I’m back (surprise!), and I do have another poem. I promise not to turn this blog into my emo poetry journal (trust me, that is not where this blog is going as if it’s going anywhere because contrary to the rumors, I am not Taylor Swift).
This poem is about when God in his wisdom and goodness and kindness and love and holiness sometimes makes your life take a hard left turn off a cliff and what that can be like. *insert upside down smiley face emoji*
There comes a moment When your hands are Full of mess And you have no more tries Left in your body And you can’t Salvage it Fix it Heal it Mend it Because it’s Too shattered Too corrupted Too poisoned And you are too weak To make it better Because you are not God.
And God? He lets it burn to the ground While you scream at him to Do Something. And he meets your gaze Steady as starlight And says, “I did.”
And in a leap of faith That rips the tendons of your trust Cleanly from your bones You accept his choice: It will not be fixed.
And for a while you lie Like a carcass of grief And you wonder What you could have done And you blame yourself for the mess And you cry And you can’t talk to God Because you can’t help but Accuse the Allwise One As if the Allgood were capable of evil.
But then You must decide What to do next.
And you must consider: Is God defeated?
And your bones reject the truth That he is undefeatable. And you tell your bones: Fall in line. God is unstoppable.
And you must consider: Is God good?
And your bones reject the truth That he is always good. And you tell your bones: Fall in line. God is good.
And you must consider: Am I still going to follow him?
And your bones Whine And weep And wail Because you have nowhere to go But to his everlasting arms.
And he is patient. He waited Something like Four thousand years to send his Son Did he not? Long-suffering can hardly describe One such as him.
He knows humans Are creatures easily broken.
You ask Why You ask Why More times than you can count.
And he should be Silent Because the Universe Upholder Answers to no one. The Wisdom that invented Gravity and light and time Doesn’t have to answer back To dusty souls But As always He is more generous Than a man could ever be And he answers. He says: “You will see in time.”
At last You accept: He never meant to fix it. You accept: He knows what he’s doing. You accept: It is ruined And so are you.
Then he says, Like the first sighting of land Like a deep, deep breath Like a resurrection Like a midnight moonrise Like the first bud of spring Like the striking of flint, “Come, let us make something new.”
Further up and further in, Rosalie
p.s. – but seriously, guys, have you listened to the new Gray Havens album? It is the simplest project they’ve put out lyrically, and it has been such a gift to me. Dave Radford sharing what the last few years of life have been like for him via the songs on this album is part of why I’ve posted these poems here.
p.p.s. – if you’re still reading this post and you are still reading this blog, let me know if there is any type of content you’d like (reading recommendations, gif-ful guides, serious stuffs, something about how to like a guy without marrying him [omg, remember that old rag of a series?? I should reread those and make sure there’s no heresy/insanity I should edit out *sweats*], something about why Megamind is incredible, something about KPOP Demon Hunters and how I judged it by its title but then ended up crying while I watched it *sweats even more*, my RuminationsTM, etc etc). I don’t know if I’ll actually… you know… do it… BUT I could give it the ol’ college try.
I could say it’s been too long since I last posted. That would be true. Let’s cut to the chase.
I’m posting a poem today, and I may post more poems and things in the days to come. No one really knows. These last 365 days have been everything I didn’t expect, and while I will not explain it here at present, for those who are concerned (or may be at the end of this post whoops): never fear, for I am well. Jesus’ grip of grace is strong. This is a lament; it is not meant to be anything else.
Whenever I post on here, I remember myself at fifteen–alone among the corn fields, following after God and encountering so many things I had no concept for, and the books and blogs my Father in heaven gave me to help me along the way. I pray this poem finds my fellow pilgrims at the right time.
Sometimes it seems Like all the endings are sad.
The baby is unrecognizable because it’s been too long since I’ve seen him, The pastor lies and manipulates, They smile at me but hurt the ones I love, The dog is buried along with my childhood, The church falls apart, Too many goodbyes must be said, The brotherhood between Cassius and Darrow and Roque is destroyed and so are real life brotherhoods flayed before my eyes, Harvey becomes Two-Face, Theoden buries Theodred, The Tales of Goldstone Wood go unfinished while lesser stories are penned, The voices of the children no longer fill the meadow, The brother lives too far away, It really was just a dream, The girl calls and tells me her mother has died, All these ghosts They haunt me.
There are days And battles And parties And conversations And dance floors And forts And joys That are irretrievable Dead now Existing only in memories Joyful yet Unmistakably Colored with loss For I cannot return to them And sin has assured That they will never live again.
These ghosts Are like Hunger pains Or swallowing a sea Or suffocating Or endless bleeding.
Must it all Come to grief?
Is anything safe From sadness?
Is any Friendship Memory Hero Joy Safe from the loss That seems So inevitable So inescapable So irreversible.
Will they by my enemies until our resurrection? Does the hero have to die? Why do I have to watch as my sister cries?
Longing and loss These twins. The longing for: The lost things to be found once more The unfinished things to be written The dead things to rise again The return and redemption of it all.
Why must I now regard All warmth as fleeting All safety as illusion All belonging as temporary?
In these times I groan with the earth from which I was taken, My soul crying out within me: Come, Lord Jesus, come. Come make all the sad untrue. Come reign in unmitigated goodness and might.
Help me, oh dear God For I am sick with longing for home. To bid longing goodbye And always be satisfied To tell loss farewell And hold all joy securely.
For until I go To the New Jerusalem All good things must come to an end.
This poem ends sad, but in the words of Dave Radford of The Gray Havens: This is not the end.
Further up and further in, Rosalie
p.s. – seriously, I promise I’m okay. I’m coming out on the other side of these things, and that’s why I’m posting this here at all. Jesus is really as strong and good as he said (I don’t have a specific verse to reference, just the entire Bible), and he gave me a beautiful set of parents and siblings who have pointed me to the Bible and fought with me and for me.
p.p.s. – if you didn’t get that reference about Cassius, Darrow, and Roque, you should read the Red Rising trilogy by Pierce Brown. You’re welcome, and I’m sorry. Also, if you didn’t know (as I didn’t know) that Anne Elisabeth Stengl stopped writing The Tales of Goldstone Wood (arguably some of the most beautiful Christian art of the 21st century) to write spicy romance novels (trash), now you know. I am still not over that. In fact, I’m getting upset right now just thinking about it.
p.p.p.s. – if you want to talk about God’s providence, we have to talk about the release of Benjamin William Hastings’ Sold out, sincerely album coming within days of life as I knew it coming apart.
Tahahaha, I am absolutely not. For those who have been following along, a fake engagement announcement is how I started all two of my 2022 posts, and I couldn’t help but try it again because I’m so hilarious and clever. This is the last time or is it.
Unrelated to fake engagements but related to this blog, I would like to say props to myself for successfully navigating the new WordPress look (I don’t know how new it is, but on my end, guys, everything looks different, and I’m already getting too old to adapt to these sorts of things; I barely know how to use my iPhone [yes, I switched from an Android to an iPhone; it is the source an ongoing identity crisis).
What’s changed, and what’s new?
Not much and everything. We’ll get into that at a later date if I actually keep posting. I’m still following Jesus, still part of the church I’m helping plant in Texas, still getting my socks rocked off by Jesus’ kindness. But I’ve been changed.
I say “omg” and “lol” out loud a lot now, and I’ve got a middle part. And did I mention I’m an iPhone user now? Ahem. All topics for another time.
Okay, enough chit chat. I’m writing a blog post because I want to hype up a band I’ve been listening too recently (besides The Gray Havens).
Gable Price and Friends
Okay, one night back in 2020, I was swimming in the depths of Spotify and got down some sort of Alternative Christian music rabbit hole and came across a song called “Dead Man” by Gable Price and Friends. And then I found “Touch Your Robe” from the same EP. They went onto my 2020 playlist, and I worshipped to them so much through that fatal fateful year.
Now, literal years later, I’ve started to actually listen to more music from Gable Price and Friends, and now here we are. Gable Price is now on my list of people I want to meet in heaven. The lyrics are unique–blunt and up front and also layered in metaphors–the sound is kind of punk rock-y, good driving music, good crying music wait what.
So we’re just going to chat (er, actually no chatting, just a written TedTalk from yours truly) about some of lyrics/songs by Gable Price and Friends.
“You can’t kill your demons if you make ’em your home“ – “Demons“ by Gable Price and Friends.
Talk about a one-liner.
Wow. It instantly makes me think of times when I’ve given myself to sin–of when fear has come on me with all sorts of anxious feelings and I’ve laid down and let it take over, of when self-pity whispers poison to my mind and heart and I just let it set up shop and sow division and fear, of when I not only listened to lies from comparison but viewed the world through a lens of comparison. This line always feels like a splash of cold water.
There’s another line–“You talk a lot, but the game isn’t won from the parking lot.” Bruh.
I think the whole song is about actually getting in the fight against the things that we suffer under–whether sin or depression or anxiety or whatever. It’s about actually fighting, about doing, about living out the truth instead of just saying the truth or just talking about all the things that are hard. At least that’s how I understand this song and why I love it.
How did we end up here? How did we get so far? ‘Cause my key to your door doesn’t seem to be workin’ no more How did we end up here? How did we get so far? I sat at your porch and I cried at your doorstep for hours
It feels colder than the winter I wonder if I slipped from your mind Would you let me in for dinner? I’d kill for just a bit of your time
I find it easy to love you But not so easy to trust you You talk of houses on hills But who’s paying those bills And who’s frontin’ those fees? – “Easy to Love You” by Gable Price and Friends
I love worship music so much, hymns and contemporary music alike, but there’s something about Christians writing songs that aren’t simply for church worship. There’s something about songs like this. When I first heard it, it was like things I’ve felt toward God in times of suffering or doubt put perfectly into words with metaphors that just made so much sense to me.
That feeling of lostness that comes when the things you used to do to be close God are now routine and he feels far away, feels like he won’t let you in (“Cause my key to your door doesn’t seem to be workin’ no more”). Then the creeping fear that you’ve been forgotten and abandoned and the desperation to get back to a place where you hear his voice clearly and he feels close by or the desperation that comes when it feels like he’s overlooking you (“I wonder if I slipped from your mind… I’d kill for just a bit of your time”). And then the skepticism that comes wondering if the Father has the means to come through for all the goodness he promises (“You talk of houses on hills, but who’s paying those bills…“).
After a time following Jesus, a sturdiness, a steadiness should form in maturing Christians, but there are still seasons that will come where the Father’s voice seems far away, seems like the zeal and golden love from the beginning has faded and someone changed the locks. Even though how it feels doesn’t mean that’s how it is, there’s something comforting to me of someone putting those feelings to words and expressing some of the difficulties of following Jesus (easy to love, harder to trust; how quickly the fear of being abandoned by the Father rises; etc.).
They say the truth will bring you to your knees That it might make me a better me
But not before it rips your chest out And not before it puts your back against the wall There’s a painful coalition A cardiac collision involved The truth might set you free But first it’s gonna set fire to your house It takes what you’ve been trusting And breaks it down to nothing at all – “How It Sets You Free” by Gable Price and Friends
This is the one that got me.
I had their latest album on in the background while I did something (maybe my annual cleaning of my room?) and these lyrics just clicked in my head.
I don’t know what it’s been like for other people, but for me, facing the truth–having to repent of sin, having to admit I was wrong, having to admit that the rose-colored glasses I view myself through are not always accurate, being truly humbled before God, all that jazz–is super painful and hard. I can think of so many instances where I felt backed into a corner by the truth, and I could either swallow painful truth and be renewed and change my mind/my thinking or go on in willful disobedience. For me, these are always hinge moments–where something turns, when I must give up a false idea or mindset or view, watershed moments that become landmarks for a before and after.
Recently, this looked like repenting of bitterness towards some of my friends. I’d felt for a while that something was off in my heart toward them. I tended to have a short fuse with them, wanted to believe the worse, wanted to be hypercritical. It isn’t how I normally am with my friends, and I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was exactly, couldn’t quite name it. Finally I prayed about it, something like this:
“Father, this is a little awkward since I’ve been in denial about the way I feel for quite sometime…”
*clears throat*
“Anyweys, I think maybe something is off in my heart towards so-and so.”
*cough cough*
“I don’t know what, can’t name names, but something–maybe, I dunno, the fact I get angry at them when I shouldn’t–makes me think it isn’t good and maybe you could tell me what and, uh, we could do something, ahem, about it. Together. You know, or something.”
After praying about it for a few weeks, it became pretty clear that all these feelings I had towards these friends were the fruit of bitterness, and then I was still in denial. It looked something like this:
*my regular day-to-day life*
Holy Spirit: “Why does it make you angry when people speak well of so-and-so?”
Me: “I doN’t KNoW.”
Holy Spirit: “Isn’t this how bitterness has looked for you in the past?”
Me: “UGH, mAYbE, I DOn’T KnOW.”
Holy Spirit: “Why don’t you want to see them?”
Me: “NO rEaSOn. C’MoN, gimme a BReAk.”
Holy Spirit: “It’s bitterness.”
Me: “That seems a little extreme, don’t you think. I am A Mature ChristianTM, and I don’t get bitter or struggle with sin in my heart.”
Holy Spirit: “You’re going to go for that lie again?”
Me: …. …. …
*repeat the whole thing six or seven times*
Eventually, I came to terms with me sinning against my friends in my bitterness toward them… sort of. I mean, I knew I was bitter, but I wasn’t that bitter, and it wasn’t that big of deal, like, why would the Holy Spirit keep bringing it up. Gosh, like, just leave my alone and chillax, it’s not that bad. Like I’m just a little bitter, but like no one knows and maybe we can just go another year and a half with minimal interaction with these friends, like I can just avoid them on Sunday mornings and it’ll be fine.
Kids, I kid you not, that is where I was at.
But living in the truth means facing the truth, and by some miracle (what could it be? God’s grace again????) I was able to stop minimizing my sin, take responsibility, and repent. But it was a struggle. The truth had to devastate my ridiculous I Do Not Sin Anymore self-image and put my back against the wall so I couldn’t wriggle away from reality any more.
That’s why I love “How It Sets You Free“. The truth, the reality of my own sin, is pretty hard to look at and speak completely truthfully about. It’s easy to want to cut myself some slack when what I need is to have my house of false ideas burned to the ground.
Obviously, there are other ways the truth sets us free, but that’s a topic for another time.
*insert creepiest mwhaha ever*
The perfect polished pastor cannot save you Your Meyers or your Briggs won’t buy your sins You can break the alabaster on a podcast Deconstruct the light till none can be let in Self discovery can only get you so far, baby You’re heaven sent and only home will set you free There’s a middle eastern Man, with holes inside his hands and he’s out to get you – “Ten Percent” by Gable Price and Friends
I’m sorry, but what? I gasped out loud when I heard this bridge for the first time.
“Ten Percent” is about us only giving Jesus 10% of our hearts, and the cost of living only a little bit for Jesus. This bridge is fire. That part where it goes “deconstruct the light till none can be let in” was straight up shots fired. At a time when so many people who grew up in the church are hopping on podcasts and deconstructing their faith and then (a lot of times) rejecting it and/or rejecting ultimate truth, this seems wildly pertinent.
I look back on the day Jesus saved me and the others who were (supposedly) saved too but now have walked away from Jesus and his Church, and it sobers me. It also encourages me because this band is around my age, and some of the lyrics of the songs make me think (but I don’t know for sure) that Gable Price grew up in church and has some similar experience as me. I don’t know. For some reason, this song seems oddly relatable?
Also I love how that casual reference to Jesus at the end of the bridge alludes to him as the one who saves, the one who buys your sins, the one who brings light, the one who sets free, and how he’s bent on having his people.
Wowza, we’re already over 2000 words for this post, sorry, kids. I’ll call it quits before it gets too crazy long. Suffice it to say, I’d recommend giving Gable Price and Friends a listen.
To any faithful Penprints followers or new readers who tuned in for this entire ramshackle post, thanks. Had you heard of Gable Price and Friends? What lyrics are jumping out you from your current music favorites?
Further up and further in,
Rosalie
p.s. – just know it went against every bone in my body to not write a Valentine’s Day post about singleness. Yes, I recently listened to a podcast called “Is singleness superior to marriage?” and yes I also was sad and cried on February 13 because I don’t have no boo thing and then spent all of February 14 living my literal best life and being confused why I was sad about being single the day before. Nothing new there.
p.p.s. – for the uninitiated, “Boo Thing” is a term that refers to one’s significant other; I will use it to refer to significant others. And also, as it turns out, almost every single person other I encounter. It just comes out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I say it to a lot of people. And one of these days I will tell the mailman or some man buying a present for his wife at my work, “Thanks, boo, have a nice day.” And then I will go die.
p.p.p.s. – also, if you’re going to listen to Gable Price and Friends, but sure to give “Underdressed” a listen.
I won’t say where I’ve been or what I’ve been up to except that… I’m engaged!
LOL, nope.
If you fell for that trick a second time, it’s not on me, it’s on you. By now, you should know that if I fall off the face of the earth for a while and come back saying, “I’m engaged!” it’s definitely code for “I am not engaged”. It’s simple language, guys, get with the times.
Anyweys, ahem.
I have a free form poem to share that I wrote this spring. I like it. It was helpful to write. I hope you like it too. I hope it’s helpful to read.
I know: My place is with You And that doesn’t change.
My place is with You. My home is with You.
And You’re not Giving away my place.
You won’t: Displace Misplace Replace Me.
That seat beside You The one at Your table: It’s mine. Always has been Always will be.
So I don’t have to fear: Losing any other place Not my place in another person’s heart Or my place in their life Or my place among Your people Or my place at work Because: My place is Irrevocably With You.
Part of me fears Has always feared But won’t always fear That You’d give my seat away To someone Better Healthier Stronger Steadier More obedient More faithful More beautiful.
But You didn’t give me My seat My place For any good reason in me.
I wasn’t: Beautiful to catch Your eye Or witty to charm Your heart Or lovely in spirit to woo You Or strong to fill some lack in You.
I was: Broken Scarred Some things bent far out of place In the deep places of my soul Crippled Wallowing in my own filth Trapped and dead in sin Unable to even comprehend How revolting I should have been to You, You, oh, Lovely Son of heaven.
But You: Require no more beauty Need no more strength Lack no power That You would look outside Yourself.
But You: Invited me in Chose me Loved me Called me Redeemed me Out of the abundance in Your everlasting heart.
You told me: There’d always be A place for me with You.
You washed my wounds Washed me clean Dressed me in: Your own respectable robes Called me by: Your righteous family name When as yet I was not Am not Respectable or righteous.
And You gave me that seat Right next to You Forever invited to Your table Never to be uninvited Never to be unwelcome Never to lose My place With You.
And so I am And so I will be A cripple Dining at the table Of the Good King My Good King.
And so I am And so I will Fit forever into Your kingdom Fit forever into The place You picked for me The seat The role The calling The life Of just being invited Of just being welcomed Of just being loved By You.
That’s all for today.
Further up and further in,
Rosalie
p.s. – I’m working on some ContentTM to share, so keep a weather eye on your inbox.
p.p.s. – I also rejoined the Instagram world. After Tony Reinke AND Andrew Peterson both released books without my knowledge, I realized I wanted to get back onto social media. I feel sooooo much better about it and am in a better place mentally, emotionally, spiritually, grammatically, and economically than I was before with social media. Don’t ask me what I’m doing there because I don’t know. Like maybe it’s a personal Insta account just for lolz (I know, I need to stop saying “lol” and “lolz” but it’s just so… accurate), but also maybe it’s just an aesthetic account with slow motion video, but also maybe I’ve been toying with infographics and acting like I’m some sort of ProfessionalTM or InfluencerTM (who am I kidding–in my mind I’ve been an influencer since birth). My pictures are black and white and awesome looking, I will say that.
Did I fall off the face of the earth for like a year? Yes, yes, I did that. It was I. I’ll admit it was me who in fact did that.
*coughs awkwardly*
But I yet live, and it’s time to get back to business.
What’s new?
I’m engaged!
Lol, no I’m not. I thought it’d be funny to throw that out there for the lolz, especially for the extended family wait what I would never.
What’s new (for realz)? This will cover the tail end of 2020 and all of 2021. After that I’ll reminisce about 2022 (yes, I said reminisce. About the future. Because I can do anything here, boo.)
My small group multiplied (translation: the group of people that I meet with from my church to discuss the Bible and grow in community got too big to be one group and so we split into two groups).
The 2020 election happened. Yep. I remember thinking the 2016 election cycle was a doozie, and now we all know better.
I left social media, no regrets.
I moved!–still in Texas, still part of the same church, just a new house and new roommates.
The Gray Havens released their new album Gray Flower track by track (thank the Lamb for that).
I saw Jesus save some people very dear to me and got to see them baptized (best. day. of. my life.).
I haven’t been doing much novel-writing in the last year or so…
But I have been doing some songwriting!
I turned 23.
Lost some more idols, survived, know Jesus better, etc.
Survived Snowmaggedon in Texas (maybe I’ll write a post about it because it’s coming up in the one year anniversary and it was wild; it made Covid look like the kiddie apocalypse)
Had several identity crises and have found myself in Jesus a little more each time.
Broke my coffee addiction.
Rekindled my coffee addiction.
Harbored unforgiveness and bitterness, Jesus said, “Don’t do that”, and I repented.
Used to think repentance was beating myself up until I was “sorry enough” but by God’s kindness to me through friends, small group leaders, and the Bible I learned what repentance actually is (a future blog post perhaps?)
Lost some more ambitions and aspirations because God’s call on my life is better than what I could want for myself.
Fought with a close friend, sinned against her a lot. Reader, she forgave me. I’ve never known reconciliation like this. The blood of Jesus is truly miraculous.
Locked my keys in my car. With my phone. At a sketchy gas station. At 10:00 pm. I survived.
My ol’ Volvo (the Daydream) died on the side of the road. 25 of my friends from my church pitched in and bought me a car (like wait, what? They did what?). Reader, this is a really nice car.
Through being gifted the extravagantly beautiful car, I learned a bit more the abundance in God’s heart for me, that he doesn’t give the bare minimum but that his love goes, and has always gone, above and beyond.
Found out that 69 degrees Fahrenheit is absolute warmest I can sleep in or else I will straight up perish.
Came to the end of myself like 14 times and received everything I needed straight from the hand of my Father in heaven.
Learned that the chief end of an avocado is to carry everything bagel seasoning from the can to my mouth.
Discovered part of my purpose in life is wearing velvet pants as often as possible (we’re just at the beginning of this epic new velvet pant age in my life).
2022
Still absent-minded and forget to reply to texts, emails, and phone calls.
Still learning to receive grace.
Still trying not to strive so much (lol, “trying not the strive”).
Still get discouraged and listen to the lies of despair instead of believing the gloriously light truth of Jesus.
Still keep finding out I’m not perfect and still keep acting like it’s the End of the WorldTM (for sure went and cried in my room when I found out I don’t put my dishes away like an adult human should [“Found out?” you say. “Yes, found out,” says I. One of my roommates literally had to sit down with me and tell me that I don’t put my dishes away. I would wash them, fill up the drying rack, go along my merry way, and forget about them. And then one of my roommates would put them away for me. I’m not going to say anything more than that.]).
I did it. I changed the design of this blog again. I changed the header. And the colors. And unraveled all the work I spent in 2018 and 2019 and 2020 trying to have a cohesive “look/brand” that I was going to stick to. I threw it all out the window (if you’re reading this in your inbox, get yourself on over the main website, my faithful friend, and check out the new look; I didn’t buy this domain for no reason [but also don’t look too closely because not all the widgets have been baptized into The New LookTM). There was no one to stop me. At least I didn’t change the name of this blog.
Still planning on following Jesus to my dying day and beyond.
Blogging has become an antiquated form of communication, but that’s all right with my little old soul. I won’t do it much (life is too full–so much to do and so little time; I feel that pressure against my soul keenly), but I’ll do it every now and then (my goal in my bullet journal is 20 posts in 2022; we’ll see if I make it).
To anyone out there still tracking with this old ragPenprints and me, I’m back from the dead in more ways than one and of course have many, many thoughts on all matters with varying degrees of importance, helpfulness, etc..
And you know I’ll share them.
Further up and further in,
Rosalie <3
p.s. – yes, I for sure also changed my closing greeting. It had to be C.S. Lewis-ish. I’ve been signing off wrong for the last ten years of blogging. It’s fine; I fixed it now.
Penprints 