otherness.

that's what we're all about.  we're not trying to be like anyone or anything else.  just Jesus.  and it makes us look like aliens, foreigners in a distant land.  we stick out, and humbly so.  why?  because the way we love is so unusual.  our words bring tears of laughter and tears of solice.  our music and dance are fueled by a different drummer, and a better one at that.  and the fruit?  it's a different song.  a difference value system.  not pushing the edge of sin and hell.  not ok with status quo.  a place where beneficial versus permissiable is clearly understood, and no one even wants the boundary line.  we would much rather lunge out to the kingdom's cutting edge, which is heaven's arms.  sitting on His lap is fine with me.  His heart beat rythmicly puts me at rest.  not apathetic slumber that leads to poverty, but deep love that thrusts us to ninevah.  for Macedonians are still calling, and Ethiopians are still asking for someone to help them understood.  and how do we know this?  because we look into a different pair of eyes.  not just the window to His soul.  but a magnifying glass of theirs.  look again.  His tears aren't clear.  they don't taste like salt.  they're colorful banners of the nations, and they taste like the blood that was shed for them.  a tear trickles down and I see Sri Lanka.  another hangs in the corner of His eye.  deep inside that tear I see a Sudanese lady worshipping over the family that just abanonded her.  here comes three more.  Canada.  France.  Mexico.  and as He wipes His eyes, I see the colors of Morocco, Russia, Scotland, and China on the palms of His hand.  where do those tears go?  they're stored in a bottle.  not just a bottle.  but the bottle.  the one that has held the cries of the saints of Germany, the one that has held the deep secrets of Thailand's orphans, American's addicts, and Indonesia's widows.  the groans from North Korea's underground church and South Korea's prayer mountain.  all in a bottle, and they're waiting for you,  waiting for me,  to open our hands so he can pour them out.  and why would He trust us with these treasures, these precious children of His?  because He calls us family.  He can trust us.  because we've seen the otherness of God and we long for more.  for if You, God were the same as the rest, You wouldn't be holy.  and my unholiness craves Your holiness.  Your cleansing.  You.  and in the process we become other ourselves. and the importance of that?  so many stories are being told, fighting for my affections, my passions, my heart.  but I refuse to be caught up in the midst of small stories that seem brilliant in the moment but soon become faded glory.  I desire to be taken up in to Your story, in to Your great plot for me and mankind.  so I leap in to the chariot of fire and I ask for humility and courage to leave it all behind, no matter the cost.  because Lord, You deserve it and they need it.  because I love you and they need you. and the Spirit and the Bride are still cyring out "Come Lord Jesus!"  and You will.  You always do.