A Shatter and A Roar

Over the years I’ve watched my Papa come through a lot of things. He’s passed through a lot of trials. His father was an abusive man on about every level and his choices towards my papa left Papa very broken and in need of a lot of healing. Papa’s had so many reasons to give up and throw in the towel. There’ve been times when he did. But God has never let go of him and has pulled him through everything. I love my papa deeply. He’s been a best friend and confidant over the years. We’ve had many talks and many growing times. I respect him, not because he’s perfect, but because he keeps trying, and he keeps working to align himself with truth. He’s been an example of repentance to me in so many ways. Our many conversations as well as observing him and his life caused me to realize that if God could take someone as deeply broken as him and take him on a path of healing, he could do that with me too. Papa planted a seed in my heart to believe that God could heal me, no matter how broken I was or came to be.

One of the things that Papa talks about a lot is cleaning up the DNA, which not only helps ourselves but it helps our ancestors as well as our posterity. There are a lot of ways to do this. I’ve seen and experienced many methods due to Papa’s influence. When we do “our work”, as Papa calls it–basically repentance–we help our generational line. When we are able to clear from ourselves and our DNA the things that they have passed down to us, it opens the door to set them free as well, as with our posterity. In this way, “the hearts of the fathers’ are turned to the children, and the hearts of the children are turned to their fathers”. The gospel of repentance is a lot more far reaching than we realize. Doing our own work not only blesses ourselves, but literally thousands, forward and back. In this way we can be “saviors on mount Zion” to our family lines. I wrote the following poem with this concept in mind.

I built a house of glass,

Many generations of inheritance to me.

All different colors,

Pretty ones you’ll see–

Blue and red and pink and green.

Lots of clear ones too.

The problem is

Glass breaks, you know.

Not a sturdy structure

For when the winds blow.

Generations of misunderstanding,

Fears, dysfunction,

And lies past down

Have made quite the fortress to live in.

The glass is pretty

But it haunts me too.

It’s a pretty prison.

Bit by bit

God chips away

At this house of glass.

I scream and jump and run in fear

As I see the glass fly and shatter.

Walls come down.

I see Him through the hole

With a sledge hammer.

Little shards fly everywhere.

I’m not afraid of Him

And what He’s doing, per say.

But the noise and shattered flying glass

Is rather terrifying.

I finally kneel,

Submitting without resistance

To the whirlwind of noise and glass.

It all comes crashing down upon me.

But, strangely, I kneel in perfect peace,

Trusting Him who’s working

To loose me from this inheritance

That my ancestors groan to pass me.

The glass shards are all around me.

Some is in my hair.

I look around to see

All those progenitors

Surrounding the demolition site,

Laughing, hugging, smiling.

I pull a glass shard out of my hair

And I smile too,

A sparkle in my eye.

I jump up and begin to celebrate

Among the shards of glass,

Which doesn’t seem to hurt my feet,

But soon some shards are slivered there.

I call for a broom to sweep up this mess.

Everyone around the site begins to talk at once.

They want to help, but can’t.

Then Jesus comes,

Sweeping up the pieces.

I stay and wait until He gets to me.

He pulls out the slivers and says to me,

“You’re free now.”

He picks me up,

Carrying me to my loved ones.

There’s hugs and kisses

But I keep looking back at Him.

He’s still sweeping.

He meets my eyes and smiles.

The piles of broken glass

Can’t be left lying around

For someone else to use

Or hurt themselves with.

There was discussion

About burning or burying it.

We decided on both.

When that was all said and done

And the dirt piled neatly on top,

I notice a dead piece of plant

Sticking out of the ground.

I pluck it up and burn it on the spot

And in the pile of ash I plant a pecan seed.

It erupts out of the ground–

First a shoot and then a sapling.

Then a great big leafy tree–

So tall I can hardly see the top.

Soon I see nuts on the branches

Ready to be picked.

I pick a nut off the tree.

Jesus and I pick more nuts off the tree

And pass them all around.

I look back at the platform

Where the glass house used to sit

And see a house of wood built there–

The house my son has built

From what his ancestors passed him.

I grab the sledge hammer

And sling it in the side.

A big hole opens

And I peek through

To see my son’s smiling face.

I beckon to him

And he comes to me.

The three of us–

Jesus, my son and I–

Set the house on fire.

The flames burn bright and high,

Slowly simmering down to ash.

As we watch the flames leap and dance,

Suddenly, an amazing sight!

Out of the brilliant flames

Erupts a gigantic Phoenix,

As big as a dragon,

Glistening brilliant red and orange,

Wings and clawed feet extended.

Out of it’s mouth

Erupts a fiery roar.

In this moment

I know

We’re free of all the baggage

That our ancestors groaned to pass us.

The Phoenix leaps and flies up high,

Landing in the lofty branches

Of my pecan tree.

The tree keeps on growing–

Heading to the height of the Redwood.

The Phoenix declares freedom

From his lofty height.

His burning body

Can’t light the tree afire

For “truth embraceth truth”

And they work together

To spread the light of truth.

Across the land,

Valleys away

And across mountain tops

The flame of the Phoenix is seen

And his roar fills the earth

Till every ear hears

And every heart stirs.

One by one

Each child of this generation

Calls down their own “house of glass”

Through the power of Jesus.

As each house is sacrificed

Upon the altar of truth,

Truth is established,

Quickly spreading

O’er all the earth.

Truth is made manifest in many shapes and sizes,

In all her lovely variety.

Everywhere you go

The light of truth is seen,

The voice of truth is heard,

And each heart resounds with the echo

Of the Phoenix’s fiery roar.

~Thoughts From A Mother’s Heart



2 Comments Add yours

  1. Jonathan McCormick says:



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