to put any of it before my name

The crown’s too heavy to bear for this sin-crippled little child

 

I want to leave

I want to leave this house

But I know it won’t do anything good especially for my sister

But leaving the sins

leaving the sinful life I’ve always enjoyed

Yes, life filled with temporal joys and lust is exciting

but there’s nothing greater than a life of peace

of pure joy

of love for God

of  truest faith

of hopefulness

of no shame for the character

 

I want to live the right way

I want to live a peaceful life

I want to be known

not by everyone

but by God

as a struggling crippled child

waiting to be carried away to His kingdom

 

Oh, Lord! Yes, carry thou this sin-darkened soul

it’s too ashame to present itself to you

itself of which rags are better

Please, dear Lord! I beg of thee

For I cannot speak this out to thee

Thy kingdom is too priceless for me, I could never afford

Please make me thine, I pray

that these chains around this leper be dismissed

and help me re-dedicate my life to thee

To none can I tell this but you

for thou alone art able to save

let this crestfallen-ness be replaced with jubilance

that I may serve thee with all of my heart…