It’s Golden

It’s in the air, it’s in the atmosphere.

Like snowflakes it falls from the heavens.

So small you barely see it at first.

Your hands rest upon the sand, the dry sand.

But then you feel something.

It pours from your pores when you pause.

The wetness, the moisture, something new rests upon the surface.

It is the dew that is due.

It is in the rough that you feel my smoothness.

It is creamy, smooth at first then mixed with substance. It contains the small things. For you feel the small things.

Your hands dipped in the dust and then drawn across your cheeks.

You feel the texture, the intensity, the covering. For I am making a statement. I’m applying the makeup. I’m not making this up. I’m making you up, I provide the make up. For I know what you are made of, for I am your maker.

Let’s take a look in the mirror what is it you see?

For the lines are drawn across your face. A mighty warrior that stands out in a crowd.

For what I has seen, what ear has heard of a warrior with golden war paint!

For what I have set before you is golden.

It’s in the air, it is in the atmosphere. At first. Then it falls, it has fallen across all the ground.

Did I not say this is a new season. Hope you like it. It is my version of winter. For I love the snowflakes. Each with their own unique pattern. Gently falling all around.

Designed for coverage, designed for joy, it’s my version of confetti.

For I am filling the place of lack. What better choice than gold?

You seem perplexed by it all. You are still stuck on the image of you wearing war paint. As you have never liked to put anything on your face. But you are more comfortable with being a warrior. You are used to this position, this posture.

You are used to fighting for every cent, to possess that which has eluded you.

Yet as you would say “what the heck!”

Who has ever heard of a warrior so wealthy that they use that which is most precious and the rarest of treasures as war paint?

You are puzzled, for your posture, your picture, your image is not one fighting from lack, or seeking to defend from theft.

You know the source of your resource.

You feel the source of your supply. It falls like the dew from my treasure box. Yet I have placed it in your hand.

For you no longer seek to obtain, that which you have already obtained.

In a moment, in an instant, you realise that which you possess.

I love to teach you, isn’t this just the best!

So let’s have another look, what is it that you see?

Looking in the mirror, the gloss of something upon my shoulder, it looks like oil, it is reflective, it glistens in the light. I go to touch it, expecting it to be water from the shower, yet I find no moisture. I look again and yet it still see it. Looking up I see as you see, a focused warrior, with steely intent, with eyes of fire, of dominance.

Yet you are puzzled. You know that you cannot be robbed, if the enemy was to take all that was in your hand, the next morning you would awake with more than you had yesterday. For I have given you abundance.

From this day you shall always have more.

Selah – pause and think calmly about that!

For you have seen the shift, your eyes gaze upon recent events and you see in each meeting I have given you more.

But what puzzles you is what are you now fighting for? If you have everything, and an abundance of supply, then what is your purpose?

For you shall be a well watered garden, a fountain that never runs out, my source of supply in the driest of places.

For we no longer fight to obtain, we possess the place of lack.

Dispossess lack, rob lack, take away lack, erase lack, wipe it out, take it over, decimate it, blow it up!

For the gold dust falls on the dry ground, but then a stream flows carrying it across the land.

Then a sprinkle here, a sprinkle there – hundreds and thousands, hundreds of thousands.