The Creator created in me the gift of perpetual creativity. His works are complete but ever expanding, ever growing, exponentially evolving into magnificent beauty and glory.

It was one word, like one seed, from which the Creator creates creatively. Smaller than a needles tip, but denser than a thousand galaxies, a small start, but purposed to last through all eternity. So potentially nothing can stop me from growing, save the One I’ve submitted my will to, but He encourages me and bids me to succeed, His works are complete and He’s begun a work in me, that only He can complete it if with His spirit I’m will to cooperate.

Time leaves me, and I’m ok with that, what hold on me does time truly have? The alarm clock is set, but what’s one less hour that I desire to get to rest my head? What’s one day when things don’t seem to go your way? Why not extend it into tomorrow? By day three you’ll have forgotten this momentary sting of misery. Even a good day when all you can do is but laugh, this too shall pass. Hours go quick and days do not last; moments are gone in an instant, over in a flash. Minutes drag on, seasons seem to never end, a day seems like a year, but only one day in the end. If I have joy throughout it all, time has no hold on me. If every moment I will to live, I will have brought all of me to every occasion no matter what climate I’m in. Sometimes I wonder where time goes, but if in Love I’m choosing to live from: my time’s redeemed not wasted. I’m in time, but time’s not in me, not mechanically. My inheritance in eternity, a measurement of time ticking infinitely. Learn to walk in Love today, and tomorrow it will make it easier to do the same. Life lives and never dies, draw yourself closer to the life that’s been planted inside. Stare into the mirror with an unveiled face to the Creator Who’s allowed you to see by His grace. Rise up and shine, for in time we grow, each day we reap from the seeds that we sow. All could be granted now, but nothing would be earned, nothing I could call my own. By His grace He allows us to sit and rest, by His grace he causes us to run, seemingly never seeing the end of it, but tools we gain, receiving revelations won’t allow us to stay the same. My God’s doing a work in me and I’m going to show Him I was created perfectly.

Earth devours seed; what came from the earth is returned to that from which it came. Unless a seed dies, it cannot bear plant, fruit, and more seeds. The world consumed Jesus, for He became sin, He bore our iniquities, carried our sin upon Himself. The world consumed a perfect and pure seed from which plant, fruit, and more seeds are to come and indeed cannot be stopped. As trees cannot seize to exist unless all are chopped down, roots pulled, and all the seeds collected.

How can the Creator of all things, who Himself is Life, whom existed before life and is eternal life without beginning or end seize Himself to exist in the world which He created after Jesus the Christ indeed has been planted and has risen and eternally bears fruit in those whom have received Him into the very soil of their heart. From that soil of the heart who believes in Jesus bears much fruit which contains seeds which some are planted again in their own heart from which the fruit came, and other seed gets planted in the hearts of others, thus spreading exponentially for all of eternity.

It’s a pretty face, like a flower in a pretty vase, a cup of cool water that brings peace on a hot day. The rains came down to release a song anew; the rains came down to sing a song to you. A closed hand leaves no room for a handshake, and closed eyes will sleep the day away. A bottle that’s full of syrup has no more room for water. A building without doors leaves no entrance or exit.

Who told a rose to not look like a lily, but to be its own thing and dance in the uniqueness of its beauty? Who could talk it out of being what it’s created to be? When do you listen to hear your named called? Does clay create itself, or without a potter, remain as nothing at all? From dirt to form and form to dirt, nothing into something, and something back to nothing, the life of a flower, the life of the earth. Eternal life, life without end, forms form and fade, but life never ends.

Lime green was the color He brought to me, a letter of hope, and letter of peace. Eloquent writing bordering a level of purity that unopened eyes wouldn’t be able to read. His hands of labor of love have seen their share, calloused palms create the look of that of a carpenter’s, with lines and creases telling a story, each one their own, yet a soft youthful tenderness was apparent in every pore. His gaze was intently fixed on the top of my head, had I looked up to where my eyes would have been, but I stared at the sheet, and wept in His hands, an overwhelming love coursed through me, unable to move, unable to even breathe, I knew the fire in His eyes was what was holding me.