love is an offering

As time would mention My heart would listen Before the heart break Before the tension Before the period There was just a comma Before the drama Dad and Mama Before the airport Before the plane Before the silence Before the pain Before the moment That set the course Before the contract Before divorce Before the pain I’m thinking of Before the lies There was simply love

What do you give the king who has everything?  Words of honor? Mentions of prestige?  Promises of glory before his throne?   Courageous deeds or royal service?  How about tears?  Tears that sprinkle his feet as he sits before you.  Tears that you wipe away with your hair and your sleeves.  Tears that you press against his toes with your kisses.  Tears that fall so freely because you know...  You know that your invitation into his presence was not based on merit, entitlement or irresistible beauty.  He knows your name because he loves you.  So you cry. And when you have wiped the last tear away, what then?  Do you break out the expensive wine?  Do you usher him to your seat of honor at your dinner table?  Prepare his favorite meal?  Well, you could.  But perhaps you prepare him for his burial.  Grab your jar of perfume and pour it all over his feet.  You let go of all of your self awareness.  Free yourself of your dignity and pride.  Surrender your thoughts and throw your righteousnes

If I dared to put everything I am under personal scrutiny, what would I find?   If I stripped myself of the labels and no longer defined myself or limited my identity to my vocation or my scholarship then who would remain?   Could I love that person? Could that person be loved? Could he be recognized?   Somewhere along the way in my life, I allowed myself to be limited by narrow definitions, like student, teacher, preacher, employee, and soldier.   Knowing all the while that such titles don't begin to define me.   I even felt trapped by my own name.   It was my father’s name.   I spent most of my life undoing and detaching my own identity from that of my father, because of the interpretation of his own life heavily influenced that name in a negative way.   I am not a name, a title or an employee.   Should I be known by my income or my outcome? By my social "friend"ships or by my relationships?   If I dared to put everything I think I am on trial and under oath, wo

the silence is deafening, but the sirens are definitely... razor sharp piercing through the darkness especially these are the sounds that surround him conceptually the violent vibrations of violence suggest that he... join in the chaos if they "try to step to me" but if he continues this cycle then death is his destiny and not just the physical but the spiritual that's desparately wants to survive and connect like telepathy he searches the Scriptures for truth so carefully unsatisfied by the world that's so sexually... driven it's a given they attack men collectively no man's exempt from the temptation that's next to me he says"I must run to the One that's there for me" to the arms of my Father who promised to care for me swallow my pride, I need Him so terribly and I'll dance in these streets despite how they'll stare at me

One evening, a fisherman and his some of his friends decided they were going to go and catch some fish.   So they climbed into their boat and sailed away from the shore and found a place where they were confident to find schools of fish, waiting to be caught.   Casting their net until the water, the experienced fishermen waited for the catch of the night.   It never came.   But fishermen are patient, so they waited longer.   Still no fish. Not even a tug from the net.   Unwilling to be undone or discouraged, they waited all night long.   Much to their dismay, they caught absolutely nothing.   There was nothing to show for their patience, experience and perseverance as seasoned fishermen.   They were a sad illustration of irony: Fishermen without a fish.   No story of the “one that got away”, because they all got away!   Then early the next morning, while sailing back home, they noticed a silhouette of a man standing on the shore.   He appeared to be waiting for them, for s

Today's tower of Babel is the self-glorification of individuals who market themselves to be superstars, kings and gods based on talent that they've borrowed from God. In reality, they are blind thieves that attempt to rob God in broad daylight and have the nerve to call it "swag" or "game". Meanwhile, we the consumer, the customer, the junkie have been duped into believing that we actually know these people. We don't. We write the checks though, we buy their products, we advance the gospel of "ME" and like mindless clones we never question the possibility that they just might be merely human. Fight the power.

<a href="http://edwardblaqrose.bandcamp.com/track/lady-wisdom-2">Lady Wisdom by edward blaqrose</a>

<a href="http://edwardblaqrose.bandcamp.com/track/your-lifes-not-trash-originally-el-0-hsee-by-yu">Your Life's Not Trash (originally &quot;El(0)hsee&quot; by yU) by edward blaqrose</a>

Mission Statement: I am a man. I was created in the image of God. Because He gave His life to me, I in return, will give my life to Him as a living sacrifice. I am Hi workmanship, His tool to be used by Him for His glory. I am called to be conformed to the image of Jesus Christ. I will reject passivity, accept responsibility, lead courageously and expect the greater reward, God’s reward to the glory of God the Father. My Life Scripture: Romans 12:1-2 A Look Back A lot has happened since my last manhood plan. I was 31. Now I’m 43. My family has grown from 3 to 4. I lost my father back in 2005, my grandfather last year (2011) and my aunt earlier this year (2012). I’ve dealt with a lot of lost, but I have seen God move in the hearts of my family. My wife is amazing. She homeschools my three younger kids Felecia (8) Edward III (10) and Bianca (12). My son Brian (16) is entering a new challenging and exciting phase in hi

<a href="http://edwardblaqrose.bandcamp.com/album/take-it-away">Take It Away by edward blaqrose</a>

Dad, take me where boys become men A place unknown to cowards and villains Take me where I can face my fears The place where destines are realized Where hope is faith and faith is bottomless I know men are made there I know you’ve been there before Dad, take me to the great dining hall Take me where you had your meals with Jesus Let me taste the miracle wine Show me the hall of heroes Tell me the stories of Abraham, David and James Brown Show me where your name will be engraved one day I know men are made there I know you’ve been there before

<a href="http://edwardblaqrose.bandcamp.com/track/love-is-an-offering">Love is an Offering by edward blaqrose</a>

My father never found his kingdom on earth. The multimillion dollar inheritance that he often spoke of with such hope and promise would never be realized. That two dollars and fifty cents? I still have it today. When I first discovered in his wallet, among his belongings, I wept. Such a proud and successful man should never die with so little. I now keep it among my prize possessions in honor of what my father did leave me. He left me with something greater than a kingdom on earth. He left me with a desire and a passion to be the father that he couldn’t be with me. He left me with a thirst for love and family. In the end when I think of my father, a number descriptions come to mind: bold, passionate, angry, driven. But I know that he loved me best way he could. In his own way, everything he did was for me. The way he lived his life and even the way he died. His cause of death was congested heart failure. Indeed my father had so much on his heart th

My father spent the last few years of his life on the streets of San Jose, homeless. He separated from his wife. He refused to take medication that would’ve helped him deal with being Bipolar. He refused help and handouts. His driving force for living another day was securing my inheritance and ultimately his legacy. He lost most of his grip on reality at that time, but still very much brilliant and majestic. My aunt and uncles found him once and had him admitted into a home for mental patients. He was out processed shortly after, because the doctors and other caregivers could find no insanity in him whatsoever. He was described as charming and engaging. And so he returned to the streets of San Jose, a prince. I flew out to San Jose when I was notified of his death. I walked the streets where he roamed and ruled, my father the prince. I sensed his charm and majesty as I stood in the place where he drew his last breath. Equally I felt his pain an

If we as adults experience this horrific effect of the force of divorce, how much more do our children ache and groan from an unreachable wound? A wound that will fester and spread an infection, if at some point they never get healing. Even though I was blessed with my period of beforeness, the force of divorce crashed down on my little life, sending the foundation of everything I held as stable and true into a violent whirlwind. And I was one of the “lucky” ones, by the our society’s perspective. I was never physically abused by my father; never had to sleep under the bed at night for fear of what the night would bring. I was swept away in the middle of the night by my mother and a priest who rushed us to the airport. Somehow my dad caught up with us and I remember he had one of my arms and my mom had the other both of them pulling me in opposite directions. How about that for a visual of a broken family? My mother won the tug of war and I boarded an airplane

The force of divorce is a violent wind that rips and tears through families much like a hurricane, destroying homes and cities, leaving its survivors deeply scarred and changed forever. The force of divorce is an unforgiving and unmerciful god of destruction that we created because we are fallen, broken, messed up individuals. If marriage is a reflection of God’s perfect love and intimacy, divorce is a cracked mirror that reflects our depravity and hatred for one another; symbolizing our desire to be separated, dissolved, and disconnected from true love. The force of divorce paralyzes our spirits and undermines our hope to find true intimacy. It spits in the face of family, kicking our children in the stomach. God hates divorce. It has been labeled a necessary evil in a society that mocks the institution of holy matrimony. Even the Bible documents its dark legacy. Some may suggest that divorce is acceptable because it was included in the Mosiac Law (Deut. 24

I don’t think we truly understand what divorce is and why God hates it. For example, if I gave you the Merriam Webster’s definition of divorce, the action or instance of legally dissolving a marriage , more than likely you'll find that definition insufficient. If you are divorced or your parents are divorced, you know that definition lacks depth and substance. It’s like a survivor of a devastating hurricane describing his experience as “I witnessed a tropical cyclone with winds of 156 mph that was accompanied by heavy rain thunder and lightning.” You know that surviving a category 5 hurricane is bit more involved than announcing a weather report. (Ask anyone who survived Hurricane Katrina.) And yet every survivor’s story is unique and personal. I especially believe we don’t get what divorce does to our children. I’m not saying that I completely understand it either. I’ve never been divorced, (not even close), but I do know how it affected me as a kid.