His bride, the church

a few things that came together in my mind recently:
1. Christ is called the second adam (1 cor. 15:47)
2.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the church as the the body and bride of Christ. after being involved in a bible study that was going through book of John, a few things came together in my mind.

Jesus' first miracle is turning to water into wine at the wedding feast - showing that he brings joy and celebration. but it also shows that he blesses this wedding.
Jesus came to reconcile his people (the church) with himself. his bride had been unfaithful and he came to win her back. and the first thing he does is bless a wedding. fast forward to his crucifiction.
when he dies his side is pierced and water and blood flow out.
it is important to note that during the times of sacrifice in Israel there were trenches dug around the alters to capture the blood of the sacrifices and direct it out of the temple. from a distance, looking onto the temple, it would appear that blood was running out of the side of the temple and mixing with the water of a nearby river. water. blood.

John also proclaims that Jesus came and dwelt amongst us - literally translated he set up his tent, or tabernacle amongst us. he was the indwelling of God, taking on our flesh to give it up for us.

so at this moment of sacrifice, when attonement happens, water and blood flow from the side of Christ (the temple) reconciling us to God.
another side note: Christ is called the second adam. Adam's bride was pulled from his side and eve was created. when adam awoke he said "bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh"
the church's rebirth came from the water and blood that flowed out of the second adam's side.

And Christ looks at us - bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh

and loves us.

when i thought of communion, i always thought of the last supper at which Christ invites his diciples to share in the wine and bread - a rememberance of the sacrifice he was going to make.
but he is, instead, inviting us to share in himself: in his sufferings, his death, his ressurection.

simply because it needs to bed said

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

thoughts from a disjointed being

God is moving in the way a stream flows. He is always moving, flowing, carrying and endless (the analogy falls apart here, because God is actually endless whereas a stream just seems endless from most given vantages. also, God is limitless where a stream has defined limits. forgive the holes my finite mind creates.)

i see God moving in other people, yet sometimes fail to see Him moving in me.
i sit on the banks of God and watch Him flow by. carrying others. changing others. all the while moving and flowing in a specific and meaningful direction.

i choose to sit on the banks. on occasion, i will get up and walk along the banks: carrying my heavy load - even convinced that i am doing good!

while God is in front of me. waiting to carry me. waiting to move me.

Smoke rings

Amic was beautiful in the way a smoke ring was.
Fleeting perfection achieved through too much time and dedication to a deadly habit.

She wanted to quit.

chess

Bryan lived like he played chess.
He had a general conception of how the pieces moved, but lacked any real strategy to his movements and also lacked the knowledge and foresight to predict the moves of others.

He wanted to get better at chess.

I swear i am willing to be refined.

i know i have yet to prove it. i should stop comparing myself to iron ore; as if i were strong. or any form of plant; as if by my very existence i would grow.

am i being refined? if not it is because i have buried myself far too deep.

the truth is that there is a fire burning hot enough. the opportunity persists, despite my resistance.

i want to end. end my unending thoughts. i want to stop thinking of what i am most like and start seeing what i am.
i am a wretched, mistake-making fool who gets distracted at every turn by everything meant to be left alone. i lack any sort of focus or discipline (or motivation for any real change) i am too good at lying about things and am believed by everyone at times. i am simply a regurgitation of the world around me: taking everything in and spitting it back out in some sickly distorted, yet appropriately placed way. yet somehow, beyond my delusions of grandiose failure, i am loved. i feel greedy saying that. i am loved (unconditionally, at that)
despite my irrationality and quirks beyond repair, i am loved

i have been loved

i will be loved

i am loved

i am loved

i am loved...

what i want, i can't have.

this is devastating.