Innerdialects

_{Not for the fainted hearted; for Jaci, Wanj, and all of us},

_{for Real}

I cannot speak or think. Its a nightmare. Or is it? I wake and here the tide shoves my mattress, am blanketed with sub-zero Hope. “Take the key.” His whisper is a shout. I weep, He wipes my tears from the inside. “Courage.” He says. “This is the red sea. It waits .”

In the dream I see a Key and it fits in the waves. Zero foothold, shift tide. The sky is part of that ocean. Heaven is serial thunder, lightning rips my strength. But what’s the gold vineleaf? Why this grapescent, mid -wave? “Take the key...”a Voice whispers. “Its a gift, a token of My Grace, of deliverance.”

❇️

Gold vineleaf around that key.

Am transported inside, to another place, a wedding run out of wine. Inside my eyes I see a short story pan out: empty celebration cups, panic in the eyes of Servers. Bridal couple too thought it was a great feast, but now we run out of cheer, now this. Now its almost too late. But surprise. God is in the house, in these very tables we started with. Guess what – He turns tables. Yeshua was invited to this wedding. He ate at this table, He knows you.

🍃

He asks the Servers to fill those empty jars with water. Water from the very ocean of that seeming nightmare. Guess what, those rolling waves were our prayer being answered, Uh.

🌷

Truth is stranger than fictition. I’m trembling, morphing from fear to awe.

This is bigger than new wine flowing in my house, bigger than the “best served last.”

What’s pulled the rug off my feet, is the magnitude of knowing He is here, for me. I’m shocked so wide, so deep, so high, I don’t care if I Iook stupid yelling like Archimedes, jumping off my little pond tub of thought processed into a new This. Allow me to say, the “this” is me staring at that Key called Faith. It is me gawking at the gold vineleaf symbol around it. This is my insides pouring out like new wine, wrapping around the words, “The best is yet to be.”

Dumb, goodwill thinking you say. But it beats the hard reality of earth systems. 2+2 is never only 4. That’s for chalk and slate. Am standing here in the middle of the sea, with the Shekinah. I don’t care about earth securities.

He’s turned on the lights in the back of my iris. He’s said it, He’s done it. Maybe not what I thought, though.

If I can’t see the sun above my head it doesn’t alter the Geography of Light.

And. Guess what. If it is a storm in a teacup, let it sink itself in its wrinkle cream! I’m getting out of here, into the wider unknown, am crossing the Red Sea. I’ve left my pyramids of doubt, my garlic & leek of slavish thinking. I don’t care where this goes, I have the Rod & Staff of the Shepherd in my hand, the Voice of the Master of this Tempest, and its chilling the bones off that pharaoh who drove me here; those chariots of fear, I watch them sink like dead wick in the torrents of His Mercy.

Remember? “Mercy Jesus, help me.” You said?

He heard.

Mercy has been marinating wings in your feet. In the tender bones of your heel. Child of the most high, He’s leading you thru the valley of the shadow, yes the grass is greener on the other side. No need for boats. Jonah’s own whale is a Lilliput next to these Currents of Faith. You’ve been rigged to not go back to old puny routes. The Map has just got wider. Not just nautical miles here, not just sky. You’re tripping acres of Light. Here hell shrinks like dried fig falling to wormwood!

Here we are not with what we knew. This is not for the faint hearted, this is the reason for which we were born into The Christ. You took the key, you turned it in locks rusting in mid sea…yeh, in the depths of ocean floor where satan thought he crucified our Peace.

🍃🌷🍃

The aspect of deliverance is being freed from our wishful teary prayers. The aspect of deliverance is old lucifie in the bushes, burning out; it is him being driven out of Eden now. The aspect of deliverance is what Yeshua did to get back Eden. Eden, is more than leaf, fruit, grass, garden. Eden is running to Him as fresh made humans. Eden is where He takes us now; a Migration into the Sacred. His Word re-wires our Vocabulary. After this, you’re going to pray and the templates of anxiety will shiver. (Elijah prayed and it poured).

Eden is inside where the gold key of the Kingdom Faith turns. It turns the very tips of your fingers, here our prayers change..

❇️

you’re holding on to the real Rod of Jesse, the Cross. Eden is that Garden where He wept blood tears for our bitter. “Not My will, but Yours Abba,”

Eden is the hurt He’s already drunk; trading for us, an Energy we can never access till we get here to this Vineyard called Prayer.

We thought we were finished. But He did that, Syllable on Syllable, on the Cross. Ours is to just commit Spirit to His keep. Ours is just to pour in the very waters of our storm, into those Empty jars,

🌷

ours is the act of Belief, not in any known path, but in His: for His purpose here on earth, as in Heaven. Eden is the Lord’s Prayer, poured out like a Psalm.

Hey. Who knew water could turn to wine? Tall story, you say.

So. Not just that the tide can turn in my favor, or not, who cares?! What of the what, why, wherefore of miracles…, He walks❇️ with me❇️. His Hand guides me.

Shut up satan, this isn’t in your league to even comprehend the height or depth of His Mercy. This is the Even if of Daniel. This is Joseph in the pit, to the palace, to the prison, to the banquet hall where he blessed those who hurt him.

Welcome aboard: this is the League of Champions. Not by might, nor by power but by My Spirit, says the Lord, this mountain will crumble like the dust of dead stars, and every shrapnel of it will ignite Faith, more Faith. Not like pillars of salt, but the pillars of God’s fire reviving my Lazarus by day, my Golgotha by night, a shadow to the dark itself.

So I’m thinking all this was worth the darkish dream. Here I found my _REAL existence. Not earthy No-Man’s-Land, here I’m legally, a Citizen of Grace.

❇️🌷❇️

_{P.S. The best is yet to be* words given to us, by one of kids’teachers in this city. God was training us in the Academy of Eagle Wings}.

In the Vineyard of Prayer, here I attribute essential crushing to designer Essence.