Where should we go today?

file9821283659081

 

When you look in the mirror

You see someone small…

You see a body too short

to see out high windows

Hands not strong enough to open doors

Legs that get tired when ‘over there’ is too far from ‘over here’.

 

But when I look in the mirror,

I see you and Me.

You in Me.

Me in you.

I see We!

 

What shall we do today, little one?

 

Come sit on My shoulders, from up here you can see…

Out windows,

Over fields,

Across dim valleys to brighter places that are waiting for our feet.

We can see into Forever.

 

Those stubborn doors?

No door can resist your hand on Mine,

So pick one!

 

We will go exploring.

It’s okay if your legs get tired,

we’ll use Mine.

 

When We look into the mirror, what do We see?

 

Light-Bearers who shatter darkness

Key-Holders who rescue captives

Love-Healers who fix broken hearts and lives

 

You in Me

Me in you…

WE

 

What shall We do today?

 

Word ~ Di Wilson   |   Image ~ morgueFile

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The Rubbish Heap

007

 

At one time I so dreaded

Growing old, fearing regrets

Dumped in a dark rubbish mound

At my memory’s back door.

 

Would I regret choices made,

Opportunities lost,

Journeys not yet taken,

And friendships forsaken?

 

But now, after the pain

Of fifty years,

Some joys, some tears,

It seems there is some gain.

 

What’s outside I won’t deny,

But the dark heap seems to have

Become a small green hillock

Of soft grass where children play,

My wife delights in the sun,

And friends long known or new made

Bury things of no more use.

 

I guess it is a little

Untidy, but it doesn’t

Seem to smell much any more

And it does give me something

To look at from my back door.

© Johan Rich 2009

Image – Di Wilson

It’s a New Dawn, It’s a New Day!

001image ~ Di 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

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

Bubbles & Reflections

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Photos by Scott Wilson

Rescued!

029

The possibility of

Something else

Something beautiful

Something more

Doubles the weight

Of the chains that

keep

Me

In this dark existence

Stuck

 Hopeless

Broken

But then

Light

Colour

Sound

That sends

Bubbles and

Vibrations and

Dance

Swirling through

My body

And soul

An EXPLOSION

of life!

Ah!

How beautiful

Salvation is!

Image ~ (a much younger) Hayley Wilson | Words ~ Abi Ackhurst

 

Architects in the making

 

I’d like to introduce you to our Kingdom Kids. They are a delightful bunch of 6 to 9 year-old’s, and they love Jesus. We have tons of fun together on Sundays. A few weeks back, we split up in teams and I gave them the task of building the highest tower they could armed with marshmallows and spaghetti. It was fascinating to watch their minds in action, as well as the group dynamics. For some – self-control proved too hard and their bricks went into their tummies instead of  their towers! Enjoy…

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Colours of Love

Painting by Caitlin Schulze