Category Archives: Movies

I followed a voice
that was not quite His own,
and mistook the echo
for a throne.

I clung to the man
and forgot the call—
that no earthly guide
can carry it all.

But grace broke the chain
I had quietly cast—
and turned me to Christ
at last.

The city was stirred,
the ground gave a cry—
as truth rode in
and passed by.

My faith, too, trembled,
cracked at the seam—
when life proved harsher
than I had dreamed.

But shaken is not
the same as undone—
for what stands the storm
is what faith has begun.

I walked on the ground
I once called my own,
through seasons of harvest
and seeds I had sown.

I feared for its future,
its fading, its fall—
and tried, in my wisdom,
to steady it all.

But land is not held
by the strength of my hand—
it rests in the will
of the One who gives land.

I ran from the noise
and the weight of the day,
from sorrow that would not
be reasoned away.

But flight without purpose
is just another chain—
a quieter prison
disguised as relief from pain.

So I fled to the place
where the broken are kept—
and found I was held,
not merely escaped.

I built up a self
I was eager to show—
with prayers and with habits
to let others know.

But truth whispered softly,
undoing my claim:
“If all points to you,
you have missed out My name.”

So I loosened my grip
on the self I had made—
and found in that loss
that my soul was remade.

I waited for strength,
for clarity, for light—
to do something well,
to do something right.

But grace does not linger
for plans to be spun—
it enters the soul
when the word becomes done.

Not perfect, not polished,
not proven, not won—
just a heart that will whisper:
“Lord, let it be done.”

I searched for a place
that would feel like my own,
in city-lit streets
and fields overgrown.

But land cannot answer
the ache of the soul—
for belonging is found
in a deeper control.

Not where I am standing,
but whom I am of—
I belong not to earth,
but to Heaven above.

I bristled at noise,
at horn and delay—
yet death passed quietly
unnoticed that day.

But He, undisturbed
by insult or breath,
was shaken instead
by the presence of death.

Lord, reorder my heart—
let me see what You see:
to be rightly perturbed
is to be truly free.

If you’d like, I can also create a matching image with “perturbed” in purple to complete your Lent series.

Yes create that image incorporating this photo
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edit this image by showing the image of me contemplating as having white hair and no beard
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Connect this quote explicitly to “Communion”, The Diocese of Amarillo Centennial pillar for March, in the form of a question to myself that includes the word “perturbed”: We need faces and voices to speak for people again. We need to cherish the gift of communication as the deepest truth of humanity, to which all technological innovation should also be oriented.

In this season of Communion, am I allowing myself to be rightly perturbed by the absence of real faces and voices in my relationships, so that I might reclaim communication as a sacred encounter—choosing presence over distance and ensuring that even the tools I use serve genuine human connection rather than replace it?

I bristled at noise,
at horn and delay—
yet death passed quietly
unnoticed that day.

But He, undisturbed
by insult or breath,
was shaken instead
by the presence of death.

Lord, reorder my heart—
let me see what You see:
to be rightly perturbed
is to be truly free.

If you’d like, I can also create a matching image with “perturbed” in purple to complete your Lent series.

Yes create that image incorporating this photo
Image created
Share
edit this image by showing the image of me contemplating as having white hair and no beard
Image created
Share
Connect this quote explicitly to “Communion”, The Diocese of Amarillo Centennial pillar for March, in the form of a question to myself that includes the word “perturbed”: We need faces and voices to speak for people again. We need to cherish the gift of communication as the deepest truth of humanity, to which all technological innovation should also be oriented.

In this season of Communion, am I allowing myself to be rightly perturbed by the absence of real faces and voices in my relationships, so that I might reclaim communication as a sacred encounter—choosing presence over distance and ensuring that even the tools I use serve genuine human connection rather than replace it?

They said they knew
where He was from—
as if truth were tied
to a place on the sun.

But He came from depths
no map could chart—
from the Father’s will
to the human heart.

And I, who boast
of where I’ve begun,
forget each day
where I am from.