Author: eejoseph

Honey Drop 63 – Salvation: always at hand

eejoseph,

“The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.” Psalm 34:18

The scene

A quiet room.
A leader sits alone after pouring out strength all day —
listening, guiding, absorbing the ache of others.
When the door finally closes,
the weight he carries settles into his own chest.
His heart feels cracked,
his spirit bruised.
And in that stillness,
a Presence he had forgotten to notice
draws close again.

The comfort – the tension

The Tension:
Even the seasoned ones forget.
We forget that God is near when the heart breaks.
We forget that He keeps saving the crushed in spirit.
We forget that rescue is not a rare event
but a divine routine.
We forget —
and then we feel ashamed for forgetting.

The Comfort:
But the verse refuses our shame.
YHWH is near — not becoming near, not approaching,
but is near.
And He saves — not once, not occasionally,
but continually.
The imperfect tense whispers:
He keeps rescuing.
He keeps lifting.
He keeps restoring.
Even when we forget,
He does not.

The Lexical Brief

  • קָרוֹב (qarov) — near, close, present.
    An adjective, not a verb.
    God’s nearness is a state, not an action.
    He doesn’t move toward the broken;
    He is already there.
  • יוֹשִׁיעַ (yōshia‘) — imperfect of יָשַׁע (yasha‘), He saves.
    Ongoing, habitual, repeated action.
    Saving is His routine.
    The crushed in spirit are not rescued once —
    they are rescued again and again.
  • Broken heart + contrite spirit — not two groups,
    but two angles of the same wound.
    The shattered and the crushed
    are the ones God stays closest to.

The drop

I forget His nearness.
I forget His saving routines.
But He does not forget me.
YHWH is already beside the broken,
and He keeps rescuing the crushed.
My weakness does not push Him away —
it draws Him close.

The Poetic Flash: He is near always. He saves continually.

The Hills and Valleys of the Nativity #2

eejoseph

DAY 2 — VALLEY

When the World Pushes You Around: Census, Forced Travel, and No Room

If Day 1 was heaven naming the moment, Day 2 is earth reminding us how hard life can be.

Before angels sing, before shepherds run, before stars guide wise men across deserts —
there is a government decree.

A census. A command from a man in a palace who will never feel the consequences of his own paperwork.
A decision that doesn’t care about timing, pregnancy, or dignity.

And suddenly Mary and Joseph are on the road.

Not a gentle stroll. Not a romantic journey. A forced march.

Miles of dust. Miles of discomfort. Miles of “Why now?” Miles of “Lord, really?”

Mary is carrying the Son of God, and yet she is not spared the grind of human life.
She is swollen, tired, sore, and trying to breathe through contractions while riding an animal that was never designed for obstetrics.

This is the valley of exhaustion — the kind that makes your bones ache.

And when they finally reach Bethlehem, hoping for a soft landing, a warm corner, a little mercy…

There is no room.

Door after door. Shake of the head. “Sorry.” “Full.” “Try somewhere else.”

It’s the kind of rejection that stings more when you’re already stretched thin.
But Mary is not undone. She is not pitiful.
She is steady — a woman carrying a secret the world is not ready for.

So when the contractions come and the night closes in, she does what mothers have always done:
she makes a way where there is no way.

She lays her newborn in a manger —
not because He is small, but because the world is — and the world is His.

The feeding trough doesn’t diminish Him. It reveals how far He is willing to come.
And Mary, exhausted but unbroken, holds the Ancient of Days against her chest.

This is humility, not tragedy. This is strength, not sorrow.
This is God choosing the lowest place — and a mother choosing to trust Him there.

Which part of this valley speaks to you — the pressure you can’t control, the exhaustion of the journey, or the quiet strength of making do with what you have?

Honey Drop 62 – In Our Total Failure God is Our Strength

eejoseph,

“My flesh and my heart fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26

The scene

A pilgrim stands on a ridge at dusk,
hands trembling, breath thin,
the day’s burdens pressing from the outside
and the day’s sorrows rising from the inside.
He tries to steady himself,
but the truth is too honest to hide:
his whole self is tired.
And in that moment of unguarded collapse,
he discovers he is not alone.

The comfort – the tension

The Tension:
We spend our lives dividing ourselves —
outer strength vs inner resolve,
body vs spirit,
flesh vs heart.
We treat them as two separate battlegrounds,
as if one can hold while the other breaks.
But the perfect tense tells the truth:
my whole self — inner and outer — fails.
This is the way it is.

The Comfort:

And yet, the collapse is not the end.
The same verb that names your failure
opens the door for God’s fullness.
He becomes the strength of the very heart that failed,
and the portion that cannot be taken,
even when everything else is gone.

The Lexical Brief

  • כָּלָה (kālah) — perfect tense: fails, has failed, will fail.
    Not hypothetical. Not “may.”
    This is the way it is.
    One verb covering the entire human person —
    inner and outer — as a single, unified collapse.
  • צוּר לְבָבִי (tsur levavi) — the Rock of my heart.
    Not a supplement.
    Not a boost.
    A replacement.
    God becomes what the heart cannot be for itself.
  • חֶלְקִי (chelqi) — my portion, my inheritance, my identity.
    When strength fails, identity does not.
    God Himself becomes the future.

The drop

My whole self — inner and outer — fails.
This is the way it is.
But God steps into the collapse
and becomes the strength of the very heart that broke.
He is my portion when I have nothing left,
my forever when my today runs out.

The Poetic Flash: Your failure is real. His portion is forever.

The Hills and Valleys of the Nativity #1

eejoseph

DAY 1 — A MOUNTAIN

Locating the Birth in Time and Space: When Heaven Names the Moment

If you’ve ever wondered whether God moves in the real world — the world of headlines, deadlines, and political noise — the Nativity answers with a resounding yes.

Luke doesn’t start with “Once upon a time.”
He starts with Caesar Augustus, the emperor who thought he ran the world.
Matthew doesn’t begin with a fairy tale either.
He begins with a genealogy, a long line of flawed, real people whose stories are stamped into the dirt of history.

This is not myth.
This is God stepping into the timeline.

And the moment He chooses is wild.

A census is underway — the kind of bureaucratic headache that clogs roads and fills inns.
A young couple is traveling under pressure.
A star is rising in the East, bright enough to catch the attention of scholars who read the sky like a library.
Prophecies whispered for centuries suddenly start clicking into place like tumblers in a lock.

Isaiah’s virgin.
Micah’s Bethlehem.
David’s line.
A star that moves with purpose.

It’s as if heaven is saying,
“Watch this. Everything is aligning.”

And right in the middle of all that cosmic choreography —
a young woman is carrying a child.

Baby! Joy in the making.
Not theoretical joy.
Not symbolic joy.
Not doctrinal joy.
But the kind of joy that kicks, rolls, stretches, and presses against the walls of a mother’s body.

The incarnation is not just a theological event.
It is a pregnancy.
A heartbeat.
A mother’s breath catching as she feels life move inside her.

And then — the announcement.
Not to kings.
Not to influencers.
Not to the people with microphones or platforms.

To shepherds.

Night-shift workers.
People who smell like sheep and sleep under the stars.
People who don’t get invited to anything important.

And suddenly the sky explodes.

Light. Voices. Glory.
A message so big it shakes the air:

“A Savior has been born. Christ. Lord.”

This is the mountain.
The moment when heaven leans over the edge of eternity and says,
“Right here. Right now. This is the moment everything changes.”

And the shepherds — stunned, blinking, hearts pounding — do the only thing that makes sense.
They run.

Because when God shows up in your field, you don’t stay where you are.
You move.

Who do you resemble today — the shepherd startled by glory or the Magus scanning the sky for signs?

Honey Drop 61 – Just Desserts for the Fainting and the Spent

eejoseph,

“He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.” Isaiah 40:29

The scene

A weary shepherd sits at the edge of the campfire glow.
The flock sleeps, but his heart does not.
He has poured out counsel, comfort, correction, and tears
until his own strength feels thin as smoke.
Across the field, another soul lies collapsed —
not faint, but spent.
And the shepherd realizes:
they are both held by the same God.

The comfort – the tension

The Tension:
Leaders often believe they must stay strong for others.
They hide their faintness,
bury their emptiness,
and pretend that “running out” is a failure of faith.
They fear that if they admit they’re spent,
God might step back instead of step in.

The Comfort:
But the verse refuses that lie.
Jah meets the faint with power and the spent with abundance.
He does not switch gods between stages.
He does not shame the empty.
He multiplies strength where there is none.
The shepherd and the sheep receive the same grace.

Lexical Brief:

  • הַיָּעֵף (hayya‘ef) — the faint, the one running out.
    An adjective used as a noun: a condition becoming a person.
  • אֵין־אוֹנִים (’ein onim) — the no might, the one who has nothing left.
    A noun phrase: not a description, but an identity.

The grammar moves from decline → emptiness, and the verbs match the movement:

  • He gives power to the faint.
  • He increases strength to the empty.

How sweet it is! Grace escalates as weakness deepens.

The drop

From faint to spent,
Jah does not change His posture toward you.
He gives to the one running out and multiplies strength to the one who has none.
Dear leader, Dear lamb,
your emptiness is not a threat to Him — it is the place where His abundance begins.

Poetic Flash: The God who meets the slipping overwhelms the spent.

Nativity 2025

eejoseph

Starting today at 555pm my nativity 2025 Series, a little late but aligning with the eastern Christmas, hits the press. This year my goal is to light up the birth of the Messiah with four (4) hubs and two (2) domains

Hubs

  1. Locating the birth in time and space
  2. Identifying the partners and actors
  3. Certifying the purpose
  4. Gazing at the mystery of the God with us

Domains

Truth-telling can descend into glitter, and shallow pools of what we want and want to hear. The story of Christ’s birth carefully leads us through the highs, lows and the ordinary of the times.

  • The mountains
  • The valleys

Since Christ came as Light we will begin tomorrow with the darkness of the times. Stay tuned! See you at 555pm

Honey Drop 60 – Just be. Breathe and Wait.

eejoseph,

The Verse (the Petal)

“Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the LORD”. Psalm 31:24

The Scene

A small circle of the faithful stands at the edge of a long night.
Behind them, the proud stride forward as if the world belongs to them.
Before them, the path is slow, quiet, and dim.
They are not asked to conquer anything — only to keep standing, to breathe, to feel, to wait.
And in the waiting, something begins to steady inside them.

The comfort – the tension

The Tension:
Waiting is not passive.
It stretches the heart,
exposes the ache,
and makes you wonder if courage has slipped through your fingers.

The Comfort:
But Jah does not ask you to be unbreakable.
He asks you to be human —
to stumble, rise, cry, mend,
to let your heart stay open long enough
for strength to find you.

The Lexical Brief – diving into the words for clarity

  • ἀνδρίζεσθε (andrizesthe) — not macho bravado, but stand up inside yourself.
    Be human. Be present. Be honest.
    Laugh, cry, hurt, heal — but don’t collapse inward.
  • κραταιούσθω (krataiousthō) — let your heart be strengthened.
    Not “make yourself strong,”
    but allow courage to come.
    Let the Keeper pour strength into the places that tremble.

Together they form a rhythm: your stance + God’s strengthening.

The DROP (the Nectar)

While the proud rush ahead,
you wait —
and in the waiting, you become real.
Be yourself in the shadows,
and let courage come to you.
Jah meets the honest heart
long before the dawn arrives.

The Poetic Flash: Strength begins where pretending ends.

Honey Drop 59 – Faith Finds its Footing

eejoseph,

“Who among you fears the LORD and obeys the voice of His servant? Let the one who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.” Isaiah 50:10

The scene

A voice rises in the assembly — not scolding, but searching. “Who among you…?” Not because Jah is unsure, but because Jah wants the one who trembles, the one who listens, the one who trusts in the dark, to know he is seen. A lone figure steps forward in the shadows — not with confidence, but with honesty. And Jah nods, as if to say, “I know you. I knew you were here.”

Lexical Brief

  • יִבְטַח (yivtach) — to trust, to lean your full weight.
  • יִשָּׁעֵן (yisha’en) — to rely, to be supported, to rest on a sure strength.
  • שׁוֹמֵר (shōmēr) — the Keeper, the One whose ongoing action is to guard, attend, preserve.

The Tension & The Comfort

The Tension: You walk without light, uncertain of the next stone, unsure if your fear disqualifies you.

The Comfort: But the question is the comfort — Jah calls out because He already sees you. And the Keeper who knows your name keeps your way.

The HONEY DROP (the Nectar)

Jah asks “Who?” not to expose you, but to name you. The one who fears, obeys, trusts, and leans — Jah knows that guy exists. And the Shōmēr keeps him still.

May the One who asks “Who among you?” remind you that He already knows. May your trust find its footing, your leaning find its strength, and your darkness find a Keeper who never sleeps.

Poetic Flash: Your trembling step is already recognized in heaven.