Innerdialects

_{Pray September!}

It is another September. She’s notorious, again! In an earth – tinier than a peppercorn in space, we are citizens of 2 Kingdoms, both tangible, invisible almost. We belong to heaven or hell.

The air is heady with News. Hurt news. Humanity is not one whole ensemble anymore.

Some kneel at gods of worry, hate, war. We may ache for release of some sort, even in obscure blazes! Yet, the Love of God equally invites us to our Priceless inheritance...

Prayer.

"Pray every prayer
Cry every tear
 'fore its too late to weep,
see its a war

Go like a baby,
go run and hide 
at the Cross,
Its all we got.."

 @ Vineyard Shiloh 
I'm arrested
attested by His Stripes
that heal.

🍃 🌎🍃

🌷

At Shiloh, (this Place like a Vineyard of Prayer),
I’m startled by The Gospel of John. Have you walked bare foot in the forest floor, not expecting cherry-red lady bugs, and blue silk winged beetles? Have you scented lychee and mango, among notes of pineapple? You were scared of what you couldn’t see, (surely there were bats and who knows what?!)

But Dad knew the forest. He said, “Hold my hand.” You did that, and became part of his hand as you both walked past trailing banian tree root, wild plum, queen bee, cashew apple crush in your sandals…

you were part of your Father’s hand, long as you held on. You matched breath and step with his. When you couldnt, he carried you, and you were closer to the light falling like the fingers of God, between tendril, leaf and call of crow pheasant hoonking in the velvet dusk.

The John chapters broke me into the tangible pulse of His Word. Images seeped in me, as Vine (the Christ Himself), His Body & Blood in mine. (Read ‘ – Ours’- Humanity). Equally. No bars. Just for that walk with Him, in that narrow Path via snake trails and haunts of jackal. (if you’re wondering, yes I’ve lived in some remote areas, off Dad’s Postings).

And I’ve never been to a Vineyard or can even fathom it, except in metaphors here, in these Chapters of John’s.

“Vineyard” is used as an allegory in the Bible, a Symbol of The Father’s Garden of human Souls. I imagine there’d be conversations here, even unspoken words. There’d be new shoots, branch (me/us) , flower, fruit (our works?), oh pruning, weathering, seasons, the fragrance of blossom, the heartache of loss, the sizzle of drought, the fox that wrecks fence, ravages the grape, oh that proverbial fox of the ‘sour’ grape – so much happening in these yards, these acres, where the Parent Head tends the Soul of that Vineyard, barters Its life, with sweat, tears and Blood.

I think of Praying as the vein, grape bark and blossom, of a Vineyard. Here the grafting of wild branch (me) into the Vine, the vital union that flows sap in branch: Christ;

and yes the bearing of fruit, the vinepress crush, the flavour, and seasoning of wine,
in vats of Faith. “Vats of Faith”. I’m going to be thinking on that. Vat – a vessel, that holds on till the Banquet, or till it meets The Table.

These are days mapped with alternative paths to “peace”. We brew every other kind of deliverance. We are fore runners of Halloween, and Santaclaus, among others. Who will we meet in those last 30 seconds before we pass from here to Beyond?

Can I pray hard enough to find soul- rest, a little Heaven, here on earth? Is there a sacrifice enough, a ritual, a temple tall enough to find me citizenship in heaven? “What must I do?” The man asked Jesus.

“Believe and you will see the glory of God.” Jesus said.

This September & forever I’m embracing Faith. Me: a jar, no longer empty but filled to the overflow, like at the Miracle @ Cana.

Never mind how it looks (not said glibly), His Power works best in our most fragile moments. Its an Invite to our Legacy, our Inheritance :

these moments with The One Who heals, even our Spirit. Especially our spirit.

🍃

https://innerdialects.com/2025/09/15/the-gardeners-touch-finding-redemption/

Handpicked for a Time as this

Vineyard Shiloh