how the hell did i ever forget
October 31, 2011 § Leave a comment
that im an intercessor? that unless i cry out the burdens of the world around me that i carry, i will not be able to sleep? remember those nights when you stayed up to light a candle and watch the flame speak to you about the pains and injustices of this life? you made a point to never let the Spirit settle down while the mysteries and divine things from before time had yet to be revealed. what makes you think you can go to bed without having uttered the groanings too deep for words in the bones of the homeless and the drug addicts and the hos and the disabled on the streets of the tenderloin tonight? how the hell did you forget?
i literally just recalled the days, not so long ago, when i waged war in the spirit against hopelessness and lies about my yet unsaved friends, out loud, in my studio with no one around to hear my yelling, because this battle not against flesh and blood but against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. its a hard fight, this standing in the gap and being a watchperson, metaphorically. physically it looks like beating the air. calling things that we cant see. hollering and crying unintelligible crazy blasphemous things that hardly make sense to those who only live in the here and now.
but the truth is that intercession is a bridge, between the here and now and the otherworld. its the rabbit hole you go down in order to see what alice sees. its the holy of holies where only the high priest enters in once a year after rituals and rituals of cleansing to meet YHWH face to face. i can only imagine what the altar boys and the oracles may have encountered in the temples filled with glory and smoke. the duality of that calling, to walk fully in the body and to interpret only by the spirit. ive written about this before.
so whats new? not much. i just needed to remind myself again that i was made an intercessor. jeremiahs bones on fire are mine. Jesus praying till his sweat turn into blood is also my story. when He calls you to pour out words that have been sitting in your belly, you better do it. or damn you miserable until those prayers get prayed