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Thinking this Morning..


2012
09.20

I process better when I write. This is what I am thinking about this morning.

I get asked a lot about the content of my Poetry and the weight of its delivery. I get the same response when I speak or teach. People often ask me how I write or speak like I do. For me it comes completely natural and just seems normal. Its me walking completely and unapologetic in who I am and sharing it with others.

I have been thinking about this for the last couple of days. Thinking about when I have been most affective and flow more freely. I noticed it is when I give what I have obtain through the years. It is when I offer what I have gained through experience, trial or perseverance. It has become a grace purchased through pain and/or trial.

God uses what we have gone through. He uses the mess of it all, the lessons in it to grow us and those around us. I think about David before he was a king he tending sheep. I think about the heart he had to have to fight the lion and the bear to save a sheep. It was in that time of shepherding he was learning what it is to oversee a nation. The same with Joseph it was serving Potipher that he learned to rule a household which prepared him to lead a nation.

It is through these experiences that a grace comes that differs from a talent. A grace that came with experience. It carries a weight. A weight we sometimes call anointed. Anointed as in the Holy Spirit/ Oil on something or someone.

Sometimes in the midst of trial it is hard to see what God is doing. We can become so overwhelmed with what we are going through that we loose sight of the fact that God is still at work. Even in what seem to be a pit or slavery that God can use what we experience to bring us into a fulfilled promise. He can use a prison sentence to position you to save nations.

Sometimes we are so ashamed of what we have done and what we have been that we don’t reach our full potential. I hear it said a lot the thing that we want to hide is the thing that God wants to use. There is a story in the bible that sticks out to me.

Jesus is in the temple and there is a man there who had a withered hand. Jesus told the man to stretch out his hand. The man had a choice in the moment of invitation from Jesus. He could have stretched out his good hand. The hand that looked normal and like everyone else or he could stretch out the hand that had the issue. The wounded withered hand. The one that he struggled with from day to day. The hand that hindered him from doing what others did daily.

The bible says that the man stretched out his withered hand and Jesus healed it. It goes on to say that the Pharisees were angry at Jesus and Jesus used that moment to teach. What if that was all we had to do for God to use us. All we had to do is stretch out the thing we want to cover up. Stretch out the pain we encountered as children, the trials that we endured and allow Jesus to heal it and use it.

I decided a long time ago to stretch out my place of wounds and pain. To show it and allow God to heal it and use. My poetry and talks are just me stretching out the pain and wounds I have endured or experienced. Its not that I am just so talented but that God uses our brokenness. He chooses to use the stretching out of a withered hand to teach and to heal.

We often think we have nothing to offer. I think this of my self often. Then God reminds me of people like Mary, the mother of Jesus. She was not gifted or talented but she was willing to be used. Through her willingness God brought forth Salvation. Gideon a man thought to be a punk hiding out God used his to defeat an army. Rahab a prostitute who hid some guys and ended up in the lineage of Christ. God used people who it seemed had nothing to offer to deliver others.

So I encourage you today. Stretch what you want to hide. Extend to Jesus you withered place, your pain and your brokenness. Allow him to use what you have called useless. Its when you have nothing to offer that God sees the potential to use everything you are.

Wounded Man


2011
10.26

Some of us carry wounds like fire on flesh melting
Blanketed with fear that suffocates you
I cant feel inside
I’m like Ice. Brick. Object.
Void of touch and sense
Wounds like broken glass cutting away at your insides
Sheltered with lies shaming your integrity
I can give it, love
But don’t know it
Wounds like poison killing you slowly
Covered with silence eating you from within
Its like I carry two men in me
One not living, inside only comes alive when I dance
I carry him like weight, dead
Wounds like bleach on coloreds eating away at you
Not reachable but wanting to touch
To be present and here
To laugh or cry to perceive emotion
I’m stone within
Crumbling but not moving
Shaking but not shaken
Wounds like chasms in rock
Covered with leaves that only shade, no protection
Needing to cry to be heard, to love
To know what it is.
Wounded.
Wounds like razors slicing away at your veins
Bandaged with shame, silence and lies
Some of us are Wounded Men

South Africa 2011 Poetry tour


2011
05.25

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Silent too long


2011
05.20

I have had many conversations with guys in the last few week that have blown me away. I wrote this poem a few months ago called “Broken Boy”. It will be in my book “Wounded Healer, Memoirs and Poems of a Broken Boy” which will be released later this year. In the Poem it talks about the abuse of young men. As most know most of my poetry is about me. This poem is pretty raw and revealing.

I have shared the idea of the poem and book with many around me. When I share it with guy who may have a similar background or can identify I am greeted with an overwhelming…yes.  A yes that speaks far more than its good stuff, I think it a yes, that yearns for their stories to be told. Maya Angelou was quoted as saying, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”

I think this agony is carried by so many in our society. We hear so often of girls being molested and the effect that it has on them and we are extremely sympathetic, rightfully so, but when it happens to boys silence. Our news is bombarded with boys having sex with teachers and its never worded molested or taken advantaged of. We in the church are faced with our boys taken advantaged of right in the flock.  It makes me ask this question, are they not your sons?

I think our perception of it is even different. In some cases we assume because he was a man he wanted it.  This fear causes so many young men to stay silent. Afraid they will be deemed gay or a liar. Why is it in our society that we have forced our boys to be men before their time. Is it not a tragedy that they are carrying such a heavy load silently. Have we considered them not worthy of the protection we give to our daughters.

I was taken advantage of for the first time when after my mother died. He was an older man in his late twenties or early 30s. I was no more than 13 or 14. Memories I recall like an old film strip but wounds that I still bare as a man. At first you blame yourself, then you hate yourself and hate him. You carry a pain in you that you dare not speak openly. And what I did not share ate at me. It spilled over into hate for myself and in how I relate in relationships. I am well along in being healed now but for years this untold story kept me captive. I now use my poetry to tell my story and aide in my healing.

I think the breaking of our young men is a wounding that screams throughout society. I have shared in countless places here in America and overseas and I am always met with this reality. In notes and emails, whispers and tears…they say, That is my story. Never able to share, not strong enough to speak it. Gripped by fear, captive by judgment. And so these untold stories eat at them. And so now our boys become wounded men who hate themselves and act out, who even fear love. I think we need to create the space for healing.

We need to create a place where the conversations can be had that lead to growth and security. What that looks like is probably pretty messy. Like men in church not pretending like they have it all together but are broken. Like our husbands breaking down the walls they have built up and sharing the agony in why he is so guarded with his wife.  I have heaps of thoughts on this subject. What do you think? … i will share a bit of the poem with you below…

Cry for us…scream..
We Broken boys molested by those who should have protected
By priest and preachers. neighbors and teachers
Stealing from us every ounce of innocence and no one speaks our silence
Cause we don’t have wombs we carry no emotion, were we not your children
And with every touch they leave us…Broken. Confused. Longing to be touched.
Thinking this just maybe love.
Made to touch places only your wife should
You touching me whispers, don’t that feel good. You are breaking me
You sucking. Me silent. Stunned. Unable to move.
You play with my ass. You just going to stick the head in.
You are breaking me, this hurts me…
And I like shattered glass, window broken
No protection, entry.  Like rain, floods me.
Dark Pain lonely making me despise all that I am..
Write my friend, speak for us..
Did I deserve this…how did I cause it..
Dirt on me I cant wash away, get it off me…
Am I nasty, unwanted…do you see it on me.
Can you tell…Do you know what he did…
Can you see…we Broken Boys have become Wounded men
Who hate ourselves, cause we hide scars silence won’t let heal…

Moses


2011
05.18

5 year old baby boy, Will you play

Dance and sing like the kids around your age

Let me hear you laugh a belly laugh

Run and let’s see how fast…

Forget about the pain you feel, you are not alone

I am here…

Tell me a tall tale of how you and your buddies save the day

And that you will be Superman one day

Use your imagination, dream big dreams…and don’t doubt them

Tell me you’ll stand ten feet tall, and you can fly after all

You can smile now, its okay you are alive today

Moses…Dance and Sing, Live

Moses Live!

Moses…Jump and Play, Live

Moses Live!

I sat and stare at him in the dark

Extend my hand and invite him to come

He makes his way coming to me

I smile excited to meet him

Not knowing I’ll never forget him

I lift him, and my hands tell me what I cannot see

Every bone I can feel, his reality becomes real to me

What’s his story, I ask…

Mother and Father both taken away

His mother buried just a month ago

AIDS robbed him of the ones who gave him life

Holding this baby in my arms

Moses he whispers, I am called, Moses

Then I hold his frail body to my chest

My heart now feeling unrest

And as I hold him in my heart I pray

Moses…Dance and Sing, Live

Moses Live!

Moses…Jump and Play, Live

Moses Live!

Magic Men


2011
05.18

I hear cries of Amen and it kills me
Cause I see his people weak and starving
And from their ears they are bleeding
This people run to and fro, searching
Looking for a man who will scratch their ear, they are itching
So they cry to the man…tell me something that will make me feel good
I don’t need the truth!
Just, well, put together some words that will leave me subdued
Tell me about Heaven and the streets of Gold
Remind me that if I say I believe God will save my soul

They yell come on preacher, hoop and holla
Tell us we are all sinners saved by God’s grace
We are just sinners…give us an excuse

And with one hand he unbuttons his top button of his suit
He takes a deep breath and with passion adheres to their pursuit
And paints a picture of Heaven even God gasps at
Then with even more passion he massages them in a place that arouses
Screams and shouts of pleasure
He gently massages their pockets
Prosperity he prophecies!

People run to sew seeds
Mothers giving their last to the sacrificial offering
“I don’t know how we gon eat this week but I believe the man of God”
Sermons flowing from pulpits Worldwide…
Prosperity, and How the world need to see the church prosper.

And while the world watches to see if the church prospers, the people of the world are dying
While we sew seed, many starve of real hunger, for food
While we are so concerned with our building fund,
They worship in a shack in Africa thanking God for…well whatever they can think of.

Tell us oh preachers, tell us
Allow me to be so consumed with heaven and spirituality
That I can’t see the pain of humanity around me
Let the sermons be said…
It is ok, God will provide houses for me, I can be rich
I can have my inheritance and be okay
While many die from disease, and thirst for clean water

Tell me I am not God and its his will that its this way
Tell me it’s not my responsibility
I cannot change the world
Tell me to pray for these people instead of helping with my hands
Tell me to pick up my wallet and put away my concern
Things that will help myself!
Preach, preacher…tell me
Let me be so overwhelmed with the ministry of our church that I won’t care
that the people in our neighborhoods are dying

Preacher become like a magician and hypnotize me
Make me a zombie, tell me my every move
If you say it I know the bible believes it!
Tell me to not become a missionary cause people here need help
Let those people help themselves
Preacher tell me to put down my cross!

My Reality


2010
12.01

My Reality

Update


2010
02.22

Hello,

Hope all is well, Just wanted to drop a few lines to let you know what was going on with me and ask you to join in prayer. Jesus has been doing great things!

UPDATE::
Website: Site is up and Running! http://www.cirvant.com/ Please Check it out. Michael Jones has helped me a lot with this. I am glad to see it coming together.

CD: This CD is finished! Mastered and just waiting to be printed. The process of writing and recording it has been hard and so freeing. We are praying that Jesus would bring freedom to those who hear it. It carries a lot of weight and I cannot wait to get it out! Using my wounds to bring Jesus to others! Coming very soon!

Africa: I have a brilliant opportunity before me. I have been asked to come back to Cape Town, South Africa and staff a School of Performance Arts.

This is so awesome because I will be able to use all that I have learned in the last 9 years of being a performer. To bring a sense of professionalism and Holy Spirit to the Performance area of Evangelism. I love the Hokey plays of old but think of how great it would be to see people who have honed their gifts to bring fruit to the kingdom! I will also get to work with some orphans and street kids while there, another chance to use my past wounds bring Jesus’ healing to others.

Also with the teaching, YWAM doors will open, because it is a worldwide organization with Bases on every continent. The school I am teaching for is offered on most bases giving me the chance to share with them, global vision! This is a great door that I want to be able to walk through please pray with me.

Exciting: I have a donor who is willing to match donations I get in for the Africa trip! This is exciting for me. I have a few weeks to get things together $4500 to raise, if you would like to be apart of what God is doing in me please donate through my site paypal or email for questions

http://www.cirvant.com/

Hello world!


2010
02.15

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