You’re Glorified

10.3.2013  During worship on Sunday I wrote the basic words. Johan went to the mic and spoke of how the Lord is Glorified in all things. Gavin then explained that the Lord is even Glorified in our failings. I knew I needed to put the finishing touches to what the Lord had given me.

100

Dolphin leap, the Eagles soars to Your Glory.

Spiders spin, proud Peacocks, Your Glorified.

A gurgle of a stream, of a baby happy,

All murmur:

Lord of all creation, be Glorified.

Flash…CRASH…Raging Waters to Your Glory!

Lions roar, Parrots Screech, Your Glorified.

The scream of the tickled one,

All SHOUT:

Lord Almighty, be Glorified.

Fallen, sin, condemnation. To Your Glory?

Guilt, failed, No Hope. You Glorified?

Where to turn for freedom?

All PAID:

In full, Jesus, be Glorified

 words – Stan Dugmore March 2013     |     image – Di Wilson

 

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From the hearts of the short people

I found these gems on our drawing table at church yesterday. We have a table set up permanently with paper and wax crayons – partly to keep bored kiddies busy, but also for any prophetic inspiration that might bubble up during the meetings. I thought these were worth sharing…

2013-05-12-260Artist ~ Anon

2013-05-12-261

Artist ~ Anon

2013-05-12-262

Artist ~ Hayley Wilson

Thwarted Thoughts

Abstract red, green and blue background

You start with a blank page. Slowly, slowly, you put your finger to the keyboard, and whoosh! You’re away. The thoughts come thick and fast, not really stopping to say hi, just skipping right through the gateway of your brain, down to your heart, and then out through your fingers. You never really knew that you had it in you, did you? You never knew that you thought so much, so vibrantly, in a swirl of living colours that are constantly changing shape and yet always look vaguely familiar. Like the mirror.
You look in the mirror one day, and you will be surprised at what you see. Really look into your own eyes, the windows of your soul, and tell me if what you see is who you are.
I sometimes sit and stare at myself in that piece of silver truth. Not because I’m vain, but because I’m curious as to how this pale white girl’s face can really be mine. I’m pretty sure I don’t look like that inside me. I’m pretty sure my soul has no race, no excess flesh, no pierced ears. I think my soul is a lot more interesting to look at than this carefully fenced perimeter that is my body. Is that face really the mask in front of all my dreams, all my ideas? Is that face really hiding my thoughts?

I think that maybe if my face looked like my thoughts it would look very different. My thoughts don’t come attached to dark brown eyes and even darker hair. They don’t have freckles and the odd occasional left over teenage acne. They don’t need their eyebrows plucked and they don’t enjoy wearing make up. And they certainly don’t arrive with a stud in their nose.

My thoughts would appear like liquid silver rainbow, flowing and winding around each other. You wouldn’t be able to kiss them, because they’d be either very hot or so cold your lips would stick to them. Every now then you’d see a flash of blue as inspiration came sliding up from everywhere, slowly caressing or hitting with a sledgehammer.

There would be a thought made up of pink cloud, winding it’s way along the garden path, dancing and being blown in the breeze. Fragile as smoke, strong as my will. It would be called “love”, and it would be everywhere.
Then there is “freedom”, which wraps itself around everything at once. Where it is restricted, it creeps through the keyhole and under the door. It is green, and feels like candy floss and mozzarella cheese. But not together. Apart.
“Joy” is a tricky one to describe. It starts from my toes, you see, and it bubbles it’s way up my legs, into my stomach, through my heart and then comes out in a fountain of yellow sunflowers and little white daisies. It’s soft and warm, and it’s not blown away like “happiness” is. It’s sturdier. Like bubbles made of steel.
A swish of black, a sprinkling of gold, a spiral of purple and red and yellow and orange, and lilac and puce, and mauve and apple green and…is “creativity”. It never stops moving. It’s always there, sometimes tossing and turning restlessly in sleep, but mostly waltzing it’s way around like it owns the place.
Sometimes there is “anger”. When he comes out to play, in his thunderous black cloud, all the other thoughts go running, cowering under each other in an attempt to get away from the destruction. Anger leaves behind a sooty black trail, as though a chimney sweep has been making his way through my heart. Only one wonder thought can get rid of the greasy marks. “Repentance” grabs a hold of the wafting “love’, and pours it out on the stains, then pulls up it’s sleeves, gets down on it’s hands and knees and scrubs till it’s knuckles are raw with “forgiveness”. A tricky job repentance has.

There are many more thoughts that inhabit this swirling mass of silver cloud. A few are dark and torturous, but they are kept on a leash, with a muzzle to soften their snarls. They are often not fed, and then they slowly disappear and die, with only a slight burn mark to commemorate their brief non-existent existence.
Sometimes I put them in a cage, these dark ones. I tell myself it’s for my own benefit, when in actual fact it’s so that my King can’t get to them.

You see, all these thoughts are held in the hand that created me. He does not control them, but they are jealously guarded and cared for. He waters and develops the beautiful ones, and will often give me a gift of some more.
The dark ones He roots out. Burns. Destroys. If I let him.
He cultivates a beautiful thing, behind this mask-face. If I let Him. And I want to let Him. I figure His thoughts are a whole lot more, a whole lot bigger, a whole lot brighter, than any of mine could ever be.

So God, do as You will.

Words ~ Abi Ackhurst | Image ~ Corel

Promises over our children

We had a Children’s Church pow-wow today here at HCC. In between video clips, training material, tea, cake and play-dough, we spent some time praying for our children and those who work with them on Sundays. These drawings are promises over our kids that came out during that time…

CCPW - KA

Bridge Builders by Kandas Ackhurst

CCPW - AA

Hands of Promise by Abi Ackhurst

CCPW - DW

Each one unique, yet knit together… catching the wind of the Holy Spirit! by Di Wilson

CCPW - HW

Outside the Box by Hayley Wilson

CCPW - KA2

by Kandas Ackhurst

CCPW - TS

They will be His smile, His hands and feet, His movement and His voice – Thobani Sojola

Peace, Be Still

PH00627

The noise does not start when the taxi driver hoots

while passing by your house in the morning

The noise or should I say chaos or movement is in the

muscle, energy, mind, heart, soul and spirit realm.

The internal noise can be bigger than the external.

The Word says “Be still and know that I am God.”

Shhh… be still!

~

Learning to be still is something I have had to teach myself and still am.

In the past people were being taught how to be busy but now

The world’s people are having challenge of hearing the voice of God.

Shhh… be still.

~

Hear me right,

It’s not because God is not talking to us

It is not because the Holy Spirit in you is not willing to dine but you are not at the table

You are busy working after work, watching movies, partying and already engaged

Excuse yourself from activities and dine

Shhh… Be still.

“Peace I give to you,” says Jesus

Why have we then not walked in it in our lives?

Why when we’ve been given peace, have we not received yet?

Are we too busy, too far removed to stay connected to the source

So that we remain in peace

Shhh… Be Still

~

So today I rested, I rested my schedule, my heart, my mind

And my spirit & soul were still

In the stillness the Holy Spirit is audible.

I reconnect and in peace, joy and love I remain

Shhh… be still and know that I am the Vine and branch can bear no fruit without Me

I am in the Vine and like Moses I can do nothing without Him

Shhh… Be Still

~

Words ~ Siphokazi Simandla | Image ~ Corel

10/12/2011

Image

The Nod

The Nod

Sshhh!

Kandas Newness

Hush now-

Growth has

begun!

~

Listen to the

Soft sounds

Of secrets

Revealed

An unfurling

Of dreams

Gone dead

~

Now

Alive

Now

Revived

~

Ssshh…

The song

Of celebration

Is starting

The tune

Of transformation

Is ours

~

Take it.

Trust it.

~

Life given…

Freely received.

image ~ Kandas Ackhurst | words ~ Abi Ackhurst

You Call Me… A Child of Promise

Child of Promise

Now we, as Isaac was, are the children of promise …
And as such we are heirs of the promise made to believing Abraham.
Galatians 4:28 King James Bible (Cambridge Ed – paraphrase)

Image – Di Wilson, also featured on the Facebook page You Call Me

You are His Love to the World

You are His love to the world. Where you go, He goes. All the bounty of heaven is available to you. Such an abundance of life. His kingdom invading this world as you follow Him…loving others,bringing healing,encouragement and hope. Just like a rainbow brings dynamic colour to a black and white scene, so you are like that rainbow with so much promise and beauty. It doesn’t matter how old you are, or what you do, it is who you are in Christ Jesus. Let Him pour all the goodness of heaven through you to those around you. His love to the world !

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Prophetic Word @ HCC, Sunday 13 January 2013

by Di Bosse

Working with Wood

I’ve been hanging onto this post, wondering how to show off these images in the best way possible. The story behind them is something very close to my heart. I’d like to introduce you to Grant Puchert – who is 11, and Richard Whitbread, a sprightly 85. Richard is a carpenter with an extraordinary way with wood. He also has a teacher’s heart  and has been mentoring Grant in the art of woodwork. Below you will find photos of some of the things that Grant has made. Did I mention that he’s only 11?

IMG_0076

I think there is something so right about 85 years of finely honed gifting and talent being passed onto the new generation.

Dream with me for a moment, if you will… imagine each of us took the time to take our gifting – whatever it may be – and pass it on to a younger someone with similar talents.

Can you imagine?