nathanael.ink

His mystery keeps me innocent I am sure.

I understand the principle of it, of trusting He is in control

But what steps do I take, what is the placement for my feet?

what action or inaction am I to take? where is wisdom?! where is childlike faith? I really, honest to goodness, I don’t know. I think I know what I want to be true, that I should act like a child and keep doing what I know has profited me nothing every time past. but I feel a pull to slow down, and be wise, and try to devise a way in what wisdom I have been given to win a heart. but Lord.. I want to build nothing for myself.. but no matter what way it would come, if it came at all, I’m am sure I could give the glory to You… I say it, but obviously, I think it’s not true. I struggle with pride. God, I want to be done, whatever You what to be done. ..

I want Him to do something that simply must glorify Him, and if it has anything to do with anything I feel, then great. but God.. aah, please. just, at least take my eyes of her, strips her from my brain. from my heart. every time I am in my happiest moment I wish that she was there for feel it with me, I always want to text her to say that I feel amazing.  God take it away. if it is not true, I don’t want it! I meant it God! I’m so tired of building things. only to watch them fall apart, for You are faithful to burn up what I have built with hay and chaff.. quick to expose, and I am so grateful. and I am honest to say it, that I am grateful, and I am glad to feel the sincerity of those words, because I am sure it was not always true for me. Faithful God.. let me sit like and child and be confident that You have control.

but still.. what action or inaction am I to take? time drags me along, moment passes to moment.. Lord, let it crumble, that I could seek You again, and be overwhelmed with what You’re teaching me. about suffering with You, about childlike faith, Lord. let me stay focused on those things.. but time drags me, and my heart burst to think of it all. honest God I don’t want to be a fool. but if I am to be a fool again I will do it in a heartbeat, but my heart breaks to feel it so torn between such small wanderings.

I want to have secrets with You Lord.. I want there to be things I say and do with You that only You know, and that I keep for just us. I want to bare Your stone which has something written which only You and I can read. oooh I want it soo.

Lord let me think of You as my day goes well, as the world is bright and full, may I honestly desire to share it all just with You! let my heart leap to the sound of Your name.. as it has done so much for hers. Lord.

.let me love You more, more than her. God my mind says love such as I feel for her, who could have made it but You.. but God, I know the heart is a mischievous thing, I know this flesh is against me. Lord, I want to love You more. really I want to.                     help me.. please Lord, I see no sensible way.

God when I am low down, let me find comfort in You. Lord if I am not ready to see her, Lord if the enemy works on my old wounds please. please please please let it pass, let the day perish. for to sleep the whole day would be better than to stir this already eager heart. Lord, or if You desire to bring me to her face to hear again that it is foolishness to let my heart feel so strong. then let me agree with her again, and whatever grace it was that shut up my heart so long let it come again and stay forever.  if I see her I would say nothing.

Lord what does an old heart say? where is reason even to see.

hhh…. God, let me dwell on You. not on her. steal away my heart. let me leave even this, to pursue You alone, in the still and quite. there is nothing more that I long for, but to know Your voice.. teach it to me

I call it funny, I call it a million things. maybe this is finally waiting. maybe I am listening.

is this waiting? to be still, and wonder, to take steps toward God. to read what books I can. to get in a daily Bible reading program.

to have Him on your mind, all the time. maybe this is waiting. maybe the thought of a faithful women is temptation. it is hard to know. what remains of me? how much of me is His already?

‘How long will I wonder?’.. I wonder.

“what are we if we’re not in love” says jon foreman. but lo, am I not in love? surely Love is even greater. goodness, it feels like this whole time I’ve always acknowledged the difference, but never acknowledged how I value them. honestly I think I’ve always thought that if I could get this love relationship with God down THEN I might find true love on earth. and, I figure that in exact meaning is still mostly true at least, but my heart about it, was all wrong.

as if love here on earth was the ultimate achievable place, the tip of the hierarchy of my desires, I treated God like a step, unknowingly, but still.

How can I desire Him more? when I cannot see Him? when I cannot feel Him?

.God let me share, in Your feeling, in Your suffering, in that which You partook in. Jesus, let me partake in it. You have been here, You have felt this place. like any two loves, let me feel as You have felt, that I might relate to You, thus gain understanding through feeling.

God.. You have a plan for all of it don’t You? for all I struggle with. for what I have tried to hold against You. You have a method to address it all, and it is clear, but I am so stubborn.. Help me want You more. more than any relationship. Help me know You. just as I feel the desire to know a woman I seem to feel love for, let me what to know You even more than that. I want to see what You have seen, I want to feel what You have felt.

God, there is so much of You I don’t know. so much of Your past, and granted You are the same, still, perhaps if I embark to explore Your stories of old I will find moment when parts of Your character came out. God. have at me. I am free to be obedient. I am free to be in love with You. let no desire come before, or go beyond that. You are the ultimate goal, the highest satisfaction.

enough worrying of all this bubkiss about marriage and Your plans for it all, I will not concern myself with what You plan to do with anything. because I trust You, and all I want to know is You, and who You are. I want to learn to be just as You are, so walk as You walk. My brain does not need to even begin to try and digest Your purpose for anything on this earth, but I know it will all be revealed to me in time enough, when I see You, I will know. please Lord, sent a breeze through my cluttered head, full of knowledge and cobwebs. it does me no good if I have not Love. if I don’t know You.

..God I love You, and I hope to know You, even more. .. how endless is Your love..

I thirst like a thick sapping bark which withers in the dryness of air, and the dryness of soil.

I have existed in moments. I want to exist forever.

I have tasted and I have thirst for wholesome things. I want to taste all the time.

I am sure there is a way, a way which I am sure I am discovering, which I am sure He is showing me. but how can I succeed. when I cannot even hurdle the few things I see set in front of me.. as if I think I see all of them, believing that if I were to reach the end of what I see that it would all be through.. but it is not this way. more is to come. but yet I manage and gauge the path ahead and the steps I take as if I had the ability to plan out my whole life journey.

I want to run. I want to sprint toward infinite, a finish line coming with no predictability. I will not worry of what is left to learn. I will actually believe He is endless. I will actually believe He will show me more as I come. as I remove each evil from my life, my eyes He will open to better things.

while I hate those which He hates.. yet I have forgotten my first Love..

I will be penetrated, my heart has no shell.

please tell the world that I am not good enough

please tell them all, that I have not prayed enough. don’t tell them I, am honest, at all.

I said all I have to say, when no one was listening.

I want to wear clothes I don’t usually wear.

well I never said. and you never said. and who ever said. and no body said. but. but. that’s my excuse. because I never said. because I never said I would or wouldn’t or could or couldn’t, because I’ve never known. because I’ve never been sure. because I’ve only wondered. because something always lingers a doubt. because I’m not sure I want to believe. because I am a man of fact. because I am a man of thorough thought. because I want to be strongest. because I want to know. because I want to be sure. because I cannot believe in what cannot meet my standards. because my standards are… somehow, more right? more accurate? justifiable?

was it not my goal to have standards set according to what I believe of God? and yet somehow, by the same standards I find I question the things of God.

what deceive has come over me? and will I ever write it out?

the more I do this. the more I write for release as I have my whole life, I now stop and wonder if it’s working. it seems the only way to get anything out, is to bring something else in. otherwise I would be an absent vessel. but, there is a war waging, and there is no chance of ground being uncovered. one side will claim me. one side will, regardless, put their feet on my soil. the most peaceful I can be is to let them both walk over me if they were at war over other lands. but unfortunately they fight for me.

I must choose or be chosen. maybe an intake of the Word. is all that is worth anything.. not sitting here, alone in as close to dark as I could be.

first I’d just, again, like to express how bizarre memory is. the fact that it is at all, that it could ever exist, and we all believe in it. the fact that I am not insane for being about to recall events past. it feels such a strange sort of thought in my head that, if it were any other thought, I would think I could nearly be the only one to ever think it at all. to spend the present on what was already present, but no longer. to recount events at all, outside of purely historical documents which we read and imagine with no affiliation to myself. really is baffles me, that so many could have memory at all. while at the same time, sometime I wonder if certain people use it at all; or indulge in it.  just strange that I could visualize and sometimes create nearly every sense from it, from what IS NOT. granted it was, but it now is not. on those measure I think memory might be the closest thing to faith as I will ever be able to comprehend. faith is like memory, except for the future. being so certain of what is to come, that my senses can feel it even now.

.. how strange, to be so appropriate. I imagine God planned it. no wonder memory is so strange. or maybe, ‘no wonder faith is so strange.’ perhaps He knew, all along. we must be some sort of creature, which operates partly outside of time, and one part which travels across the scale of it.. which, is scripturally accurate though, so, makes sense.

….. woe. now. I reflect on these things…

there is a stirring for which God has given no release. a build up which does not peak.  after it begins it cannot end, with one sin, there stirs an endless ache. with no proper place to break up, the pressure builds. I foresee no end, just a struggle which comes and goes and I cannot defend. after it begins, does it ever end?

is this why we wait. why the good Lord says wisdom is in the ultimate patience.

perhaps it is not for the sanctity of the act, but for the sanity thereafter. I have felt many things more sacred I am sure. I have been more satisfied by other things I am sure. yet still there is a build up, which becomes hard to disperse from my thought. it is not like disease which kills or leaves when untreated.  it is not like drowning which will increase while you are not swimming, and at some point may be too late to recover from at all.

oh it is simple as a bottle building pressure, and I wonder what will happen if it could build up enough.

and on the same thought I say to my Spirit “do not fear, I shall not want, for what can my body do against me? will it burst on it’s own? surely God has thought this through, and there is recovery yet for me.”

I think I’ll wait a little longer.. I think I’ll lay back down for a bit. I think the morning is most beautiful, and the evening most useful, and noontime most eventful.

I’ll think I’ll raise my standards again, I think I’ll test myself, my wit against His; knowing He will win. I think I’ll exercise love, expanding its capacity.

whosoever might gather the strength to stand among those whole crumble, ought to feel the breeze of the spirit at least. whosoever come against me, ought to feel world beneath them before and after doing so- but at least be stuck in absence for the time..

I think.. I’ll think somewhere else

it is hard to know, or watch, or feel, a feeling going away. I wish more people could relate to the absolute feeling of it; of the feeling which I feel going, or, which has already gone some ways, and it now is hard to recreate. it has past through thought, through photos, through faces, through most everything, so that now nearly nothing can recall them exactly at all. I remember only the words of them, the language used to refer to them; but themselves I draw blank.. how cruel a moment to lose, and how cruel to lose so many moments trying to recreate those I see I’m losing.

though in my defense, there is often a moment or two which might have a man say “I would give up a thousands moments to remain in this”.. any number of word choices he may choose, but say the same in end really.

those were, all perhaps the least productive days of my life, days when strangers would comment on how miserable I looked.. yet still I demand I was happy, I recall feeling well at least. Absolutely content in it all. I was glad to be unhappy in it, for in my unhappiness, still I was glad to be in it at all. It was the worlds greatest, most pleasant discomfort of all. to me it, for existing at all, was enough. and as to what “it” was..

I imagine it was partly the relationship, partly the person, partly the mindset, partly the build up, all the years which would weave me to feed into it.. I haven’t an absolute decision of what it was, but I thought it was enough, if not more than enough. and when I thought it might not be enough, I thought it ought to be, and therefore I acted in ways to treat it as if it were. as I regarded it as love, beyond the word we used. but actual.

I might have been right or wrong or whatever at any time or place or moment or breath, but regardless, it was dreadfully human. dreadfully natural born. as if in the end it was to tell me “see here, now do you really just want ‘any willing woman’ at all, my boy?” .. my reply to this day is mere silence.. as I see a wise response from a man who has considered all things accordingly, while I consider them all with dreary eyes which make misshapes of it all, like a vision down a strait road on a hot day.. the way each shape and color floats about as if in thick oil but dissipates quick like smoke in wind.. … how then could I consider them at all, what use then is a ‘sound mind’ in the midst of mistakable information. but I guess in this situation it must in fact be my mind which pours the oil over my eyes.

oh bother.. what all can I consider in fact.. I do not want a woman, I want a perfect woman. and I cannot believe I am fit for either, so which ever one may come, I may equal receive.

but by the same token, ALL, each and every one, of these feelings, I know will pass one time or another. before or after any obvious goal of any have been achieved, I do not know..  it’s the sort of passing which often makes me a douche, or a stiflingly awkward being..  ought there be a way to gauge or control the passing of any? .. I know not.. I, just, don’t know..

“I’m not sure why it always goes down hill” (seems a legitimate thought)

“why broken cisterns never could stay filled”

(oh well.. that’s pretty clear.. dang, well then what are you saying about things going down hill? is there an obvious reason that I am missing, somewhere in the very definition of “goes” or “down” or ..something. I just, man. throws me off)

that’s from jon foreman’s song “cure for the pain” and, I’m not listening to it right now, but I have considered those lines a good few times..

I want a woman to sing songs to, and to believe in me. I want a woman to love, “I know what these arms are for” ..

“I met a man he’s lookin for perfection, said he’s never met a girl whose good enough. his eyes are getting old, like he’d love to love again, such a lonely man oo oo ooOoh, such lonely man..”

well.. dang. all we can do is diagnose.. that’s just. man. so unhelpful.

just because we call it relating, doesn’t give either of us an answer.. gosh dang..

or think at least, that there is nobody who could truly care but me, about me. funny to want love but chase it off. funny to grieve.. to grieve at all, how funny to be weak. to be meek.. funny to be humble, funny to want to be humble, and someday attain it, and at that time, not aloud to be proud of something you’ve worked so hard to attain.. funny His ways are cryptic, conveniently confounding.. confounds the wise..? the wise? .. how? with “wise” as the one and only character trait, where is the door for failure in a wise man? is he not full of wisdom alone? …

who could believe I am worth more.. but only myself. who could convince me of anything anymore.. who in love, could promise me any fortunate thing? such as a woman who enjoys me or a faith in the everlasting.. of those who have attained what I eagerly seek, which of them could tell me a single bit of what is in store for me.. they reach it, I suppose when do paths seeking it intersect?

With no promise of it at all, how am I to be hopeful in my waiting? what ought I wait for to keep me righteous?  Just for cause of righteousness?… it ought to be.. I just, I cannot bare..  where is another woman I can weave into my preset images? where is a relationship I can seam with thin string and needle, seaming of healthy flesh, sewing away on a good thing, all the holes I make to seam what I imagine each of them ought to have.. when will my eyes be open, and when will a woman not mind..

and when, oh what hour is it I wait for.. when I will have no crave at all. none to see a feminine face, none to pick a string, to sing, to play.. none to write a word to all absent ears.. none to engage myself in anything.. none but the feeling of the absence of all..

and if it is Him I ought to seek to be clear of longing for love.. I will go to Him  again and beg to reasoning “is it not You who have begun it in me? Have You not first taught me the beauty of man and woman? Have you not poured great and thick love upon me all of my days? -how then am I to plead You release me from the desire to emulate..”

perhaps it is all an issue of lust, and perhaps with its nearness I will never taste of love outside of all the undeserving spiritual affections.. but in my defense, a compromise, I reason at the time, is an apt attempt to pass the time which I am waiting in for love to drop in.

and if I step first. I will seek a shape, a shape my mind will never let any woman escape, and I will mold and fill in all the blanks to make her desperately close. until a day comes when she breaks from it, and breaks from me. of such denial, I am deserving. .. while even so, I would desire the idea of a woman somehow loving through.

while I think it, and I see its strong meaning if a woman could love me through denial. still I do see them as great fools. as I cannot imagine what might come over me to keep pursuit. that feeling I seldom have, and even then, of “no”. I can only handle one or two. and then I am out, and by that time, they are more than glad.

I just, cannot begin to fathom, the sort of love which would possess a man to spit in the face of an honest answer.. I for one have yet to feel such a pull to tell myself my reasoning could ever know more, or be more developed, than her’s in deciding if I am deserving of a hand or not.

and in this all, the women who make me feel the best, leave so quickly. though, I can’t say they leave on their own. .. I just, still.   I cannot . help. but think there damn well ought to be something more than all this. . beyond it, beyond.. beyond it all. something He has to show me. something I must see. and not, not just another key to another door I was never looking to understand… but then again, love, as He is love, is an eternal mystery unfolding.

but still strange, that those who find this particular treasure, can give no promise or absolute instruction to me on attaining it. there is no map. just pictures of what it is. for me to assimilate..