On why I love the Church...

"God loves the Church. God also loves the World. when the Church neglects the World, God is disappointed. when the World rejects the Church, He is not surprised." JKS

i have been writing for years now on how the Church* is neglecting its duties, on how we've become sidetracked, on how we've evolved into a machine as a result of our insecurity and fear of our own humanity. i could go point for point on how we've gone off from His original plan or even more importantly strayed from His heart, but then we all may be forced to reconsider our practice. instead, i'd like to expound on why i love the Church.

the Church is my mother. she nursed me from when i was just a babe and she taught me as best she could. the Church is where i learned of frailty. the Church is where i learned of my deep need for God. the Church is where i discovered pride. the Church taught me the Word of God. the Church taught me the law. the Church told me i needed a Savior. the Church outsourced me to inspirational self-help books, charity organizations, and the Holy Spirit. the Church instilled in me the importance of fellowship and accountability and then ostracized me without a single conversation. even still, i love her deeply.

the Church is my mother. she has her favorites. she's busy in the kitchen, avoiding the "living" room. sometimes she's the hit of the party, all smiles and hips swinging, avoiding the tasks assigned. she has high hopes for me, but is overwhelmed by my need. she lets me leave, relieved that i am no longer her responsibility, somewhat saddened that she was unable to fix me. the Church is torn... wanting to see redemption, but not willing to give up all that she has dreamt and manufactured. she took the path of good intentions and ended up a million miles from home. even still, i love her deeply.

the Church is a bride in waiting. the Church is a fiance in preparation. the Church has fired the wedding planner and burned bridges with the chosen wedding party. the bride has taken on the production of the ceremony and neglected that which makes it sacred. she has lost sight of the Groom. but it can be regained. hope is not lost. the Groom loves deeply. the Groom loves without repentance. and beneath her insecurity lives the bride He envisioned... a bride with a heart soft like His, a generous bride, a strong bride, a diligent bride, a healthy bride... clothed in a beautiful white gown, without spot or wrinkle, without brand name or corporate affiliation.

He is patient. He is good. He is forgiving. He is tender towards His bride. He hasn't given up on the Church and neither should we. i have determined to love her deeply.



*[the term Church is used here in reference to the Western Church. this is in no way directly pointing to any specific local church.]

When i was a Sista...

We joke around and they remark regularly on how I used to be Cuban.
But then I found my groove with the folks that came in a darker shade of brown. Sporting my sour apple blowpop in my ponytail and frontin as much gold that the babysitting job would afford at the 7th Avenue flea market. I remember hitting the street in my favorite pair of kicks…pink snakeskin Diadora’s and the largest pair of imitation Cazals I could find. Rockin my black MCM, singing Mary J. Blige and SWV with the sistas, eating Jamaican patties, hot sausages, and the hugest dill pickles that only the ice-cream man could offer…filled with kool-aid flavored slurpee of course. Its like it was yesterday.

My mom was concerned about the shirtless L.L. Cool J. and the thugged out Big Daddy Kane posters on my wall and my brother Jake felt the need to constantly remind me that I wasn’t “black”. And this was just the public stuff. There was also the powder on the wood floors to aid in my soul train routine practices and the fascination with beads, vaseline, and my black Barbie, DeeDee…the creative hairstylin was birthed during these years. I had a cool posse in those days: Chante (her dad had the hugest mercedes), Tanika, Latoya, Shantrel(she was red-boneded…lucky), Kennika, Kenyatta…you’ve got the picture. I was every sistafriend’s dream friend…light eyes and hair past my waist. I spent so many afternoons on the stoop getting my hair plaited and many nights finishing up my homework early so I could watch Good Times and Arsenio.

This has nothing to do with nothing, but I just felt like reminiscing. Its this song from Faith Evans…its so ole skool! Lovin it!
Back to the present…my laundry awaits.

Currently listening : The First Lady By Faith Evans Release date: 05 April, 2005

Kingdom Casserole

The Kingdom of God is not a casserole.

The Kingdom of God is not a mixture of thought or substance.

The Kingdom of God is not to be recreated, revamped, renovated, remodeled, rewritten or revised.

This Kingdom has a rich flavour, a recognizable foretaste, and a mind blowing after taste.

The Kingdom is not confused.

There is one true God.

There is one Saviour.

There is one hope.

Life is precious. Perfect love is the only weapon in it's arsenal.

The Kingdom is not conflicted, yet it conflicts... with this culture, that culture, and our lower nature.

The Kingdom is not protected by walls, but by devotion and compassion.

This Kingdom is not about possession, but about freedom and truth.

This Kingdom is defined and definite, unbending and unending.

The Kingdom of God is not a casserole.

the girl

I am the girl who wants it all, yet admits to none of it.

I am the girl who gives it all, yet awaits a decent return.

I am the girl that walks the walk and speaks in parables.

I am the girl that sees your heart and grows deeper in love.

I am the girl who's awaiting your words & holding on tight.

I am the girl who's reaching out further & exploring deeper.

I am the girl that questions it all in hope of brilliant answers.

I am the girl that won't give up, without a good fight of course.

I am the girl that you hoped you'd find, but just didn't realize.

I am the girl.

I am that girl.