Lifted

Granular, the straps of the packs of too many burdens
Chafe at shoulders and neck. The
Half-hearted breaths steam out and burn on the wind.
The curling of the autumn chill under the
Downturned chin. This heart has learned
To distrust.

When heaving sighs and crippled beneath a
Mountain of yesterdays -
Breaking, breaking, breaking -
The twine of the straps groaning as
They're pulled apart. Gravity yanks the weights
To the ground - because they belong to the earth.

My heart, my head are lifted;
In praise like birdsong,
I rise from the dirt.
I am Zion singing.

Written by Samantha Lindholm
February 13, 2014

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For no weary busy-ness or burden of expectation can tether my soul to this earth. My heart is heaven-born, and there 'twill fly when the songs remind me of my birthright.

Meekness

It shackles the lofty heart,
Binding with ties that tame the wild thrashing.
It is the cord of silence;
It is hands that fold instead of fist.
The music of it makes us pliable,
Tender when the walls have crumbled down.
It bridles and tempers all that beats within us,
Reconciling the warring factions of the soul.

What can we speak of this, the nature of love?

Its meaning is not to tremble and amble,
Nor to live sorry, nor to whimper.
It is the fiercest fire of love, but
It will not raise its voice in the streets.
Its advent is liberation; its rule is justice,
But the nearer it comes, the lower we bow.
The louder it rings, the more we are the dust.

Written by Samantha Lindholm
January 26, 2014

Beauty Tucked Away

Sweet to my ear,

There are few things so sweet

As beauty tucked away into an unexpected place;

Leaves that curl out of the grey earth,

A fire twisting into the deep and frosty sky,

Tender harmonies upon the human tongue

When shimmering beyond the ear of any audience.

Sweet mystery, testifying of the Author,

Singer of songs beyond the reach of imagination.

Sweet victory, the triumph of all life

That cannot help but testify of Love.

Written by Samantha Lindholm

November 13, 2013

The Sweet & Terrifying

This is the beautiful and wrenching season.

This is the sweet and terrifying season.

He won’t silence the winds.

There I see Him walking on waves that frighten me to my core.

His hand with its bright scar reaches for me most gently, most tenderly.

The slosh of water beneath my feet –

This water should never have been able to carry me.

But here I am, wading, swishing timidly through this soul-storm

Into the sea where I know not the depths below,

Nor can I see the sky above.

All I can see are those eyes –

The eyes of the Kindest One I know.

By Samantha Lindholm

October 27, 2013

These Things

These things are always different than I expect.
They're never like Disney movies -
Which wrap themselves up so cleanly by the end
And which make so much chronological sense.

These things tug and pull and tangle the heartstrings -
And the only way out is Up
For the eyes of Love are well acquainted with this journey.
He has climbed the Great Mountains of the Heart
And led so many others over them time and time again.

These things - yes, even these things -
Will refine my Fearing heart into Grace and Glory.

Written by Samantha Lindholm
October 12, 2013

Reflections on my personal journey - paralleled with the journey described in Hannah Hurnard's "Hinds' Feet on High Places"

It Came that Day

It came that day like a raindrop on her window.

She never anticipated the way it would crawl down, curling and transparent,

And join the other droplets.

She did not foresee the conjuncture of so many streams

That would marry and move in one direction –

Moved by the ever-present wind.

It came that day like the twirling vapors of her breath upon the cold air.

She never anticipated how brief and swirling it would be,

A jubilant dance upward and away –

How this season would melt into another

And the sleep of snow would be washed away.

It came that day like the sweet chiming of a bell tower on the spring breeze,

Telling time through song, shimmering tones

That one could feel riding on the wind like foam on the waves of the sea.

It came that day like a man watching his watch –

He was so ready for the time to arrive that he couldn’t see the movement all around him,

The steady current of faces and feet transecting his path.

It came that day when the Temporal passed away

And Eternity came storming in.

New time and times begin.

Written by Samantha Lindholm

October 5, 2013

Be - loved.

So my head spins in the fury of flight -
A million things to do -
The clock is clicking on the wall of the room
And fingers are tapping on the desk nearby, too.
The colors of life are muted and grey,
Grey like the numbers on the clock,
Pastel like they've been drained from the shock of due dates
And hours passed.

But where my hand rests there on the desk -
Where the veins are grey with weariness -
The warmth of Your hand comes to cover mine.

I cannot carry the million weights,
The loud noises that haunt my days.
I cannot bear the expectation of reasonable and unreasonable men.
But in the dim light, I finally catch a vision of Your eyes -
Your eyes that burn with vigorous flame;
Desire for me that sweeps me off my feet.

The grey sea parts and the sapped colors of my world become electric.
The wilting flower of my heart arises to meet Your sun again -
Because You didn't create me to do things -
You created me to be-long to You; to be-loved.

Written by Samantha Lindholm
September 14, 2013