To think, this child so small, fragile, and mild died for me! I am speechless at this child’s act of love. Humbled, by his infinite goodness and enraptured by his faithfulness.

Oh God, you are true, honest, and pure. You are my delight. I cannot imagine how Mary must have felt—holding the King of kings in her arms and kissing the Lord of all’s face. You are beautiful. The work of your hands sends chills down my spine. You are the Miracle Maker—the Calmer of all that is raging wild. I pray this Christmas we look to you and praise you God—for you did the unthinkable—sacrificed all so that that we might have abundant life. I sing, shout, and rejoice in your gift of bloodshed love. My heart beats with fervency. I desire to march and blow a pearl white shofar in honor of your name.

Awaken our hearts. Stir vision in our eyes. Palpitate and pump through our veins Lord Jesus. You, the Babe of Bethlehem, are great. You are majestic—clothed in purple and surrounded by violet banners of adoration. May we always sing to you! I pray our voices will never pay homage to another. Oh wise Father, thank you. You are the gift of Christmas!    

Strength Training

Muscle man, strong man, for what are your biceps?

They are nothing but temporary.

Does this power reside in depth?

Do you lift weights to cover your insecure being?

Do you train and sweat without His vision seeing?

Running is futile without a centered mindset.

Called body builder, you must not live in regret.

Lift your iron bars in the presence of God.

Be led by His Word and the guidance of his rod.

I pray that beads of sweat roll down your rippled back,

As you work with effort and meaningful muscle you stack.

For power is powerless and strength is dead,

Without the Lion of Judah’s claws of thick lead.

When working in Christ, we are armored in steel.

When walking in his footsteps fearless confidence we feel.

Warrior working toward strength, climb the mountain knowing,

When living a life sacrificed, your muscles will be showing!

Kimi Willingham

^{1 Corinthians 1:26-31}

^“Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don't see many of "the brightest and the best" among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn't it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these "nobodies" to expose the hollow pretensions of the "somebodies"? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That's why we have the saying, "If you're going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God."

(The Message)

  The black asphalt seemed to bubble beneath her athletic shoes. The smell was strong—of burning rubber. This stench filled her delicate nostrils. It pervaded her body and made her stomach feel like she has just eaten sardine flavored ice cream. Running had always been her life. She had never grown weary, and asphalt baking in the August sun had never affected her body in this way.

                She stopped. Her knees folded. She fell hard. The gravel that had once served as a conduit to carry her as fast as the wind had become her bed of embarrassing despair. Sitting in the summer sun, her knees stung. They burned so bad. She touched her legs. They were shaking now from the impact. Blood. It covered her hands. Her stomach rumbled once more. The sardine ice cream feelings suddenly intensified. She heaved. It didn’t taste good. If she could just stand up she thought she might feel better. With arms pressed on the prickly brown grass, she hoisted herself to a modest squat then tumbled back onto the deceptive surface. Why could she not elevate herself? She had tried with all her might to get up, but she couldn’t. Warm blood was now trickling to her ankles. Her socks were wet from this awful red stream.

                She felt helpless, hopeless, and alone. Why was it that no one was on the track? I was mid-day! She looked in front and behind herself. No one. Nothing. All she could see was the asphalt track still bubbling in the summer, scorching sun. It was hot. As her blood baked, all she could do was wait for someone, anyone, to rescue her.

                We are in need of a redeemer—a rescuer—a lifeguard that can save us when we wade too far into the dark water. However, this lifesaver does not just want to save us then live apart from us. No, he wants to build a relationship with us.

                He wants to hold our hands when we are afraid. He wants to laugh with us when our hearts are overflowing with joy. He wants to share deep, intimate thoughts with us and teach us all his vast wisdom. He is our Scholar, Teacher, Friend, Redeemer, Fortress, Rock, Bread, Living Hope, and Future. Our destiny is painted and carved by the hand of the true Master Carpenter and Experienced Artist—the Lord Almighty.

 Endlessly Deserving

Precious Redeemer your footsteps are like diamonds on glass.

I shutter and shiver at your majesty as you pass.

The sparkles on your robe glisten in wonder.

Sweet Bread Giver your words are like thunder.

I am brought to my knees at a glance from your face.

I am buckled tight—fastened to this holy place.

There is water in your eyes. They encase such concern.

My God, my Abba, for you my spirit burns!

My flame grows brighter as you lean closer to my ears.

Like honey from waterfalls, sweet abandonment appears.

My fears are relinquished. I feel power in your breath.

I cannot dread the grave. I no longer fear death.

For you are life giving—a present wrapped in green—

A Merciful Maker, anything but routine.

You are a forest fire. You stretch in violent waves.

I am captured in your glory. For you, my heart concaves.

It folds in beautiful pressure. Its flesh shrinks at the thought of you.

I feel my chest grow tighter. Jesus, in me, blessings you imbue.

Like ivy climbs a fence, I cling hold of your solid wrist.

I want to be latched in your goodness—hidden in your midst.

Kiss me in your beauty. Rock me safe to sleep.

Clothe me in your purity. Plant passion in me deep!

I focus my gaze. You are all that’s worth observing.

You, my all and all, are endlessly deserving.

By: Kimberly Willingham

 Revelation 5:12:
Saying in a loud voice, Deserving is the Lamb, Who was sacrificed, to receive all the power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and majesty (glory, splendor) and blessing!

Precious in His Sight 

As God’s child, I’m precious.

At least that’s what mommy said.

She tells me I am a treasure and gently strokes my head.

In a calming voice she reads to me before I go to bed.

She says that Jesus loves me and this truth is written in red.

She reads that I am valued and a gem in Jesus’ hand,

She says I will never go unnoticed because he counts the grains of sand.

Like stars in the night sky, He created me to shine.

He wants me to stand tall like a giant Christmas pine.

He smiles in my joy and cries when I hurt inside.

His love is bigger than the ocean.

It stretches long and wide.

Mommy says Jesus walks beside me.

So protection I never doubt.

This feeling of safety makes me excited,

From the rooftops I want to shout.

God is my protector.

He watches over me day and night.

He is clothed in battle armor, and, for me, He’s ready to fight.

Jesus guides me and lives inside me.

He calls me favored and stables my feet.

Yes, as God’s child, I am precious.

Living in Him makes me complete.

By Kimberly Willingham

"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

Proverbs 22:6

Love. It’s such a loaded word. We use it in an assortment of ways. If a child was asked, what do you love? I bet you anything they would respond with statements like, I love ice cream, I love my dog, I love my mom and dad, and I love my teacher.

When thinking of this mushy concept petite valentine hearts, coated in pastel sugar, may pass through our minds or even those tiny grocery store valentine cards—you know, the ones we stuffed in the decorated shoeboxes in elementary school. The night before the big valentine hand-out in the classroom, we would carefully read and analyze each card. The girls got the more sappy love messages such as, “I like you Valentine,” where as the boys, would get something generic like “You are Terrific, Valentine.” We did this just to make sure they didn’t actually think we liked them. However, there was always this one boy that we wanted to give a sappy message to. He was the reason we volunteered to play basketball in gym class, even though we hated being sweaty. He was the reason we wanted to dress up and look nice in the morning before school. He was the reason we hung out with his friends, even though they were gross and annoying, because we just wanted to be near him. Yes, we made sure that he received the gushiest of all the Valentine cards. Maybe one which stated, “I only have eyes for you.” And, I bet you made sure your hand writing was perfect on this Valentine card. You practiced writing your name over and over again to ensure he received the perfect signature—the best you could possibly write.

Though we have been removed from elementary for quite sometime now, it is still true in our love relationships, it doesn’t matter if it’s our husband, boyfriend, or crush; we still have these giddy feelings every time we are around them or think of them. I can remember receiving my first actual “love letter” in junior high from a boy. It was written on wide-ruled notebook paper with my name in black ink. I read that letter over and over again until the edges of the paper were crinkled and the original fold lines could not be distinguished. I cherished the words in that note. In fact, I still have it in a keepsake box in my closet. Why, did I value this note so much? It was because I valued the person who had written it. I desired to know him…so I studied his words. I can remember they were flattering words from a junior high boy. Something along the lines of you are pretty, I enjoy spending time with you, you make me laugh, and I like to talk to you. These words melted my heart. I wanted to draw closer to the person that was feeding me these beautiful compliments. I was treasured in his eyes, deemed as important. This truly felt good.

Did you know God wants to court his daughters? He has written us countless love letters. Yes, it is true. He wants to be that person that we fawn over, that we confide in, that we rejoice with, and the one in whom we find security and the meaning of life. He wants to date us. Not in a literal sense but in a spiritual way. Magazines provide this culture with quizzes such as 10 ways to know if he is in to you and the top five signs to tell if your crush really likes you. Well, God is enthralled by you. We don’t have to guess or take any tests to figure this out. He loves you with an everlasting love. Though we may not see the “signs” he is giving us. He displays these mannerisms constantly. All we must do is devote ourselves to him like we would to our husbands in a physical love relationship. It is so easy to think constantly about our crush and desire to gaze into his eyes or to be in his presence. However, we must hold off on feeling this way for only a crush, which is fleeting. God is the bridegroom, and he has promised to be forever present in our lives.

May we truly live our lives in sheer adoration for the Lord! So that others may look into our eyes and say—she’s in love.

Psalm 45:11: The king is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord.

Step Up and Shine

Step up my daughter and shine.

You are a trophy because you’re mine.

A beautiful mare in the winner’s stable,

Your coat shines like stardust as you eat at my table.

Drink in, my love, drink until you are filled.

Running water abounds when your confusion is stilled.

Lap up my grace. Take it child and place it on your tongue.

Taste my sweet redemption and savor bondage undone.

Dance without chains. You no longer jingle in steel.

I have released your shackles. By my grace you are healed.

Jump in my mercy, child. Twirl in your dress.

You are a princess—a pure lady at rest.

Sleep in my promises. Dream on my precepts.

Reiterate your weakness to gain strength in depths.

I brought you to the hilltop to sing a song unique.

Daughter, I want you to see my face—for my glory, seek!

In the rays of the sun there is a glimmer so true.

I have given you promise—a life made new.

Use the gifts I have given you. Do not waste this talent.

Trust in me, my pretty one. I am your warrior, mighty and gallant.

With hair flowing in my splendor, laugh in pure delight!

I have made you special and precious in my sight.

Look at your hand. Child do you see the ring?

You are my chosen. I love you more than anything.

By Kimberly Willingham

 Jeremiah 31:3:
   The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: 
       I have loved you with an everlasting love;
       I have drawn you with loving-kindness.

Turning Pages…

A page has turned and revealed another chapter in my life—a completely new one! Doors are being opened like never before. What once was a hazy glow has become a brilliant light. It affects me. It stirs passion and emotion inside my chest. The scenery that surrounds me is no longer a whirlwind of shadows. Each tree, leaf, river, and waterfall are distinct places that no longer conjoin into one. My focus has been altered—altered in a new way—a serious yet responsive manner. Joy lines my feet, but not in a giddy, childlike emotion. No, this emotion is encompassing. It never strays. It is a part of me. This is my fate. There is no turning or even looking back. I have made my choice, and I will let the One that ordains my life lead me on…

As each page is turned to reveal more of my life story, I grow excited. Weariness is in the novel. Sadness cannot disappoint me. Grief only makes me stronger. For where there is sorrow, there is an overcoming of it. Vision and action press me forward. I walk in confidence, knowing just who I am. It is an assuring feeling that I am one-of-a-kind. No one can ever possess my personality. The handiwork of the Maker is beautiful. He carves flawless children. Tough the excess clay has to be chipped away and shaped for hours on end; the final result is pure beauty.

A page has turned, I see clearly now. God orchestrate my life. May the strings of my instrument be tuned to present to you a pleasing melody!

Psalm 43:3
O send out Your light and Your truth, let them lead me; let them bring me to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling.

  Nourishment

May my glasses be lined in wisdom!

Not from me but Him.

May the lungs inside my body

Breathe deeply out and in.

May the pen that occupies my hand

Quiver and shake in the thunder.

May the lighting from the throne room

Fill my heart with wonder.

I chase after you dear Lord,

In glasses lined with truth.

Teach me with your hand

And mature me in my youth.

I am a sprout in the ground,

I need your water to nourish my root.

It is growth in you I desire

To be called a sturdy shoot.

May my color be green—

A display to all others.

True health comes from your hands

And never from another’s.

Kimberly Willingham

 

The Passion Ride

 I am standing with my friend, Passion, and stroking his velvet nose,

Scuffing my heels in the dirt, I timidly gaze at my toes.

My heart beats like butterfly wings. My hands grow so cold.

Passion nudges me toward the mountains. They shimmer and shine like gold.

Anticipation rises like the stars in the darkened sky.

When I look at Passion, he has an orange fire in his eyes.

This warm glow makes me nervous. I have never ridden fast.

If I mount Passion will I be able to turn back?

With questions of security, I slowly walk away,

But Passion swiftly follows me and whispers in a neigh.

His desire to run and climb the heights is evident. It's fearlessly strong.

I look into his face; he wants to take me along.

“I am scared Passion,” I plead.

“I have never galloped. What if I don’t succeed?”

He cooly brushes up against me. His heart beat gives me will.

He reminds me—I have a significant destiny to fulfill.

This fire seizes my soul. I want to break loose, race free—

To lap up the wind and sing in the breeze—just Passion and me!

With one big breath, I fill my lungs with a safety net of air.

I jump up on Passion and gently touch his hair.

“Onward Passion,” I call. “Run sweet pony, fast and unbound!”

My life of apathy has shattered, and zealous life with You I've found.

Kimberly Willingham

I Corinthians 12:31

"But eagerly desire the greater gifts..."