heartthrob

my heart is beating wildly in my chest.
what are you doing, lord?
connecting, he says.
what with? i ask.
the string of things, the spark and ignition, the beginning, the truth, the spirit and the wind, the water there, the power, the assurance, the simplistic, easy, and free. why do you ask? do you not do the same?

This blog has been an exercise in expression. On many occasions it's become a tool to minister outside of myself, so I've been trying to write for others when really I'm just journaling, walking in/working out my thoughts and moves in salvation on paper. See the mixed motive? I can't lay me out while trying to assemble something for everyone else. I can't convince, and I can't persuade. So, now, conceiving that I receive the anointing by choice and by assumption, that is, taking on that spirit, I am free to initiate one mind.

My idea of self as an individual, as an independent, as just a guy, someone just trying to get by, as a funny person, a writer, a leader, a follower, traitor, liar, holy person, sinner or a saint; all of these that I have operated in and under, trying to fulfil and holding onto as labels for an understanding of where I fit: I pronounce them no more. I am in God. This is my identity. I no longer relate to the world, but I see the world as the fruit of the spirit of God. I do not need to perform a thing (either do this or go here) because I am free. I do not need to be anything (what I thought it meant to be a man) because I am free. I do not need to serve God (it is my heart to do this anyway) because I am free. I choose to hear him, I choose to receive Him, I choose to move with him in faith. I receive the anointing unto empowerment. I am not a soul, but a spirit. I've born witness to the reuniting of the soul and spirit - they were out of order, then separated for clarification, now made one again - and have found how easy it is to move. How easy to believe something incalculable, and how it's a matter of course I lose myself to it.

Remember, be

What's my self-perception? My words seem stopped up even when I don't think about them. but it's not me. I am in Him, and walking. What moves in me is fully moved in me, and fully realized at that moment. My understanding of it will grow - this is only first light. May I stop moving if I ever think I've gotten something. I am free, tied to nothing.

"Make the heteros get married." bahaha
I feel like this self of mine is getting more flimsy: that the stuff that comes is all just fine, fine. I get a little harried, but it's not consuming. I guess I expect consumption. I desire consuming fire - but passion, I suppose.


Zakar means 'male' or 'to remember'.
Jehu means 'he is God' or 'it is Jah [who is God]' - (n.) A coachman; a driver; especially, one who drives furiously.
Concerning Ischus and Dunamis, I'd say it's a man who remembers who he is. 

Something's been imparted. I've thought too much and carried too much and considered and believed I knew what it would look like. But I don't.
I don't, okay?
You tell me I'm wonderful, and you provide for me at every step. You show that you're outside of me, and it still feels like a headgame - I might win if I can just catch the rules. So you manifest to me, and we have a very real encounter i sound crazy expressing. I assume I want healing. But it seems like all I want's to be right. Your life is LIFE, and I can talk about it. But for now, I'm content to stress about all the I's in me. Faith toward God; not toward the self. 
A MAN REMEMBERS. It's who he is; it's his makeup. I remember you, lord, when I'm falling. I remember you when I'm catching fire. I remember you, head, when I attempt to make my own way. I SUBMIT TO YOU, HOLY SPIRIT, WHEN I'M WRITING, SPEAKING, AND BREATHING. MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT MY OWN BUT THEY ARE DIRECTED AT YOU. I DEVOUR YOUR WORD FOR IT OPENS MY SENSES - MY SPIRIT UNTO YOU.
I can't do you, I am you. There's the game. I spend all my time trying to figure out how to be this one particular person I can't get all the details to, and I'm him all my life. If I'm you; I'm content. I'm powerful, and able. Secure and easy, unharried. I create in rest and, well, am rested. If I celebrate you I no longer have to celebrate myself - this, whatever you made - this gift of operation. I can just write you. I still need training, but I can participate if I'm you. I'm yours.

I'm expecting something crazy on my behalf, but you're with me, so I guess everything's just outrageous.
Thanks, pop, for being kindly. For smiling on me when I would run. Thanks for bringing me home. This heart is yours. And I'm a man, so I don't swear, but I remember my word and now my yes is yes. I do.