Perched in a tree of everything I thought I knew. I chose to let go. I heard rumors of flight. That these wings and feathers were made for more than looks. Yet so many are content to live below the canopy. That freedom is only an idea, a concept, not a way of life. Choosing comfort over purpose. I was one of them once, but I had to find out the truth for myself.
Ironically, this little bird began underground. At first, flying into the mouth of the cave felt like a drawn out, fading smile. As the light behind slowly vanished, I couldn’t see where I was going. What if there’s a turn up ahead or I fly straight into a pillar of rock? Sometimes I would just close my eyes and pretend I was somewhere else. But that just made my heart beat louder, a rhythmic reality check that there was no escape.
Oxygen became scarce the further in I went. It’s times like those when your greatest treasure is your next breath. Temperatures in a steady down swing. When it’s dark and cold, time is an elusive joker. All I heard was my breathing through the echo of my earlier cries of, “Is anyone there?”
The tunnel narrowed. The rock walls were like a throat swallowing me until the tips of my wings brushed against the stone. The cold silence mimicking the rock, it too surrounded me. I could barely make out my breath whisping about as I moved through the chilled air.
Still on I flew. Still on I fly. All I know is to never stop.
“I’m letting go, but I’ve never felt better.
Passing by all the monsters in my head.” // Of Monsters and Men
This journey of flight does not lead from mountaintop to mountaintop. On the contrary, my travels have taken me below the valley. Under the mountain is where you can find me. Flying through the depths of myself. Trying to put together this puzzle inside of a wind tunnel. Pieces flying around hitting me in the face as I reach out a feathered hand, but grab only air. Most times, it is only my frustration that pushes me forward. And somehow it gets even colder.
Ice caves welcome me in with a frosty gust, lifting my wings like puppet strings. Transparent, curved walls of indigo give me vertigo and I have to land to get my bearings straight. The icy surface, smooth as glass, creates a reflection of my shaken bones. Gives a face to the one just behind my eyes. A two-way mirror with a voice like mine.
“What did you think the good fight of faith would be like? An ideal stroll through only the pleasant parts of life? This is war! With every battle, a piece of you that wasn’t meant to be dies. So stop trying to hold on to them. Let them go or you will share the same grave.”
The glass shatters. Tiny shards of ice hit my face. Some of them stick and leave a burning impression as they melt. One that mustn’t be forgotten.
I’m miles below the surface now, passing through ice and flame. The ground is a black, starless night. I fly over crevices and fractures in the cave’s floor. Soft rumbles from the shifting structure reverberates in my head. Tremors run up the walls and across the ceiling. An ancient fire deeper than eyes can see, pulses in the expanse below. No one knows it’s magnitude. Profound insight rises like smoke through the cracks and I breathe in as much as is given to me. But it only amplifies my restlessness. I haven’t reached that part on my eternal timeline. Besides, eruptions can be difficult to predict.
Still, everything is in motion now and I can’t stay in the same place. Each flap of these wings brings healing to the perceived emptiness. The only way to see what’s really inside those caverns is to light them up. Darkness gathers up the lies he spread across the floor. The ones disguising the traps I continuously fall into. But I made it through, so away with you! I’m igniting a torch in every cave, lighting the way back home. The flames speak to me in how they dance. So I light another. They say, “Listen, brother. The way back home is not behind you.” If I can make it through these caves, I can survive anything.
Isaiah 49:2
“He made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me a polished arrow; in his quiver he hid me away.”
The canary is dead, that’s who I was.
The sadness in my head, what it’s become.
So I’ll stand on my hands until it all comes tumbling out.
Feeling forever faded, I thought my eyes were adjusting to the darkness.
But I was actually becoming the light.
You taught me to fly.
I thought that meant to take to the skies.
But I would never reach the greatest heights, if I flew straight up.
So into cave I went and when I exit, I’ll be something else.
Something with a bigger wingspan.
I’ll fly higher and farther like I’m destined to.
Like no one has ever seen before.
firebeardblog 
Hey! This falls right in line with Pastor Rob’ s message this morning. Elisha didn’t settle for a portion of God’s anointing. Instead he pressed on and was determined to receive a double portion. Even though he asked for a difficult thing, he got it because he persevered.
The words that God gives you to express your art are eloquent. Our prayer is that you receive a double portion of the annointing that he has prescribed for you and launches you to be a change maker.
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