The following inspirations are not necessarily in poetry form, but they are words that have flowed from my pen after hearing the voice of the Lord. Because we enter the Kingdom of God through much tribulation, insights we receive from the Lord also comes with a price. But every tribulation, every fire, every trial, every tear should be savored almost to the point of being enjoyed as it brings us closer to decreasing ourselves so that he may be increased. I'm no one special. I didn't go to seminary and I have no titles before or after my name. I just pray that when people read these writings they can tell I've been with Jesus and they will desire to be with him as well! These are for the hurting, abused, neglected, rejected, downtrodden and throw-aways of this generation. May they bring healing and hope and challenge you to embrace the cross and go down for the count!

Darlene Eastes

Purification, Sanctification, and Transformation

My heart is heavy within me. My words are too futile to obey. If I could hide from your chastening, I would. If I could climb the tree of ignorance and nestle among the branches of complacency, my flesh would gladly approve.

But, your fire is hot. It burns white against my will, against my ways, against my flesh. There is so much dross. There is so much of ME still left within this vessel. My complaining rises to your throne. Yet the fire still burns- hotter this time. In this kiln my spirit is crying- sobbing for relief. I am dying. All of my impurities are rising to the surface. My family sees- the world sees- my enemy sees. The dross is dark and heavy. It is like a chain around my heart. You pour it off and the load seems lighter for a season- yet in time another pouring will take place.

I cannot sit along the bank of this river when I know you are asking me to dive in. Yet, I know that if I do, I will be carried away to a land I have not heard of, to a place I have not seen. The water is rushing by me- chipping away at the rough edges of this vessel. I am going down for the third time. My complaining rises to your throne. Yet, the water rises higher. I am dying. The water that rushes around me has become my grave. SELF rises to the surface. The only remedy to resurrect this lifeless frame is your breath of life breathing into the very part of who I am. Somewhere deep within me - where only you can hear- my spirit begins to cry. It is ever so faint- used to the years of the flesh having control- yet, now because the flesh lies lifeless in the glory of your presence- its voice gone- its emotions gone- its ways gone- my spirit can now be heard. It tells you that I welcome this. It grows louder with each cry and now all that is heard is the declaration of freedom.

I feed upon your faithfulness. Every word that proceeds from your mouth is my food. The seasons of life come and go- yet, I find wrapped tightly around me are the walls of this cocoon. It restricts me from movement. It forces me to stay in this place. I have no choice but to rest. "Rest in ME." I hear you say. "Sleep, my beloved. Be still," are the words that pierce my heart. "Cease from striving, cease from controlling, cease from struggling." My complaint rises to your throne. I am being transformed. Though winter storms rage all around me, I am safe in this season. I am safe in this shelter where you are transforming me into your image. I am assured that Spring will come and the cocoon will slightly open. It is no longer my shelter. It is a NEW season. Because I have been transformed, it beckons to hold me captive. It desires to keep me complacent within its walls. Yet, your voice is calling me out. I PRESS against the walls that hold me and emerge upon the other side. Delicately I feel your breath blowing against my wings. You say so lovingly, "You are beautiful, little butterfly."

I long to see the result of my transformation. Yet, your hand holds me steady. I hear you say- "Seek my face." With desperation and passion I lift my wings as your breath of life lifts me higher and higher until I am looking into your eyes. And there in that moment, in the hour of destiny- I see myself- formed into your likeness. This has all been for a reason. This has all come to pass for a reason, the firing of the vessel, the drowning of the flesh, the pressing of the cocoon. It has all been brought upon me for a purpose. So, I WAIT to hear from you. Softly you declare, "Go, little butterfly- REPRODUCE." Delicately you blow against my wings and send me forth-- taking the seed of your word to a hopeless generation. And as the sun glimmers against the beauty of my wings- I AM FREE!!

The fire purifies, the water sanctifies, the cocoon transforms.

FIRE-- Job 23:10But He knows the way that I take [He has concern for it, appreciates, and pays attention to it]. When He has tried me, I shall come forth as refined gold [pure and luminous].

WATER--Ephesians 5:26 that He might sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the word,

Colossians 3:9,10 Do not lie to one another, since you have put off the old man with his deeds, and have put on the new man who is renewed in knowledge according to the image of Him who created him,

COCOON-- 2 Corinthians 3:17,18 Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.

By: Darlene Eastes

GARDEN OF WOUNDS

Deep inside me are planted wounds. There were words spoken that cut deep to the very part of who I am and now as His light is gracefully shone upon these wounds I find myself embarrassingly exposed. Over the years I have meticulously watered these wounds and kept watch over them - my garden of wounds. I have built up a wall around these wounds and fed them. I have exposed them to the light of my glory and this garden of wounds have kept me deceivingly safe. When someone speaks a hurtful word or perhaps an outright lie, when the sting of rejection falls upon me once again, I add them to my garden. Not to say that I am proud of my garden or even that I desire its existence. I despise it. I want nothing more than its destruction. So much work goes into keeping up this garden! And do you know what a garden of festering wounds can do to those around it? So the walls go higher - so high that even those who innocently wander too close to the walls become mistrusted and eventually obliterated.

Then one day I hear you say, “Enough is enough”. Standing as watchman over my garden I see You in the distance and with all the strength I can muster I sound the alarm. I warn the wounds that you are coming and as I see you approaching I notice you are armed with a hoe and cultivator. I have resolved to the fact that I will stop at nothing to guard my wounds. My first line of defense is to dress myself accordingly. In my finest garments I approach you. The swearing words have ceased, the lustful thoughts are suppressed for the moment and my manipulative ways lie dormant. Putting my best foot forward I attempt to distract you from my wounds. I offer you a religious word or two. I speak a “praise the Lord” and raise my hands in a false offering of hope that you have not seen beyond my walls. You patiently wait for me and gently yet with authority you tear down the wall that has guarded my first wound. It repulses me to gaze upon it. Scattered about its core are several weeds that have sprouted around its center. There is a weed of anger, a weed of cursing, a weed of man-pleasing, a weed of fear, a weed of mistrust, a weed of lust, a weed of self-righteousness, a weed of contempt, and a weed of manipulation. I feel like I would rather die than see you look upon those weeds. You know my thoughts and gently you reply: “that is what you must do. Die. Die to anger, die to cursing, die to man-pleasing, die to fear, die to mistrust, die to lust, die to self-righteousness, die to contempt and die to manipulation. My wrinkled brow tells you that I do not understand. I tell you that I don’t know how to die to those sins. I don’t know how to stop taking enjoyment in such things. Taking me by the hand you strip my fine garments. I am unable to speak and I am unable to raise my hands. I have nothing. I have absolutely nothing. Racing through my mind are all those sins I have vowed to keep hidden from you - yet you see them and you even allow me to go through them. Taking the hoe you have in your hand you thrust it into the center of the wound and there before my eyes you unearth the root - SELF.

The Cell

You know, the bible says it rains on the just and the unjust. Sure, you had trials before you got saved, and you went through a lot. The only difference is once you were hopeless with no way out. The darkness enveloped you and there was no sign of light. Then one day, up out of nowhere, the prison guard came and unlocked the door to your cell and handed you your pardon. Shaking, you glance down at the piece of paper, not expecting to see the great drops of blood that have fallen there. Tears of unbelief fill your eyes as you look up and see your Redeemer standing just outside your cell. He is smiling, ready to show you what all you’ve missed. But, you have yet to take his hand. Softly, he speaks “Do not fear. Will you trust me?” You turn to look at the prison walls around you. They are so familiar to you. “Do I really want out?” You say. “I don’t think I will ever be truly free.” But, you know in your heart that if you stay in that prison, that dungeon, you will die. It will be slow and painful, but it is sure to happen. You glance back up at your Redeemer. He is crying. In his right hand he holds a white garment- spotless and as pure as the driven snow. In his left hand he holds a crown, ready and willing to place them upon you. You edge toward the door. As you do, the darkness slowly fades and you begin to see those things in your cell that have held you captive there. There is fear, rejection, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, sexual abuse, abandonment, low self -esteem and depression. There are so many you lose count. The stench becomes more evident the closer you get to the door. You gaze down at your clothes and notice the rags you are wearing barely cover you. Your Redeemer whispers- “Beloved, trust me, do not fear, I am right here.”

Your heart is racing as fear begins to rise up from the mound of chains in your cell. You glance at your Redeemer, but fear begins to talk. “This is what you are, accept it, this is what you will always be. You could fail. Aren’t you afraid of the unknown?” Yet, you look down at the pardon in your hand. Your Redeemer speaks. “While yet you were a sinner, I died for you.”

Rejection begins to rise. “No one will ever accept you. You are of no worth.” Your Redeemer speaks “You are accepted in the beloved. You are so worthy that I died for you.”

Emotional abuse, verbal abuse, and sexual abuse begin to rise. “Look at you, you are dirty, unholy and unfit for God. Your Redeemer speaks. “Though your sins are as scarlet, I have washed you whiter than snow.”

Abandonment begins to rise. “Everyone leaves. Eventually you will be left alone with no one.” Your Redeemer speaks. “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Low self-esteem begins to rise. “You are not pretty enough, thin enough or good enough for anyone to love.” Your Redeemer speaks. “You are fearfully and wonderfully made. I created you in my image.”

Depression begins to rise. “You have no hope. You will never be happy again.” Your Redeemer speaks. “The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

For every chain there is a key, the Redeemer’s words. Anger rises in you because you realize you have been lied to and standing outside your cell is truth - THE TRUTH.

So, you have a choice. Do you stay in the confines of your cell listening to the lies that have imprisoned you? Or do you cross the threshold into life more abundantly; life that is full of joy and peace and a Redeemer who is crazy about you? The choice is yours.

This writing is not about salvation. This writing is about freedom. When you accept Christ as your Savior, you accept the free gift he is offering. You could live a million years here on earth and will never be able to “pay your way” to heaven. It took the spotless, perfect Lamb of God to buy us back. That is what redeem means- to buy back. Yet, how many of us are still in prison? It is not about saying the prayer of salvation and holding our breath until we die and then, and only then, will we experience glory. It was for freedom that Christ set us free. The sins we have committed have been forgiven when we have been washed in his blood. The sins committed AGAINST us are what I am talking about; rejection, abuse and abandonment to name a few. I am beginning to understand this “relationship” thing with Jesus a little more each day. I understand now why Jesus was so adamant against the lies the Pharisees told. You see, the Pharisees were the prison wardens of their day while Jesus was passing out pardons through the words he spoke. Words like “I came that you might have life and life more abundantly. If the son sets you free, you shall be free indeed. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

No wonder the Pharisees sought to kill him. Jesus offered a way to freedom through love while the Pharisees offered their kind of freedom through control and manipulation. I don’t know where you are today in your relationship with Jesus. Maybe you have accepted the pardon and crossed the threshold taking the hand of your Redeemer, leaving those chains behind to rust, never to put them on again. Maybe you have accepted the pardon, yet you still are very aware of the chains that have kept you bound. Maybe you have yet to accept the pardon and you are sitting in your cell bowed low by the chains of bondage. Maybe you are not even aware that there is a Redeemer waiting to pardon you. One thing I do know is that in any case, the Redeemer is still standing outside the door, waiting. He is still standing with a garment of snow white and a crown to place upon his prince or princess. His hand is extended. Will you cross the threshold and be free?