savory sweet


van gogh

Stream winds so pure and clear
lovely path throughout the year

Where from does this rivulet meander?
And how does it avoid harsh arid slander?

I beg to know this stream of life
Endless source to ease my strife

 As a tear you shall always go
Upon the mountain’s cheek so slow

You are not of this world lovely stream
Not from yarn, legend, or even a dream

You are a divine droplet making its way
Winding downward without fear nor sway

Water replenishes me in graceful rebirth
With purposeful joy o’er saddened earth

For continuous and ready are your reserves
Gathering salt of which the soil preserves

This salt shalt ne’er have flavor lost
Just as endless stream flows from redeemed one’s cost

Preserve and replenish, these two shalt meet
The endless stream, savory sweet

(c) 2016-2017 rickjstassi

The Binding Fire

“And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.” Colossians 3:14 (KJV)

The fifth season is the return of summer from where I began a year ago. In life. I was born in the summer when leaves were full, green, unfurled to a beautiful suppleness. The sweetness of the spring blossom had all but faded. The dawn of my awakening has progressed to midday. I have arrived and the  sun is high and hot.

My life is seasons lined up. The next awaiting, the former to serve purpose. And purpose is served. I needn’t yearn for a god, when I now am safe and secure in God.

The seasons I walked through to be here! Across stinging hoarfrost walking to the welcoming Christ – warm glow in the snowy window. That season hurt. The walk in frail nakedness, unprotected, is perilous without hope in sight. I nearly lost all things but saw a glow from far away. I was encouraged and tired enough to bear the sting on my bare feet.

All that we have is all that we have to lose. It is our ‘self’ –  sordid and haggard after being beat down enough by a merciless world. The enemy’s stronghold. He tells us the stinging and bare vulnerability will pass. He has something that will cause sorrow sway. If I would have listened, I surely would be lost eternally. But, I saw a faint glow that roused curiosity. It was far off across the snow and even in my state of nothingness I knew it was right to trudge toward the light. I rapped at the door and I was met with welcoming smile. We talked by a fire so warm, He and I. Vulnerability failed transcending to security. His guardian eyes were of instant protection and warmth. I asked if there was anything beyond the coldness of where I had been. The endless attempts of filling, filling: the endless thirst of a dying soul. He gave assurance with a condition. “Be still and know I am Your God”. I trusted Him. From the warmth of the fire, the sheltering haven, I was empty no longer. I stepped onto the snow again, dragging a tree. A burden with assured purpose. The snow ended and the earth dried. A perfect place to plant this tree and there I shed my final bit of resistance. It screamed at me screeching and writhing as I nailed it to this tree. “No! I am you” he cried. Not really. I had a sense of peace. Ego was dead with no remorse. The narcissus bloomed within all the places I looked as a sure sign of a new season coming. Ironic narcissus….


The blossom atop a stem, piercing upward from a bulb quickly spent was fragrant and there was snow no more. I felt the breeze of life surround me. No looking back – pine not for what once tried to kill you. Forge ahead to fields of green grass and waters of deep, cool water.

The sun shone high and warmed throughout. It is odd as my heart was still vulnerable, only this vulnerability was certain about its purpose. Open your heart to others. An open heart, protected by God, invites others to hope. This heart: It sees other hearts crying and I cry too. It is compassion. It is agape love I am reassured by He whose eyes still smiled. Whose heart engulfed me. O mercy. How I hear the crying. I seek each day, with sun high in the summer sky, the crying heart. Even with an exposed heart I fear no evil shall try to steal joy or stem the outpouring love. The Source of this love is God Himself.

Tears pour down my cheek as I love. I see one crying in their wilderness. It is funny how I can stand in a valley and there is a shadow of death all around – a winter of hoarfrost. Many naked feet stinging. Crying hearts seeking. There is a gap between the crying and the Father. I stand there and I take the hand of a lost soul and kneel and pray with them. The Father is kind and He again invites a new one to His fire behind the window. This window is the plane infinite in all directions. One side is stinging frost and ever-yearning hopelessness. The other is a the warm fire and the quiet communal sanctuary with He who first died. Seasons don’t always blend slowly into the next. They sometimes change as simple as rapping on a door, looking through a window, infinite in four directions. There is flesh on one side and God  on the other of this infinite window. The door is narrow and we must squeeze through, but when we do, we are transformed to all love. And as much as we do for the Kingdom of God, it is his love that holds all souls together. Charity is Agape love. With open hearts we seek with keen ears the crying of those in the barren and cold and draw them to the warmth of the binding fire.

© 2013 Rick Stassi

..and the bleating heart beckons

3 But the angel of the Lord said to Elijah the Tishbite, Arise, go up to meet the messengers of the king of Samaria, and say unto them, Is it not because there is not a God in Israel, that ye go to enquire of Baalzebub the god of Ekron?
4 Now therefore thus saith the Lord, Thou shalt not come down from that bed on which thou art gone up, but shalt surely die. And Elijah departed.
2 Kings 1:3,4 (KJV)

There is no one like our God. Trust He is with us. Amen.

There are moments when a heart is still, a mind racing slows, the desires of our soul are content. I cherish these moments and I wonder about these moments. I petition the Lord to know and see His perfecting process in my life. The ground at my feet is still and unchanging but the horizon is full of hope.

…and I shall not be anxious. I shall not seek something afar that may stir my wonderment in these quiet times. God is clear that in times when all is quiet it is not a time for me to seek in a direction away from Him. In these quiet times, the music is silent, the brook flows its course in a peaceful way. The birds fly high above and I hear no sound. But, I shall not look away for I know God is still here.

..and I shall not be impatient. I shall wait on the Lord. No self-stirring here! I am just that person who would and I know. Through previous talks with God, He has told me and has shown me who I am. He makes me aware. I am better at seeing to the core of my soul because God has led me there on many occasions. He has asked me why I seek the bush that rustles in the breeze, the inner voice of my self surfacing. He asks me: “Am I not here with you,? Why do you seek elsewhere?” I now listen. For the season of my self-reason is over. I will not run to any beckon unless it is of God. It is quiet and yet even now, His voice grows: decibel by decibel.

…and I shall ever-trust in the Lord. Yes I shall trust that He is watching over me. Too many times I sought elsewhere only to be placed in discontent. I have traveled that path. I am here now in this moment to speak finally as one who is growing stronger in the Lord! I hope so for I love God. There is no other like Him. My self is diminished as my humility waxes. I could be asked if I think poorly of myself as one sees me talk of my diminishing self. I am confident in my answer. The world views our self as our self-esteem which without, says the world, renders a lifeless soul. In God the opposite is true. As my self wanes and my humility waxes, the Lord becomes more prevalent as  I focus more and more on His eyes that are my guardian. His protective hand over me is my trust and I shall not want.

…and I shall not want. I am content in this quiet time. He has design it this way. A soft heart and a keen ear. I hear the bleating of a lost lamb and I will search for it. This is that time when He asks me to use His instilled spirit in my heart to love another. He has taught me to walk, then to walk straight, and now to walk with His instruction. I can live in these quiet times because love is silent sometimes. But, love is still there. God is still here with me. He is with you.

..and the bleating heart beckons. There is someone who calls – lost in darkness. A keen ear perfecting under the strict and gentle tutelage of the Spirit  hears and seeks. Let me help those who seek refuge. For in these quiet times, in His silent love, I can do His work in confidence. So I listen. I pray for you, bleating heart. Do you see His light? I will grab your hand as you flail in darkness. But it is God’s hand you eventually take. I just want to give you hope through witness that there is a place of solace outside of your darkness.

Do not worry during these quiet times. It is time to think of someone else. Help a lost lamb, a bleating heart. God has perfected us for this moment. Worry not lost lamb, I hear you as the Lord watches. I pray for you now. I pray for your tears to dry and your heart to swell with hope. Love is silent yet God is here…I know, I was once a bleating heart. I still am, sufficiently enough, to know He watches His flock always.

I praise God for His Son. Jesus is the Love who may seem silent but never is silent. He is omniscient in nature. Feel the warmth of His gentle love little lamb. Then you see God and your bleating stops.

Rick Stassi

June 22, 2012