//Just north of where I’m at bombs are fallingAnd drones are killing friendsI am praying with Jesus in the forestAnd drinking wineBut this faithIs no luxuryBecause He sneaks across the border at nightAnd rescues as many as He can.When we drink teaThe next dayHis Arms are bloody.//A man on this landLost his wife last weekCan’t go to the funeralBecause the warHe sits at night smoking next to an open fireLord knowsWhat he is thinkingBut clearly, he can’t sleepThat smoke went skyward all night.//Within walking distanceAre death campsAnd wild berriesA wild boarsAnd old monasteriesAnd a spring fed springWhere it all collectsAnd runs onwardsInto a valley I can’t seeFrom here.//There were women warriors hereIn this forestIt was a while backThey hunted mainly at nightAnd ate all dayThere is a painting of themOn the local pub wallNo one really knows their namesOnly that they were here hunting at nightProbably wild boarsWhose cousins are still here.//During the pandemicThe forest remained as it wasJust less peopleNot less trees and crittersThey were startled by our returnTo their neck of the woods.//In the citiesThe parks became our homeDuring the pandemicEverything spread outAs we rediscovered parks and picnics.//The buildings fellMany wars started and didn’t finishHalf the world got sickWe discovered many new speciesAnd galaxiesAnd hope almostBecame a strangerBut to a few.//My faith grewAs faith doesIf watched wellI could almost walk on water last yearNow onTo moving mountainsAnd getting people clean water.//Jeremiah hid in cavesSo did David for that matterProphets in hiding made sense to the cavesAs a reverse of Plato’s caveThis time the light entered the darkAnd there were no copies of anything-no shadowsOnly light and tears-Everything was real in those caves!//It’s about meeting Him in whatever you are doingGetting to know therefore love HimIt doesn’t matter if the medium is hostingStudying, traveling-whatever. The mediumOf exchange isn’t the thing. The exchange is.Meeting God in all you do is what matters. Even in death.//When I host, I feel and sometimes get to fill the gapBetween what God wanted for that personAnd what they took or were able to receive.The Father lavishes. We grab or simply aren’t sure what He wants to give us.It is the same with me. I block Him with my perfectionism.Even in hosting.The Father lavishes living waterWe build cisterns. But out of His kindnessHe will put the water in our cisterns—even though they leak.